Sold to a gang leader

9. The Cane

When I finally pulled myself together, I stood. Still feeling the pain in my neck, I shrugged it off. It wasn't the first time I shrugged off an injury. I was used to it now, it was nothing special. It wasn't some talent I picked up, it was a skill I had to learn. If I didn't, I never would of made it this far. I would of died a long time ago.

Now that I think about it, my life had always been like this. Get beaten, but turn not to break. If you broke, shattered, or fell apart... I wouldn't be here. That's what scared me. I used to think that the cane that uncle Kevin used to hit me with was scary, but the thought that I could of died if I didn't make the right decisions was scarier.

I shivered. The cane. It was still frightening, I can still hear his chuckles, and his dreadful laugh when he hit me with it. My blood curding screams, and tear filled cries would echo throughout the house. However, not one person came in to see if I was okay. Maybe no one was there to hear me? Or maybe no one cared?

Either way he still hit me. That cane, was around ever since I turned nine. I hated it. When ever I heard him walking, he would drag that thing along the floor, and use it to knock on the door. Telling me, warning me that I was about to bed sentenced for a few days.

They only good that came out of that cane, was that when he beat me with it, he wouldn't beat me with it the next day. Nor would he hit me as hard. Aunt and uncle still wanted me to be able to scream. They got their pleasure from my pain. Why?

That question had haunted me forever. Ever since aunt Diana and uncle Kevin hit me for the first time. Why would they laugh at my screeches? Why would they sneer at my questions? Now it was stuck in my head, and I could feel my self shaking.

The cane.

*****

I heard several knocks on the white door, but it sounded different. The knock didn't come from a hand, or knuckles. They were different, and I was a little nervous. What would my uncle come in with to torture me. He had already beaten me. Only four hours ago, I was still stiff. My arm still aching from when he grabbed it, and through me up against the door. Ouch....

I rubbed my arm, and listened to the lock on my door rattle. Then the keys in his pocket jingle. I could feel myself trembling. I sat in the middle of the bed. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I was trapped here, forever their punching bag. I thought they loved me. Maybe they just have a weird way of showing it. I was nine then.

I sighed when I listened the clicking sound of him slowly turning the key in the lock. My heart rate had increased, and my breathing was no longer light. I push my hair out of face, and waited for uncle Kevin to walk in.

He turned the door knob and opened the door. "I'm back." his words rang through my ears, like nails on a chalk board. That's when I smelt a very familiar smell, coming off of uncle Kevin. Alcohol, he had been drinking. However not too much, the aroma wasn't that strong. Which means his mind is sort of it and sort of out.

He walked in, with his hands behind his back. "I know I've already taught you your lesson today, but a extra one won't kill ya." his voice was slow, and deep. He, most certainly, have been drinking. I gulped. He revealed the thing that was behind his back. A cane? I don't know that uncle Kevin needed a cane, but i haven't come out of this room in a while, so....

He must of caught my gaze and he smiled. "This isn't for me dear, I can walk just fine. I just need to use it for tonight's lesson." there was a lump forming in my throat, and my heart dropped. Within seconds, he had grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. I was on hands and knees.

"Will it hurt, uncle Kevin." I spoke, voice was shaking. I heard his laugh, and it was shaky, and very uneven. "Of course it will hurt, and you may need to rest tomorrow. But I won't hurt as much tomorrow... my treat." then with that he came down hard with the cane. Slashing my back.