Ok well this isnt really a nice little fic, not really not at all. I came up with this when i was reading one of Sherrilyn Kenyon's books in her Dark Hunter series and a a memory of one of the characters was not similar to this but it got me on this path to writing this, i wrote up to the where the flashback happens and then it sat on my computer for about 2 weeks before i started writing it again. But its been a month and i've finally gotten it done. (Dances)
Disclaimer: I do not own beyblade and as much as i would love to i dont own Acheron either (sigh) that bloody bitch goddess has her claws so tightly in him i dont think anyone could get them out. ( if you've read Sherrilyn's Dark Hunter books then you know who Ash is)
Warning: Just a little warning this isnt a nice little fic at all so if you dont like reading about characters being beaten i suggest you turn back now...You were warned just dont go complaining to me if you read it and dont like it so dont bother flaming me cos i'll just use them to keep warm and toast marshmellows
Alright if your brave enough to read this then go forth my duckies
The small form of a seven year old boy lay curled in a tight ball on the harsh stone floor, his arms curled protectively around his head. His back throbbed and burned from the harsh beating he had received only minutes ago. The slight tickling sensation as his blood trickled down his back from the open wounds to pool around him on the ground, was almost too much to bare.
Pain pounded in his head as he tried to lay as still as possible, every tiny twitch of a limb sent pain racing through his body. Tears scorched the back of his throat as he tried desperately not to let them fall and failed as a tear slid past his clenched eyelids and trailed down his cheekbone to splash noislessly on the stone floor.
His small form shook with tiny tremors as tears and sobs wracked him, his mind kept replaying over and over like a broken record what they had done to him.
Two burly guards walked swiftly and deadly across the large dining hall intent on only one thing; retrieving their target. Their faces were blank masks as they grabbed the small boy under the armpits and hauled him up from his seat, his legs dangled uselessly 2 feet from the ground.
The hall was silent as all eyes were on the helpless boy being carried out the double doors and down the hall, quickly lest they be seen actually watching they turned back to their pathetic meals before they joined him.
Cerulean blue eyes widened in panic and fear as he was carried down halls, around corners and a few flights of stairs to the lower levels, the only sound in the silence was the thunderous footfalls that echoed off the walls and the small boys harsh and ragged breathing.
As they went deeper and further down into the catacombs beneath the abby Tala's panic rose 'til it nearly crushed him with its weight. He didn't want to go down there, boys who were taken down there never came back again, Tala didnt want to become one of those boys.
He was carried into a lone room that held two large wooden posts in the middle, the rest was empty save for a man with a deranged smirk on his face and I cruel, nasty looking whip held loosly in his hand.
Tala screamed and twisted his body, kicking his legs out at the guards holding him. He wasn't going down without a fight. His strugglings seemed to make no impact on the guards as they stonily carried him over to the poles where they bound his hands tightly.
He struggled and pulled at his bonds trying to loosen them but was only rewarded with a painful blow to the head. Tears stinging his eyes he stopped struggling his his thin ragged shirt was torn from him leaving the pale unmarred skin of his back exposed to the man with the whip.
He hurd laughter behind him, the man walked slowly towards the helpless boy his steal capped boots echoed loudly off the walls, the metal tip of the whip scraped along the ground. The man planted his feet a few metres behind Tala and raised the hand that held the whip.
Tala tensed knowing that great pain was to follow. The whip sizzled and sliced through the air cracking loudly on Tala's back. Pain exploded through Tala as the flesh on his back opened up, he had never felt any pain like it before, the whip cracked down on his again and he jerked forwards. The ropes bit harshly into his wrists, Tala bit his tongue to keep from crying out as tears coarsed down his cheeks.
Tala wasn't sure how many times the whip bit into his flesh once was too many. He was numb to the pain, the only thing keeping him standing upright was his bound wrists tied securely to the poles. The footsteps neared him and his body shook with the effort it took, to not collapse. A harsh voice told the guards who had never left the room to cut his bonds.
Tala fell to the ground in a heap and bit his lip as some of his wounds cracked open again, he felt the metalic iron taste of his blood in his mouth. A booted foot slid under his chin and lifted his head, opening his eyes he was greeted by the sight of another booted foot swinging to meet his stomach. All the breathe left him as the blood in his mouth exasperated over the shiny black boot.
An outraged growl echoed around the stone walls of the room, "look what you did you worthless runt, you got your rotten blood all over my new shoes." Pain sliced through his scalp as a large hand roughly fisted in his hair dragging him to his feet. Tala's body shook with convulsions as he tried to stay up right on his feet, but the blackness that came up from behind his eyes was almost too welcoming to resist.
A fist slammed into his stomach making up double over in pain, someone Tala remained standing. He panted desperatly trying to get air into his lung, he was using every ounce of strength, determination and courage that he had just to stay standing and not cry out.
Hysterical laughter bounced around the room coming at him from all directions. The man that had punched him grabbed his arms and held them behind his back, Tala gritted in pain as the gaping wounds on his back constricted and opened yet again. Fresh blood poured hotly down his back as he was pushed from the room, the man still holding his arms.
His eyes slowly opened revealing opalescent eyes tinged with anger. He raised himself up on shaky arms and sat on his knees, his back still throbbed violently but he refused to let that bother him. Gritting his teeth he used the stone wall for leverage as he eased himself into a standing position.
His entire body shook with the effort it took to keep himself upright, his knees wobbled and threatened to collapse sending him tumbling to the floor. With a growl filled with hurt, guilt, rage, he slowly made his way towards the door.
He was determined to not be weak, he had training to do and damn all who stood in his way. His back and head throbbed something fierce as he made his way slowly along the cold stone corridors, his bare feet padded softly against the frozen ground.
His head began to spin as he took the stairs down into the lower underground where all training was held. The familiar sound of beyblades spinning reached his ears making him grimace in pain as his temples throbbed in response.
Pushing open the heavy door almost got to him as he felt some of his wounds crack open and start bleeding again. Trembling he managed to get the door open, ignoring the pain in his head and back and the blood that began to plop onto the floor he made his way over to his team.
He ignored the whispers and stares of the other boys as he crossed the floor. Holding his head up he placed one foot infront of the other and only concentrated on that lest he fall over and let them see how weak he was.
Spencer, even at the age of 9 was tall for his age and large, much larger then any of the others, just stared at him wondering what he had done to deserve such a beating. Bryan, who was not much shorter then Spencer was, decided that ignoring the state his younger team mate was in, was the apropriate course of action. Kai, the youngest of all four, at 6 years old was considerablly short for his age but his strength was up around that of Spencer and Bryan; looked at Tala, concerned at the state he was in.
Bare chested, Tala ignored his team as he set up his blade and launcher. Mentally berrating himself each time he fumbled or trembled. He swore to himself that he would not let Boris know that all he wanted to do was collapse and sleep for a week. No, he was determined to act like nothing was wrong.
He was not going to become one of those boys that just all of a sudden vanished and was never seen again. No, he was going to become the strongest, even more so them his team. He swore it on every breath he took, that he would one day become the strongest boy here.
Ok so there you have it, if you were brave enough to make it through this please let me know what you thought, constructive criticism is gladly welcomed as im always willing to improve.
I guess i should stop being a bitch to Tala but he makes it so easy, eh i'll make it up to him later Lol
So all thats left is for you to review so pleasy weasy lemon squezy :)