Rhun

He cowered as yet another blow of the whip cut viciously across his back. Pain seared through his body, causing him to cry out in agony. His screams sounded more the cries of a beast, in human.

A booted leg landed a kick firmly against his ribs, pushing him on to his side where he curled up into a ball, knees clutched to his chest. The stone floor was hard beneath his body, harsh and yet somehow reassuring in its solidness. He began to rock slightly, humming as he became lost in his own world, trying to block out the pain. Another kick, this time to his stomach winded him slightly, bringing him back to reality.

'Get up.'

He looked up at his attacker, dull eyes beginning to tear. He shook his head vehemently as he tried to speak, 'D-don't do that.' His tongue felt thick in his mouth, struggling to form the words that he wished to say. Rhun did not want to be locked in the cellar again. It was dark, cold and lonely. He always locked him in the cellar. Rhun did not like it there.

Another vicious kick to the stomach left him gasping for breath. He sprawled out on to his back, struggling to draw air into his parched lungs.

'Up!'

Rhun struggled to rise, failed and hit the floor with a loud 'thump'. His attacker dropped the whip that he had held in his grip. His large fist gripped Rhun's tattered shirt, dragging him across the kitchen floor and thrusting him up against the wall. Rhun physically recoiled from the look of pure violence that was his attacker's face. His head impacted hard against the wall, pushed back from a blow to his jaw. A trickle of blood began to flow from his ear.

'Useless!' Garvey's voice was harsh as he struck Rhun's face again. 'Can you do nothing?' Blows continued to come, striking his son's bruised body with all the anger he held inside.

Rhun winced as the blows continued to rain down upon him. Tears now flowed freely from his eyes, the salt water stinging the small cuts that covered his face. Pain overwhelmed him as a fist landed against one of his ribs that had been cracked the last time. His screams wore down to sobs and moans. Fear held Rhun still as the barrage continued; keeping him from fighting back.

The sight of Rhun's tears only served to anger Garvey further. He threw Rhun down on to the ground, easily managing the weight of Rhun's large, but mostly useless body. He proceeded to kick him again and again as he continued to shout:

'Your mother was a whore who died giving birth to a half-wit bastard! A babe in a man's body! Pity you didn't have enough brains to die with her! You're a good for nothing leech that should never been allowed to draw breath!' Rhun's father was short of breath from the effort it took to continue his tirade.

Anger began to stir within Rhun, eating away at him. 'D-don't do that,' his words were slow, but easily understood.

Garvey sneered, 'What will you do?' He laughed softly, knowing that Rhun could do nothing.

'Don't do that,' Rhun's words became more firm and confident. A fire began to burn in his normally dull eyes, giving him an entirely different appearance. Rhun pushed against his father, over throwing him and pushing him to the ground. Rhun jumped to his feet and moved to stand above the man.

'You don't say those things.' Rhun's hand shook as he pointed his finger down at him. 'You don't say those things about mama.'

Garvey began to move in an attempt to rise. Fear overcame Rhun; he had done a bad thing. He knew he would be punished. He remembered having to lift heavy rocks and move them to the other side of the garden, only to have his father so it was wrong so he had to move them back again. He remembered long lonely days locked down in the cellar, he remembered the beatings and the tears he had cried. He could not remember being happy.

'You wait, boy! You won't like what comes next!' Garvey was now standing at his full height, three inches shorter than Rhun with a lot smaller build, and yet Rhun cowered before him, waiting for the blows against his head, or the crack of the whip across his back. Then he remembered; he had pushed his father to the floor, he had caused his father pain. The realisation filled him with anger at what his father had done. He said bad things about mama, he hurt Rhun. Rhun looked up and saw Garvey coming towards him, fist raised. He expected Rhun to do nothing, to cower there in fear and never fight back.

Rhun turned and ran to the wooden bench that was just behind him. Its surface was rough against his palms as he leant back against it. Garvey followed him, his presence threatening. He bent down to retrieve the whip that had been cast aside earlier, flexing his grip as he held it in his fist. A tiny smile crept slowly across Garvey's face. It quickly transformed into a sneer as he raised the whip and cracked it across Rhun's chest, the lash cutting through the thin material of Rhun's shirt and drawing blood. Pain seared through Rhun's body, making him angry again. It had not been often that this particular emotion had been Rhun's own, but now it seemed familiar to him. Anger drove away any fear he had known, any reasoning that may have stopped him. Seeing his father raise his arm again, he grabbed a kitchen knife, which lay beside a cutting board that had been left out on the bench from dinner preparation earlier. It felt unfamiliar in his grip, but it also brought a sense of power, something which Rhun had never had.

For the first time a glint of fear came to his father's eyes. They kept darting down to where the knife lay in his grip, sizing up whether Rhun was mad enough to use it. Garvey seemed to have come to the conclusion that Rhun was too simple to go through with it; too afraid. He stepped forwards again and brought the whip down again, lashing out at Rhun's shoulder, the tip of the whip just narrowly missing touching the high ceiling.

It was too much; the pain pushed him over the edge. He quickly took two steps forward and plunged the knife into the chest of his father. Garvey's eyes became wide with shock; he bowed his head to stare down to where the blade had entered his chest before falling back to the ground, his breathing short and fast. Blood began to pump from the wound and he began to gasp as it became more difficult to draw breath into his lungs.

Rhun stood back, staring. His mind did not understand what had happened. He had hurt Garvey, and Garvey was on the floor bleeding. Fear rushed into his mind as he realised the enormity of what he had done. He knew he would be punished. He wouldn't be let out of the cellar again. Tears began to pour from his eyes and his own breathing came in short, quick gasps. He did nothing as he watched his father's chest still, and the blood stop pumping. The entire time, Garvey had not emitted a sound. Rhun moaned as he let the blood coated knife fall from his hand. It clattered to the stone, a ring sounding as the blade touched the stone. He raised his hands to his face, covering it with his fingers, leaving streaks of blood where his fingers touched. He stood there for a long time, staring at the body through the cracks between his fingers.

That was how he was found, hands covering his face, the body lying on the floor before him in a pool of blood. There was much yelling and screams sounded throughout the building. Rhun heard none of it. He shut down. He did not know that he was locked in the cellar. He did not know about the whippings and beatings that he received. He did not know about his march to the stocks outside. He did not feel anything as the shut it over his neck and wrists. It was not until the moment before the sword touched his neck that he knew anything. He died believing that he was bad, that he was evil. He died thinking that he had killed his mama, and now he had killed papa too. He was bad.

His head fell to the ground, severed cleanly from his body, perhaps the only act of mercy that had ever been committed in his favour. No one wept in grief for the life of the simple boy who had lived a life of pain and died knowing nothing else.