Chapter Three : Anxiety

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|| ᴛᴡ: ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ||

As soon as he entered the front door of their broken home, the boy had a growing feeling of dread spill through his tired veins. He knew they were home and tried to run upstairs to the safety of his room before his name was called like it would have been at his execution.

He stopped dead on the creaking steps and gripped the railing tightly with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping this life was just a nightmare. His name was beckoned once again, the harsh voice coming from the living and he quickly turned and walked slowly down the dark hallway, the sound of a late tv show broadcasting on the low quality tv set.

Entering the doorway, he lifted his lowered head and look towards his adoptive father, who was sat in the corner of the room, one leg folded over the other with arms resting stiffly on the sides of the old, ruby red arm chair. His hands were clenched, and his sleeves were rolled up as he looked through furrowed brows at the boy who stood weakly in the doorway.

"Where have you been?". His father's voice boomed deeply around the room causing the young John to flinch, his eyes blinking and shoulders tensing shakily as he tried to remain balanced. The father slowly got up when the boy didn't answer, not being able to speak from the fear that was forcefully planted deep within his chest.

John began to walk slowly back which only angered his father more. The old man reached his veiny hand out to the boys neck and gripped tightly, his temper fuelling the strength within it to grow tighter. The boy gagged and yelped, his small hands gripping the old man's large tanned forearms, trying to avoid touching his rich and luxurious clothes, since last time this happened he crinkled them and was forced to iron them out, being burnt at the same time.

The man lifted the teenager a couple off inches from the ground with both of his hands, hungrily blocking the air from his lungs. "I said, where have you been?!". John tried to reply but all that could escape his crushed throat was silence. The father clucked his and swung johns weak body around by the neck, his sudden release in grip sending the boy stumbling to the already cracked and marked wall.

The young John Duncan fell to the ground and gripped his throat, violently coughing and gasping for breath. He thought right there and then his adoptive father would kill him. The old man spat down at the boy and harshly spoke the words "filthy little demon" before returned to the living room, his heavy boots echoing harshly against the floor sending vibrations across it to assure John that this, unfortunately, wasn't a dream.

***

The fear John felt, the anxiety he experienced with the Duncans never left John's chest whenever he was in Joseph's, The Father's, presence. He looked up to him but was terrified of the power god had bestowed upon him. That power reminded him too much of the power he felt through his adoptive father fists and his mother harsh and insulting voice.

When The Father ushered john to loosen his grip on you, the familiar pain within his chest, at first a small seedling, had bloomed into twisting ball of thorns that scratched beneath his chest, taking his breath away for a split second just like it did when his father gripped his throat those nights.

Although he wanted you to respect his brother, he loosened his stabbing grip on your arm and unlocked it from your back, still gripping your shoulders tightly in a way that wasn't visible to The Father. But The Father spoke, his words calm but sharp as daggers in the Reaper's ears.

"Let her go brother. She is not a threat to our family. There is no need for this disrespectful behaviour towards our guest who has done so much for us". Although he knew his brother was just trying to get on your good side with compliments, he felt scolded and like a dog tucking its tail between its legs he slowly let go of you and returned to stand behind his brothers and sister, distracting himself from his thoughts and memories with the colour of you eyes and the fear that filled them.

"Come..." the father place his hands on you shoulders, the beads wrapped around his left hand slowly rolling down your skin, sending shivers through your body. "You must be tired and in need of a good meal".

He quickly looks to the followers who held the sheriff and the marshal behind you and you turned you head to them, seeing them going out the door before Joseph quickly place an urgent hand on your chin and turned you back towards the family.

"You have no need to worry about your—" you interrupted "Where are you taking them?". Asking The Father with a shaking and breathless voice where they were taking your team didn't upset him.

John, however, felt angered by the disrespect you showed to his brother. If it were him he'd grip the back of your neck and say, "Is that any way to ask someone who's being so kind to a sinner so tainted?!" but he held his breath, stopping the oxygen in the air from fueling the fiery wrath within his stomach.

"They will be taken care of just as you will be. We will you rid you of your sins and welcome you with open arms into our family, where you will finally feel safe from the world's atrocities. We will feed you and help you all understand what it is we do here. We will handle you with care, so long as you are accepting of God's gift of knowledge to us. There is nothing to fear".

A side of you was calling bullshit and just wanted to go home with the whole family in hand cuffs so you could receive your pay check and move on with your life. But another side of you listened to the man's gentle words as they slowly soothed your ears that became absent of the adrenaline echoing around your head.

You were curious. You wanted to know what he had planned for you and why you felt unsettled when he said, "so long as you are accepting". That and you were curious about what kind of person John Seed really was. you knew he hid behind a persona, this Baptist that cleansed your soul of sin and cared.

Your curiosity was always stronger than your determination and you wanted more proof of the stories you had heard back home. To know more about him and why the hell he wouldn't stop staring at you like you were a meal.

Maybe you could see what they really do here. You used the excuse that finding out more information for the report you'd write, when... if you got home, that would promote you. So you felt justified in accepting the father's proposal, but your doubts were telling you that this was a very bad idea, making you hesitant to move.

This fed the young Baptist's excitement. perhaps, due to your reluctancy,  he'd be able to use violence after all.

(( ᴏᴏғ ᴊᴏʜɴ's ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴍᴇ sᴏ sᴀᴅ!! ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙɪᴛ! ʜᴏᴡ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʟᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ? ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs?? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ᴊᴏʜɴ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ???


ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ 𝟹-𝟺 ᴅᴀʏs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀs!


ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʟᴇᴍᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs, ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ! ))




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