Yes, Master

Chapter 9: His Tormentor

Third Person POV:

Flashback

The boy scurried out the bedroom door once he realized who was inside. It was his room, but his roommate always had his best friends in there, and the young boy wasn't particularly fond of them. He closed the door with haste, and began to walk briskly down the hallway. 

The child began murmuring to himself. "It's alright. They didn't see you. Don't draw attention to yourself. Keep walking."

He trailed off, drifting into his own world. Because of this, he didn't hear the slight creak of the door behind him, or the sound of feet coming down the hall. Before the boy knew what hit him, he was sprawled on the floor with another boy pinning him down. Punches came across his face and blood started to ooze out of his nose. The weight of the older boy who had pinned him down was crushing his windpipe, and he was soon unable to breathe. At that point, the older boy lifted himself off of him and two others joined in harassment. Their legs made contact with every part of the small boy's body that they could. Soon enough, the little boy was crying, begging them to stop. 

His roommate's voice rang loudly through the halls. "Don't you know not to bug us? You little bas-"

"BOYS!" An old, female voice shouted over the action. Suddenly, the beating was put to an end and all three boys had been lifted off the smaller one. "James! Nick! Toby! I thought I told you to leave poor Joseph alone?!" The old woman scolded the older boys. "You three are almost adults now, so you should be setting an example for the younger ones!" Her eyes bored into each of the teenagers. She always hated giving punishments, but these boys had gone too far this time. "That's it! You three are to go straight to bed, no dinner! And in the morning you will wake up early and clean this entire house! Now, go to your rooms and I don't want to hear a peep out of you until the morning!" Her voice was stern and on the edge of hysterical. 

The three boys drag their feet to each of their rooms, stomachs growling. As soon as she was out of earshot, James gave Joseph the death glare and whispered, "You'll get it tonight. Don't you worry." Young Joseph's eyes shone with fear as he watched his roommate, James, march to their room. 

"Are you alright, Joey?" The old woman used her pet name for the boy. She walked over to him and pulled his hair to the side. 

"Yes, I'm fine, Ms. Davynn." The boy leaned away from her touch, only to be brought into a hug. He grimaced, but let his caretaker have her moment. He didn't hate her, he loved her actually, but he didn't want any more excuses to be made fun of. 

"If that ever happens again, you just call my name. Okay?" She looked down at him with love, and wiped an old tear from his cheek. 

The boy nodded and left the arms of Ms. Davynn. He trudged down the hall, and up the stairs that led to the rooftop. He always liked going there when he was having a rough day. Plus, it was his recluse from his tormentors since they couldn't fit up the narrow ladder at the top. 

Joseph leaned against the stone wall, watching the sunset and the busy street beneath him. He talked to himself aloud, allowing nothing to make him afraid. The young boy comforted himself with words of affirmation, and cursed his peers for making his life miserable. He often came up here to talk to himself. It was only up here, away from everyone else, that he felt happy and free.

"They only hit you because they are intimidated by you. That's what Ms. Davynn has always told you."

"And you believe that?! Of course you love her and want to trust her, but you know she is wrong. Those boys, scratch that, everyone in this wretched orphanage makes fun of you because you are different and weird."

"I'm not so different and weird! I still like comic books and cars like the other boys!" 

"Sure, but every night you crawl up to this rooftop and talk to yourself. That's weird."

"I only talk to myself because I'm the only one who understands me. Even Ms. Davynn looks at me strangely sometimes." 

"Yeah, well that's because you're crazy and aren't man enough to admit it. You draw pictures of yourself killing your peers in your school journal!"

"Well that's because I hate them! I hate them all! They deserve to die!"

The boy's scream trailed off and was lost in the wind. His hands were now sore from punching the wall in front of him. It was true he was a little crazy, but who wouldn't be after 12 long years in an underprivileged orphanage? 

He was abandoned by his parents when he was born. He was left on the doorstep in a cardboard box. Dumped by the people who gave him life. Joseph was extremely bitter and hated his parents. It was their fault he was in this place. 

The child had grown up in the orphanage, now at the tender age of 12. His tormentors were about to graduate and leave, because they were almost 16. Joseph still had a year before they all left, but it was better than being around them forever. However, sometimes he dreamed he could run away from this place, and from the hands that beat him almost everyday. 

Of course, it was just a dream. By the time he made it a block down the road the police would catch him and bring him back.

After another hour of contemplating, the sun had disappeared from the horizon and Joseph was engulfed in blackness. He could hear Ms. Davynn called his name for dinner, so he reluctantly left his hideout. 

Dinner passed, uneventful. Joseph sat alone as the other kids' voices echoed around him. With each passing minute he grew more scared, as he imagined what would happen when he got to his room tonight. He mumbled to himself, trying to achieve comfort. The children around him sent odd and judging looks, and Ms. Davynn eyed him warily from across the table. 

Once dinner was over, Joseph warily trudged up the worn down stairs to his room. The other children ran around him like a river around a stone. They refused to touch him and treated him like a disease. Their whispers echoed through the hall, just loud enough for the boy not to hear. There were girls giggling and boys teasing in hushed voices. 

"Did you see the way he was talking to himself at dinner? Weird."

"Where does he go every night anyways?"

"Stay away from him. He might touch you and give you something worse than cooties!"

Joseph had reached his room, and slowly turned the knob to open the door. The other children's eyes watched him as he walked inside for a night of torture. Once through the doorway he was met with hands that shoved him harshly to the ground. He fell face first, unable to catch himself. James pounced on his back and brought Joseph's tiny arms behind his head. He smirked to himself. He was so weak, hardly an excuse for a boy. 

The night continued with beatings from James and Joseph's pitiful cries for it to end. Soon enough James had had his fun, and decided to finish with a threat that would surely keep Joseph out of his hair. 

"I don't want to see you. Ever again. If I do, you will get what happened tonight ten times over." James towered over Joseph's pitiful frame. Joseph nodded as quickly as he could, understanding the demand. The older boy walked to his bed, and Joseph sat on the ground, petrified. The threat rang through his ears and he decided right then he couldn't be here anymore. He got up off the floor and ignored the death glare from James.

Quietly, and with as much speed as he could handle, Joseph made his way through his bedroom door and down the long hallway. He paused by the entrance to the roof, remembering the freedom he felt up there. He craved more of that. With a split second decision, he left the door and quietly descended the stairs to the main floor. They led to the front door, where he hesitated. It was the middle of the night, so no one would be out to stop him. He just had to stay in the shadows and avoid everyone. 

Joseph's silent feet made their way to the front door. He cautiously opened it and slipped his small frame into the darkness that night held.