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Prologue:
"Stay behind me, Bard," the eleven-year-old ordered his brother over the roaring downpour of the rain.
The 7-year old boy – Bard – dove behind his brother with astonishing speed, water droplets flying from his soaked blonde hair turned dark brown. Bard proceeded to quiver behind the older one with fear, clutching his slightly blue hands to his knees. His baby blue eyes, however, shone with a determination to survive the disaster that was quickly making her way towards them.
A few thumps emanated behind the old, off-white shed with its paint peeling off. The older brother reckoned that it was not the thing they were hiding from, since she would have found them already since they were right besides the outer shed wall, and the footsteps sounded almost… scared. A huffing and puffing could be heard as well, which suggested that it most definitely was not the predator that was stalking them.
A blonde, bearded man who looked like an older version of the brothers stumbled out behind the shed and breathed a staggered sigh of relief when he saw the two. “Jeg fant deg,” he panted. “Jeg fant mine små gutter.” He started to cry, adding more water to the cold liquid falling running across his pale face, only this time it was warm, and he was happy about that. He was hypothermic enough as it was. “Jeg trodde hun drepte deg!” The man was sobbing now, his 6-foot frame sinking to one of a childs’. “Jeg er så glad for at du er i live. Mine små gutter er i live,” he sobbed between hiccups of happiness. He couldn’t believe their luck. Both of his children are alive.
“Og vi har tenkt å holde den veien,” the older one said confidently to the older man. “Vi vil ikke la deg ned, pappa.”
The father smiled in relief when a voice rang over the backyard, bouncing against the fence directly to the runaways. “Where are you, my darlings?” She sounded ordinary, like she was calling them to dinner. “I am worried about you. This is not a game of hide-and-go-seek.”
The man, not understanding English, asked his oldest son what she had said. The boy translated happily while Bard tried to stand up. He rested his hand against the shed, feeling the rough wood underneath the bumpy paint. Would this be the last time he would feel anything?
Bard slowly ran a hand through his brother’s light (very wet) blonde hair, which had also turned brown in the rain. This is what he last wanted to feel. The comfort of his brother, whether or not he styled his hair weird or that he was smarter than everyone in the house combined.
His brother looked back, smiling at Bard. That was the last thing Bard wanted to see. His brother’s loving, sweet smile, a gesture that Bard had always wished that he could see every single day of his life. If this was the last day of his life, then he would gladly look at that smile when he died.
“You’ll be okay,” the older brother whispered to Bard in his heavy accent. “We’ll all get out of this, don’t worry.” That’s the last thing Bard wanted to hear before he died. His brother, even if what he said were just false promises.
“It’s not like I’m going to poison you or anything! I don’t bite!” the woman's voice danced over the rooftop of the shed. “I’m only your mother, for God’s sake!”
The father looked to his son again, who rolled his eyes slightly and translated. “Du må lære engelsk,” he scolded his father, making the older man chuckle a bit.
Bard stifled a gasp. A figure in a long dress was slowly walking towards them with what looked like a thick string on a handle. The woman soon came into view, the light on the shed illuminating her face. She looked so… nice. Normal. A typical, blonde-haired woman with a rain hat on just coming to get them for dinner because him and his brother were playing hide-and-go-seek, while him and his sibling would giggle behind the shed and she would pretend to be baffled about their whereabouts.
Only this time, they weren’t playing, and they definitely weren’t laughing.
Her face snapped back to look at the boys huddled in the corner. She took slow, long steps towards them. All three males were paralyzed with fear. What was she going to do to them?
“Found you!” she shouted like she was playing. “It’s time to go inside, boys! Mama isn’t going to eat dinner herself, you know, and it’s pouring out here.” She turned towards her husband. “Og hva gjør du her ute, Erik?” she lectured. “Du bløder våt! Din antrekk er ødelagt! Her reparerer jeg det for deg. Kom innvendig.”
All three of them nodded slowly, shakily getting up with widened eyes. The older boy’s watery gray eyes stared at his mother defiantly. “If we go inside, will you promise not to hurt us?” he demanded.
“Why would I do that?” she laughed, her own gray eyes sparkling. “I am your mother. There is nothing to be afraid of!”
Bard eyed the whip that was clearly in her right hand. He tugged on his brother’s shirt. “Hun gjorde ikke…” he gulped. “Hun lovet ikke.” He couldn’t speak English right now. It was bad enough as it was, and besides, he doubted that he would be able to remember any words of his second language, he was so scared.
All three of them supported each other as all of them stumbled their way towards the house, with Bard in the middle. “For å beskytte ham,” his father explained. Bard didn’t see exactly how that was going to protect him, but he accepted it anyway.
Their mother quickly opened the sliding glass door. “Quick! Inside!” she ordered her boys. “I don’t want you getting even more wet!”
Their hair was brown, sticking to their forehead. Their clothes were clammy against their wet skin. Their eyes all had water dripping into them, and, if they could’ve, they could wring out a gallon full of water from their clothes and their hair, and they all stank of wetness. All three men thought the same rueful thought: How is being more wet possible?
Their mother marched them into the living room, not caring that all three of the boys were tracking water and mud all over the kitchen tile and the living room carpet. Noticing the stains, she laughed a little. “Jeg rydder den opp senere,” she promised her husband.
“Anette, hvorfor gjør vi dette?” their father demanded.
Anette turned her head towards him. “Er det ikke klart?” she asked him. “Jeg skal slå deg. Du var en veldig dårlig gutt.”
Erik paled. “Nei,” he whispered. “Nei.” Bard was shocked, and his brother was starting to tremble with fear. Bard felt tears coming on. No, he must stay strong, he must…!
But he cried anyway, because “Jeg skal slå deg” means “I’m going to beat you.” His mother was going to beat his father! With that whip!
She cracked the whip in the air, silencing him. Erik crouched down to Bard’s level. “Sweetie, jeg kommer til å bli bra. Jeg kommer til å bli bra,” he reassured his son. Looking up to his brother, Erik nodded to him. “Du vil gjøre gode ting en dag, hører du? En dag, men ikke nå. Ikke prøv å redde meg. Dette er min skjebne, og jeg vil godta det.” The gray eyes widened and the boy mouthed “Nei.” Now he was starting to cry too. Erik stood up.
“Jeg er klar.”
Anette smiled and shoved him to the floor. “Legg deg ne dog ta av din skjorte,” she ordered. Erik did as told and Anette pointed towards the couch, which was right there. “Sit,” she demanded. Bard and his brother followed orders immediately, not saying a word. They knew to not mess with their mother.
Anette raised the whip - the rhinestones on it glittering in the lamplight - and brought the first blow onto Erik’s back, drawing blood on the first try. Erik’s scream of pain echoed throughout the entire house, chilling the bones of all inside of it except for Anette. Anette just grinned slyly and brought down the next.
1,200 whips and a few hours later, Erik was numb. He knew that one more whip will kill him, and that he must say one last thing to his beautiful sons before he died. He glanced up at his children one last time. Bard was curled up crying on the couch and the other sat there, staring with horror. Erik attempted to smile.
“Jeg elsker deg, mine sønner,” Erik forced out.
Both boys heard it. Bard watched in horror as his mother, with the same sly smile on her face from the start, brought the whip down one last time to bring their father’s death.
His body laid there, his back literally shredded into ribbons. Strips of skin hung off of the sides and a pool of blood was spreading all over the nice white carpet. In parts, the muscle was stripped off so much that you could see the backbone. Bard gagged from the sight and already sweet smell, not having moved from his feeble position for hours on end, and threw up all over the floor. Anette tsked.
“That’ll be hell to clean up,” she muttered. She dropped her whip. Bard wiped the liquid vomit from his face and attempted to clear his throat and celebrated in his mind. She was finished! She wasn’t going to hurt them any-
Bang!
It was all slow motion to Bard’s brother. First, Anette had pulled out a shotgun and pointed it at Bard in one swift motion. Then, she pulled the trigger.
It was loaded.
Bard’s body jerked back, a spray of blood squirting from his head. The corpse landed on the couch, twitching and stinking already. Some of it was on his brother, who was looking at those places and at Bard’s corpse with the same horrified expression at the same time. His trembling hands reached out for his brother, as if it’ll bring him back to life.
“Guess it’s not the living room anymore!” Anette laughed shrilly.
He touched the neck's skin. The skin was hot, but there was no pulse underneath. The boy’s face was pale and gaunt as he twisted his head around to look at his mother. He was the only surviving one. He needed to make sure it’ll stay that way.
Suddenly, the boy vaulted over the couch and landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Adrenaline coursed through him as he ran from his mother’s gunshots. She uttered curse words as she reloaded the gun, for she had missed the child completely.
He ran into the backyard again, through the open back door. The rain had transformed into a complete downpour, washing the last remnant of his brother off of his body and making him wet again. He was also completely blinded from the pouring rain, but he pushed forward trying to blink the water out of his eyes.
However, despite his best efforts, he was stopped by his mother three steps in. He bumped into her, and the blonde-haired, gray eyed boy looked up at her figure with fear.
“I’m not done with you yet,” she growled as she grabbed him in the scruff of his neck.
He was helpless as his mother carried him into the house, through the living room, through the hallway, and into her bedroom.
The door shut behind Tord and his mother with a finalizing thud.
---
A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoyed! Here are the "translations" (I used Google Translate, sorry) below! -
Jeg fant deg. Jeg fant mine små gutter. Jeg trodde hun drepte deg! Jeg er så glad for at du er i live. Mine små gutter er i live. - I found you. I found my little boys! I thought she killed you! I'm so glad you're alive! My little boys are alive!
Og vi har tenkt å holde den veien. Vi vil ikke la deg ned, pappa. - And we intend to keep it that way. We will not disappoint you, Dad.
Du må lære engelsk. - You should learn English.
Og hva gjør du her ute, Erik? Du bløder våt! Din antrekk er ødelagt! Her reparerer jeg det for deg. Kom innvendig. - And what are you doing out here, Erik? You're wet! Your outfit is ruined! Here, I will fix it for you. Come inside.
Hun gjorde ikke... Hun lovet ikke. - She didn't... she didn't promise.
For å beskytte ham. - To protect him.
Jeg rydder den opp senere. - I'll clean it up later.
Anette, hvorfor gjør vi dette? - Anette, why are you doing this?
Er det ikke klart? Jeg skal slå deg. Du var en veldig dårlig gutt. - Isn't it obvious? I'm going to beat you! You were a very bad boy!
Jeg kommer til å bli bra. Jeg kommer til å bli bra. - I am going to be fine. I'm going to be fine.
Du vil gjøre gode ting en dag, hører du? En dag, men ikke nå. Ikke prøv å redde meg. Dette er min skjebne, og jeg vil godta det. - You will do good things one day, you hear? One day, but not now. This is my fate and I will accept it.
Jeg er klar. - I am ready.
Legg deg ne dog ta av din skjorte. - Lay down and take your shirt off.
--
I hope that helped! Google Translate probably got it wrong, but... oh well. Again, I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned for the first chapter! --
Kara
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