Warning: May include torture and child abuse.
You have been warned...
(And I think I'll make the artworks part of this book now. Unless there are complaints.)
••••••••••
Susie's P.O.V.
I ran back "home" with my features twitching to a scowl, trying to look a jot more feisty so I'd show that oaf who's in charge.
That bitter old oaf.
I never understood why he treated me like this, like I was just a tool to complete his plans, a puppet with him pulling my strings, making me shudder in utter disgust.
Once I was far enough, I paced my steps steadily, growling at every happy detail of the road I was to walk upon.
I hated this now more than ever, I know he'd be waiting for me, just to laugh at my misfortune, like he wasn't already.
Kris' feet were glued to the ground in fear of my rage to burn brighter, well, that was what I expected, I'm not really the sharpest tool in the shed.
But in seeing the confusion that bored its way onto him made me feel broken...
My soul was becoming soft.
No!
Stronger!
I need to be stronger!
My fists will served as my words. Along with the bitter scowl that was "gifted" onto me.
People will cower under me, my eyes will never shone light, for it will be covered by a dark saturation.
I will hear the pained cries of those I have wounded.
Blood? It will become a norm to see.
Screams? Music to my ears.
Pain? Wouldn't it be nice to feel?
But those weren't my words, they were my dad's. The ones he forced into my stale mind because of my foolishness.
I continued walking, steps inflaming with my ferocity. Scowl now as bitter as my dad's.
Stronger.
Stronger.
Stronger.
He'd repeat to me. Again and again. To push me to my limit, making me stumble and fail again and again.
I let out an exhale, dimming down my rage like smoldering fire.
My fury was going down, and I was glad it did so, or I would've gone on a rampage that would cause this place to become nothing more than ruins.
My pace slow, just to see if I could waste my time away so I'll have to deal with his lectures and torture a tad less.
To his view, it wasn't torture, it was "training".
To hell with that man. He never cared.
He never did.
All he ever wanted was for me to become ferocious, lifeless, and slaving for his every command. He didn't show me love, or even kindness.
Sometimes I just wished I was never seperated from my mother's grasp. Or, maybe I should've died along with her, wouldn't it better?
My answer would always be yes, but today, I was conflicted. But why?
I haven't achieved anything important for me to have the strength to continue living.
YOU ARE READING
Control (Krusie)
Fanfiction(C O M P L E T E D S T O R Y) Control... It was something that slipped through Kris' hands after the adventure in Darkworld. The Player was becoming more dominant, more determined. It was itching every bit of his being. He felt as if he was a toy...
