The Beginnings of Oliver Keating//PREQUEL TO BEAR HUGS

The Beginnings of Oliver Keating

Oliver grew up the outcast, he never had any friends thanks to his parent's reputation. 

Marcus Keating was a feared man, he owned the pub and most of the shady business that went on behind the establishment too. 

Lisa Keating was plain cruel to everyone but her husband and her favourite children. She threatened to beat children who rode their scooters past her house and on Halloween she gave the trick or treaters mouldy lemons from the lemon tree in the backyard.

Oliver had two older brothers and a younger sister. William, Tyler and Miriam. 

William, the eldest, was talented in any sport with a ball, he made every school team and his room was littered with certificates and awards. The biggest trophies were in a glass case in the foyer. He was seventeen when they came. 

Tyler, the second born was drop dead gorgeous.His peers either wanted to be him or get with him. He was always Mommies favourite, her little angel. He was 14 when they came. 

Miriam, the youngest and the only girl, boy she was a whiz. A year level above her age and excelling in every subject. Like William, her greatest trophies on display in the foyer. She was nine when they came. 

Oliver was a disappointment from when he was born, before that even. 

* * * 

Mr and Mrs Keating step out of their Black Jaguar XJ6 outside the clinic. They head inside, Mrs Keating's hands holding her stomach protectively. As they wait for their appointment Mr Keating flips off two passer byes and spits in the flower pot. 

"Mrs Keating, just lay here and we'll get right to it," the cheery ultrasound technician smiles at the couple, unaware of how unlucky she was to have to serve these brutes. 

"There it is," she smiles as she moves the device across Mrs Keating's stomach. 

"Is the blasted thing a girl?" Mr Keating asks, bored. The technician is taken aback by the statement. 

"It's a perfectly healthy baby boy," she says sweetly. The couple shared a look that could kill. 

* * * 

"Oliver get down here now!" Mr Keating screams. A scrawny boy about eight sprints down the stairs scared of being too slow and having to receive punishment from his evil father. 

"Five C's and two D's? I raised you better than this!" He grabs his youngest son by the wrist. 

"I'm sorry daddy, I'll try better," he holds back tears and knows better than to try escape his father's grip.

"No boy, you will do better! Look at your sister Miriam, she's six and a year above her age with A's in everything. Why can't you be more like her!" Mr Keating throws his hand away sending the frail boy to the ground. 

* * * 

"Oliver!" The high pitched voice of Mrs Keating screams. A ten year old Oliver jogs in shame toward his mother. "Last place? Last place! The morbidly obese girl beat you!" She hits him over the back of the head with her purse. 

"I'm sorry, I'll try harder next time," Oliver bows his head. 

"That's not good enough" Mrs Keating rolls her eyes "Why can't you be more like William?" 

"I'm sorry," he whimpers at his mother's harsh words. 

"Don't say that when you don't mean it you ungrateful little shit. Your father and I give you everything you could want!" Oliver bites his tongue to hold back the string of inequities he has receved over his life.

* * * 

Oliver lay on his bedroom floor sobbing. He had turned eleven the other week and now lay bruised and battered with his only present lying on the floor next to him. 

"That ungrateful brat got what was coming to him!" He hears his father yell. 

"He better be thankful his grandmother is rich or he would never have gotten that bear," he can almost hear his mother roll her eyes. 

"This complaining of bullying at school is ludicrous. I refuse to believe I raised a boy that couldn't hit back!" 

"If he didn't hit back he clearly wanted it the attention seeking fag," he lets out another rack of sobs at his mother's words. 

"That's why I beat him, I want him to show me that he's a real man and not a weak little girl," his father explains his actions from a few hours ago.

"Good thing too, why can't he be more like Tyler, that boy is walking depression." 

"That boy will not live in my house if he continues this wimpish behaviour. I won't have it!" 

* * * 

Oliver hears a scream and his head shoots up. He bolts down the stairs to find four strange men in his house. He is horrified when he sees his sister and two brothers lying on the floor, their necks and clothes stained red. The intruders also have what the eleven year old identified as blood. The colour drains from his face and he tries to run but his feet are planted in place. 

They slit both Mr and Mrs Keating's throats and drink their blood as the life slips from their bodies. Oliver opens his mouth to scream but nothing comes out. The vampires' heads look up to the frightened boy on the stair. 

"A bit scrawny," the first one says. 

"We can't have a witness," the other one reasons. 

Oliver bolts for the door but the grown men, or whatever they are were too fast. Oliver lets out a cry of pain as he feels two points descend into the soft skin of his neck. Suddenly the intruders were knocked back and Oliver is surprised that he is still standing, only feeling a little dizzy. 

Another intruder stands in his house, one with a kinder face. 

"How do you feel?" 

"I, I," the boy stutters. and faints. The man catches him and picks him up and walks out the house, leaving the boodied bodies on the floor and the small boy in his arms.