Cripple

It was a long time since he had last called him Daddy. Now it made him sick to remember those days, they only reminded him of what was lost and which punishments were awaiting him.

The times when stars used to explode in front of his eyes and he had passed out from the pain were long gone. No more merciful unconsciousness, just horrified, wide eyed staring as his father violated his body. If he dared to close his eyes he would be punished, completely blinded with a mask and his mouth gagged. Maybe his father would let those other men hurt him again, hurt him beyond measure. He never had figured out how this had happened, why his father did this to him. He had dared to ask once and the fist had hit his face so hard he had met black oblivion. Dean vaguely remembered other times, his mom alive and a little baby brother.

The door opened, no more time to think. Smile, smile, smile. His father wants him to smile. Don’t show the pain and hide the bruises, pout those delightful lips. Don’t look up, kneel and look at the floor obediently, maybe he won’t hurt him so much. He still wants to know why.

John smiled as he entered the room and saw Dean kneeling on the floor. It wasn’t quite a smile, more a grimace of a man whose face was mostly contorted in anger. He walked around his son and looked down on his back. Most of the wounds had healed thanks to John’s first aid and the scars were few. ‘Let’s make him bleed’, thought John as he brought the whip down on Dean’s back.

The end