Here We Go Again

10: Lost, Beaten, and Found

August 15th

"I can tell you're getting bored with me, little man." Peter looked up at him. "Oh, you poor little man. Did I make you sad?" Peter wiped his face with his sleeve and the man's face twisted into an ugly, mischievous grin. "We'll have to do something about that attitude. Shall we have some fun, little man?" Peter stared up at him in fear and confusion and the man stepped closer to him. He obscured the light and Peter filled with terror.

He really just wanted to go home.

[This chapter is pretty physically violent and stuff, so just be cautious if you don't like violence. Not heavy descriptions, but just letting ya'll know. Also, a bit more cursing than usual. Just FYI.]

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To be completely honest, Peter was expecting some sort of sexual harassment. He got a kick in the stomach instead. Then another one, and another one. Then a fist came down and slammed into his cheek, and a knee came up to hit his chin.

Fuck my life, thought Peter.

He was punched in the cheek again, and he bit down, accidentally biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He winced and sucked in a breath before he was pulled off the mattress. The man bunched up the front of Peter's shirt in his fist and smiled.

"Hello. How did you like that, little man?" he asked, voice suddenly soft. Peter, for a split second, felt like he could tell him everything, but realized after that split second that this man literally just punched him in the face, and that he would not be telling him anything. Peter just looked at him. The man tutted. "You know, Peter, I really don't want to hurt you." Peter would have laughed, had it not been for the pain in his chest.

"I don't, honestly. But, I have to. You and your silly little family and your annoying pest of a boyfriend are stopping all my hard work. You see, a few months ago I sent this ship to come blow up the harbor. Your boyfriend came on my ship, killed my men, and blew up my ship. It was quite rude, actually. That little bitch blew up all my bombs!"

"He's not a bitch," Peter spat. A hand came down and flew across his face, leaving him with a sharp sting on his right cheek.

"Don't talk back to me, little man, and don't interrupt, bitch."

"I'm not a bitch," Pete snapped. He got a kick to the shin and fell back onto the mattress. Pain shot through him and he honestly thought he broke the bone, though he knew it was unlikely.

"What did I just say?" the man shrieked. "Don't answer that," he added. Peter would have rolled his eyes, but he didn't want to get hit again. He may not have wanted to get hit again, but he did. And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again until he couldn't feel anything but white hot pain blossoming from his chest and face.

"I'll see you when I see you," the man muttered, sending a final kick to Peter's shin before he disappeared. Peter's head tipped back against the wall and he practically fell apart once the wall closed.

Tears streamed down swollen cheeks from purple eyes and he wrapped his numb arms around his bruising legs. Peter curled into the smallest ball he could at the time and he lay on his side, his head resting on the edge of the mattress. His whole body burned and crying wasn't making it easy on his lungs either, but he was too tired and beat-up to care. He sat there on the cold hard ground, suffering until he finally drifted into a less-painful, and unconscious, discomfort.