Dark Descendants-Isle of the Lost

Life in the Doghouse

(Yep, I'm starting with Carlos. He is my favorite, after all.)

CARLOS SCRUBBED THE GROUND AS HARD AS HE COULD, but he still couldn't wipe off the bloodstains decorating the tiles.

"Hurry up, boy!" Cruella snapped. The villain sent her son a nasty look from her perch on a black leather sofa that had a crocodile skin patch draped over it. Her black and white wig shone brightly in the light from the sun that was coming through a slight opening of a curtain, and her red lipstick looked were the same shade as the stains Carlos was trying to dispose of. "You still haven't finished brushing my furs!"

He scrubbed it even harder, making his sore back muscles scream in protest. Tears burned in his eyes.

He hated doing this. He hated having to do slave labor for his mother while she sat back and watched him like an eagle watches its prey. But it wasn't exactly like he had a choice. He'd tried running away before; it had ended pretty badly. He bit his lip to keep from letting the tears slip down his face.

"Ooh, what is this?" Cruella motioned for him to stop, slowly stalking toward him like a cat after a mouse. Carlos fearfully looked at the ground, trying to avoid her gaze. He hated when she got like this. Unfortunately, that was all the time.

A hand under his chin forced his head back, making him look dead into her cold eyes that held a glint of maliciousness. "Weakness, I see. We can't have any of that... now can we?"

Carlos shook his head obediently. Weakness was something that his mother hated completely, saying it was a waste of time and energy and that anyone who had any form of it should be killed or punished right away.

"Just think of how ridiculed I would be by the others if they saw what a pathetic waste of a son I have," she continued, "crying because a couple of measly chores!"

He flinched at her words, and, unfortunately, she caught that too. "Oh, look! More wimpiness! It saddens me to see you this way, boy, it really does- so sad and pitiful, like a kicked dog. You'd think after all I've done to make you tough and strong, you'd be a little less... you."

He felt like curling into a ball and dying. No matter what he did, how many rooms he cleaned, how many errands he was sent out for, his mother would never be satisfied.

The malicious glint in her eyes grew brighter and Carlos bit his lip worriedly.

"That's it! What do dogs do when broken?" He didn't answer her question. He was afraid to. He'd seen a beaten dog before, and it wasn't pretty. "They get all tough and crazy! Crazy like... like..." She struggled to finish, then found what she was trying to say. "Like me!"

She let out a cackle that sent chills down his spine. Then she suddenly stopped and whirled to look at Carlos. Her smile was so wide that it made her face stretch in unnatural proportions. "Now all I have to do is... break the dog."

Carlos thought that if there was any a time to run away, it would be right then. He turned around and sprinted as fast as he could. The only problem was... he didn't seem to be moving. In fact, it seemed like...

He slowly looked over his shoulder and saw his mother right there by his face. He let out a whimper at her furious expression. She let go of his collar and grabbed him by the roots of his curly hair. "Nice try, boy. You're not going anywhere."

Well, that failed, he thought as she began to drag him up the stairs. Towards the Punishment Playroom.

Carlos squirmed and fought his hardest, using all the tricks in the book- going limp, wiggling like mad, screaming, everything. He finally had to stop when she said that she would make it extra long compared to normal. His torture sessions were bad enough without having it being drug out even longer.

Tears slid down his cheeks in hopelessness as they neared the room that held so many tears, so many screams, so much blood. All of which were his.

"Mothe-uh, Master, please d-don't," Carlos pleaded. "I... don't want you to st-strain yourself."

"Ha! How considerate," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't worry boy, I'll be fine. I need some exercise somehow. Besides, I always feel so much better after these."

Carlos gave up trying to escape it, finally accepting his defeat. Every time he tried to stick up for himself or get away from his mother, it always ended up worse for him

Like when he ran away at eight years old because he wanted to get more food from the Dump. He couldn't feel his back for a week after Cruella found him.

And when he was ten, he tried to run away completely, not just for some of the leftover food of Auradon. Once she found him... it hurt a lot, to say the least.

Every day since then, he was sent to the Punishment Playroom, and every day he was sore from the pain of his beatings.

It pretty much sucked.

They finally reached the room. Cruella opened the door, letting it creak as it slowly moved aside for dramatic effect.

Carlos's breath hitched in his throat. He started thrashing against her hold again, his will to escape even stronger than before. He let out a howl like a mournful dog. "No, please! Don't do it! I'm sorry for crying, I didn't try to. It's just the body's reaction to pain, I swear! It's not because I'm weak."

"Quiet!" she yelled, pulling his hair up until his head hit her shoulder. He had to look in the corner of his eye to see her, but the sight of her outraged face made him gulp. "You pushed yourself too hard, huh?"

He nodded quickly.

"Then I'm gonna push you until you break."

Her words chilled him to the bone. He let out another whimper and started to shake uncontrollably. "I don't really want to break, thanks."

"Too bad," she sang. Then she flung him across the room with unknown strength where he landed in a heap on the ground. "Where shall we start, huh?"

Carlos didn't answer. He was too busy trying to get his lungs to work again.

"Hmmm..." she tapped her chin as if pondering choices. "The dentist chair, the Dark Ages, or Accessory Acupuncture?"

Carlos shivered at all three options that she listed, but the accessory one hit the hardest, and Cruella knew that.

"Come 'ere." She bent over and pulled him up by his hair again. He let out a shuddery breath from the pain and she smiled. She took a deep breath, loving the fear that was rolling off him in waves. She just loved his reactions, loved the adrenaline rush whenever she did this.

She dragged him over to the big walk-in closet containing all the accessories she'd stolen from Jafar's Stolen Goods.

What? You thought she would use her actual accessories? Of course not! Those were her prized possessions!

She slammed Carlos to the ground again, where he rolled back and forth as he tried to get his breath back again. Then she waved her hand over the tools of torture, wiggling her fingers as she decided which one she would use.

The Broken Glass Slipper? Nah, she'd used that yesterday.

The Ring of Envy? Meh, he was scared enough. She wanted more of that pain factor.

Her hand rested on the original tool, the first one she'd used in this course: the Belt. Its metal spikes embedded inside it were wicked sharp, permanently tinged red form Carlos's blood.

Perfect.

She pulled it off its shelf and flicked it onto the ground, right next to her son's shoe. She relished in the way that he flinched, the way that his eyes widened with fright, and his eyebrows scrunched together in agony. Yes, he was much more enjoyable to the eyes when he was in pain and fear.

She ripped open his shirt with her long talon-like nails and let its tattered remains slip to the ground.

"Let the fun begin."