Deacon - Nicholas Bella Page 0,1

the crawlspace.

“Leave my mum alone!” I roared as loudly as I could, but even to me, my voice sounded so frail… pathetic.

One very tall man stood before me, draped in the pelt of wolves and long wool pants with muddy boots. He was tying his breeches as he looked at me, smiling.

“The balls on this one,” he said, nodding at me.

“Indeed. I knew you were under there,” I heard a deep, baritone voice say from behind me. “I was wondering if you were going to come out on your own or if I was going to have to bloody drag you out.”

My heart skipped a beat as my breath stilled in my lungs. I was frozen in place like a statue, too afraid to move. I heard his footsteps coming around me, then he was standing in front of me. A large man with animal skin and fur wrapped around him and a sword at his side. His red hair was long, down to his shoulders, and his beard and mustache were full. He reached down, placing a bloodied finger under my chin, and lifted my face up to his.

“Handsome boy,” he said, then grinned. His eyes panned to the knife I held in my hand. “Now, what were you planning on doing with that?”

I felt something hot and wet trickle down the length of my leg and it took me a minute before I realized I’d pissed myself. The two men laughed.

“Scared, boy?” he asked, his tone darkening, becoming threatening. “Pitiful.” He snatched the knife from my hand with ease, and I jerked back in shock by how fast he was.

The nausea rose up inside of me again and my eyes clouded with tears as I felt their wetness rolling down my cheeks. “P—please… do… not hurt us,” I begged.

He laughed then. “A little late for that, boy. Your father is…” he paused and turned, stepping aside, then pointed in two directions. ‘Well, part of him is over there and the other half is over there.” I saw a glimpse of my father’s guts spilled out of his torso onto the floor and shut my eyes as fast as I could.

The man gripped my chin and guided my face to where he wanted me to look. “Open your eyes, boy.”

More tears flowed down my face and I shook my head as much as I could considering I was in his grip. “Please, I… I… I do not want to see it!” I begged.

“Open your fucking eyes and look,” he demanded.

Terrified that he’d kill me if I didn’t do what he ordered, I forced myself to open my eyes.

“Now… look at what’s left of your father.”

I looked at my father’s corpse ripped apart in two pieces. His legs and lower waist were near the front door, so limp and bloody. Again, I had to look at his face. His eyes were open, staring forward and empty of life. His mouth was twisted in a show of immense pain, and I couldn’t imagine the last thoughts that had gone through my father’s mind before he had been murdered. The nausea won out, finally, and I vomited my dinner onto the floor. The man laughed. Some of it hit his hand before he could move out of the way. He didn’t seem to care as he flung the foulness from his fingers, then wiped his fingers off on his pants.

“No stomach for violence, boy? Don’t worry, I’ll make a bloody man of you soon.” He patted me roughly on the back as I was doubled over, spilling my guts and tears on the floor. I heaved, but nothing else came up. I straightened and looked at the man who held my life in his hands. In the background, I could still hear my mother’s muffled screams and I didn’t know what was happening to her, but I knew it was bad. I knew well enough it was something no woman should ever go through.

“Please d—do not kill me,” I pleaded in a hushed whisper, barely audible. Some hero I turned out to be. I wanted to save my mother and couldn’t even save myself. I cried hard, snot bubbling from my nose, but this time, I did wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt. It wasn’t only fear that brought these tears to my eyes, it was shame. So much shame.

“You, boy, I won’t kill. Natural-born children like you are spared in this territory battle. Well, those twelve years and