Fallen (yaoi)

2- The Sargent

The soldier looks strong, various medals gleam on the lapel of his black jacket. He's undeniably handsome, strong jaw line and fierce eyes. But he seems dangerous, as if he could click his fingers and kill us right here and now.

He looks at me, then dad. I want to turn and look at him as well, but I'm too scared to move.

"What's going on in here?" My dad says nothing, I hear him shift his weight slightly.

The soldier smiles, taking a step further into the room. He looks at me half dressed, and the mixture of pristine and dirty clothes around me.

"It looks to me like this is the young master, dressing as the garden boy so he could escape..." I feel sick. It was the other way round, the garden boy dressing as the young master so he could get caught instead. This was their plan, dad and the mistress and probably the master aswell. If the soldiers came looking for Kip then I'd just be handed over in their place. Anger and hurt replaces the fear.

The soldier walks over to me, his shoes are silver tipped as well. I stare into the man's face, too angry to be scared of his blue eyes, so pale that they look white. He places the cold silver of his cane under my chin and tilts my face. He laughs.

"No, this is the garden boy, pretending to be the young master! I'm right, aren't I?" At that moment, two more soldiers burst into the room.

"Sir, we found the family." They found them. Everything was over. Shit. I have to do something. I flinch backwards, catching the pale eyed soldier off guard, jump up to my feet and turn to run towards dad. I'm quick but the soldier is faster. He lashes out with the cane, striking my legs so hard that I crash to the floor. The pain is incredible, sharp daggers spreading from the place where the can had made contact. Dad runs forward and the two other soldiers grab him, bending his arm so he falls as well. They laugh.

"Take them all outside, bind them. The only one that should remain unharmed is the boy, if anyone else resists just make sure they know who's in charge here. But no deaths... Yet." He laughs again.

"Bastard!" Dad spits, "Don't you touch them. Don't you lay a finger on them!" The soldier that has his arm pulls it harder until their's a horrible wet snapping and dad cries out.

"DAD!" The cane lashes out again, this time hitting me across my cheek bone. The soldier grabs a clump of my hair, pulling so hard that he yanks me to my feet,

"Do you understand what this is?" He holds the cane so that the silver tip hovers just before my forhead. I hold my breath, staring up at it's shining surface. "This is silver. What does silver do?"

".." he pulls my hair harder and I gasp, my heart beating against my rib cage, "I-I don't know."

"Call me 'Sir', say ' I don't know, Sir.'"

"I don't know, Sir" He chuckles, prompting the other two to do the same. Dad groans from the floor.

"Silver is the best conductor of electricity. In the handle of my cane their is a tiny little generator and look here," He points a leather clad finger to shining threads inlaid in the wood grain, "that is silver. It runs from the handle right down to... here." He taps the end of the cane against my forhead, I yelp. A harsh fizzling pain, like a weaker version of the feeling in my legs, rushes over the skin on my head. I try to pull back, away from this sadists' weapon but he's so much stronger than I am.

"Sir, why aren't we going outside? Do we need these two aswell?"

"Money. I need money." He drops the cane from my face before holding me firmly against his body, one of his medals digging into the back of my head. "Look at this boy. Now, how much do you reckon I'd get for him?" Money? How much would he get for me? What the hell is this maniac talking about?

The two officers look at me, one of them grins and the other whistles,

"Sarge, you really are brilliant."

I've never looked manly, my light brown hair has a slight curl to it, my eyes are too blue, my eyelashes too long.. and to top it all off- I'm on the short-side. When I was little, people often thought that I even was a girl. If i'd have been born a girl, Dad wouldn't be pressuring me into following in his gardening footsteps and i doubt he'd be constantly trying to "toughen me up". But up until this point, I'd thought that being a boy was going to save me from something much worse than a beating. I should have realised, by seeing the way those men were looking at me and feeling the way that the Sargent was touching my face, that my life was about to take a plunge. Right down to hell and back.