The texture of mud slid across the boy’s face as he was tackled to the ground by the man with bloodshot eyes. 

 

His ragged breathing, dirty cloak, and foul stench struck feelings of fear inside the boy’s mind. 

 

He felt the man’s hand quickly wrap around his head, gripping at his black hair before lifting him off of the muddy farm soil and unto the moonlit sky.

 

It was overwhelming. He couldn’t breathe. The man’s hand was covering the young boy’s face with only the palm of his hand. 

 

Cloaked Man: “Where’s the goddamn money?!”

 

Strengthening his grip on the boy’s head, the cloaked man yelled out in frustration, letting only a squeal squeeze it’s way through the in-betweens of the man’s gigantic fingers. 

 

The boy felt hot, as if all the heat from his body was quickly rising towards his head. 

 

Feeling the sensation of his skin slowly pulled away from where it once was, it felt as if his face was going to peel off. 

 

Cloaked Man: “Are you going to give me an answer or are you going to keep squealing about!?”

 

Frustrated by the treatment of silence the boy gave him, the cloaked man violently jerked his hand in a circular motion, consequently shaking the black haired youth. 

 

He squealed once more, his head getting dizzy. The boy couldn’t convey his words, in fact, he couldn’t even comprehend the situation he was in at the moment. 

 

The cloaked man shook the boy once more. The man let out a grunt, separating his fat fingers to stare at the boy with his bloodshot eyes. 

 

It was grotesque. The corners of his eyes had red veins that seemed as if it would pop at any moment.

 

Boy: “I-I don’t know anything about any money. I swear!” 

 

Responding in a shaky voice, the boy couldn’t help but look in any other direction to avoid the man’s daunting gaze. 

 

He looked away from the man’s eyes, peering behind the giant dark head of his. 

 

He saw a fire. A mixture of yellow and orange majestically flowing left to right as it consumed the farm house of which he and his parents resided. 

 

Near the fire was a woman in a dark cloak that brought out boxes, clothes, and tools. 

 

Boxes that seemed familiar, clothes that bore similarities to his, and tools with bright colors that only two people in the neighborhood had. 

 

-Isn’t that enough? Aren’t you guys satisfied with all our stuff? 

 

The cloaked woman began walking towards the boy and man, with her chest pushed outward and her arms swaying around her hips, to the boy in the midst of puberty, it seemed as if she was the embodiment of femininity. 

 

Cloaked Woman: “Well, I think that’s about everything. Mind giving me a hand Bloo?”

 

Speaking to the cloaked man with her gentle, feminine voice, the cloaked woman pointed her finger towards the pile of boxes and items that she stole from the farm house. 

 

Cloaked Man: “Ugh! For the last time it’s Bloodshot, not Bloo! And what about the damn money!”

 

With his hand still gripped on the boy’s head, the man named Bloodshot turned to face the cloaked woman. 

 

She crossed her arms, sighing with a slight smile on her face. 

 

Cloaked Woman: “I looked everywhere for it. Believe me, I did. There was just nothing there. So I burned the house down in case they hid it somewhere within the house.” 

 

Bloodshot: “Well then, what should I do with the kid?”

 

Cloaked Woman: “Kill him if you want. I don’t really care. Plus, it would give those two farmers a reminder to pay on time, as well as lower the possibility of the kid ratting out on us. But again, it’s up to you dear.”

 

The woman began to walk back towards the pile of items, giving Bloodshot the freedom of doing what he wants. 

 

The man turned his head, looking back at the boy with his bloodshot eyes, and let out a hoarse sigh. 

 

Bloodshot: “You know kid. I’m not the kind of guy who would go out and joyfully kill potential clients. But, a job’s a job, I hope you can understand that.” 

 

The boy felt his heartbeat quicken. Quivering in fear, he swung his legs in a running motion.

 

He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. But he was held captive by the man’s grip, and as a result, the boy went limp, softly crying.

 

Boy: “Heep!”

 

He felt his body rise even higher, leading the strength of Bloodshot to weigh down on his mind. 

 

-If he was able to pick me up with such ease, then if he were to throw me-

 

The man let out a grunt as he jerked his hand downward, cutting off the boy's thoughts as he was thrusted into the ground.

 

The back of his head was first to reach land, the abrupt pain sending the sensation of sharp needles towards the boy’s mind. 

 

He puked out a plethora of saliva and he felt the sensation of blood oozing out from his nose. 

 

The boy let out a muffled scream, the lower part of his body jerking itself left to right in a desperate attempt to leave the man’s robust grip. 

 

He wanted it to stop. He wanted to somehow break out of the man’s grip, defeat him, and run away. 

 

But looking at the man’s eyes through the small crevice of his fingers, the boy knew that this wasn’t some trash power fantasy. He knew that he had no way of beating him. And it caused him to cry out in pain as he realized that the man intended on attacking once more. 

 

Effortlessly raising the boy’s slender body, the man swung down once more, and like throwing a glass vase onto the ground, the bones in the boy’s neck shattered.

 

-Agh! It hurts. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!

 

His neck had been fractured and his throat suffered as well. He was unable to breathe, unable to speak, and so the boy was left in agony, with no way to convey it. 

 

He wanted to move his arms, to move his thin legs and run from the cloaked man but to no avail. 

 

He was paralyzed from the neck down, leaving his pleas to move around useless. 

 

He made the movement to cry, his eyes closed and tears streaming down his face, but was stopped by the excruciating pain of his broken neck. 

 

It was scary. No matter how many times the boy desperately tried moving something from the neck down, it always resulted in failure. 

 

And so, the boy gave up, opening his teary eyes to peer at the man with bloodshot eyes. 

 

Fear had left him and the pain gradually went away. 

 

All he wanted to do was rest. 

 

He looked at the man once more, who had raised his large fist. 

 

He was going to hit him. He was going to die. 

 

The boy was scared. Anyone would’ve been. But despite that, the boy couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. 

 

-I just hope… just hope that… this isn’t the end.

 

And with that thought, the boy -Raymond Bell- was smashed into the slippery farm soil by the man with bloodshot eyes.