What have I become?
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
What was once a lively fighting ring full of furor is now empty. BO, blood, and something stale hangs in the air. The empty ring is quiet, minus the shallow breathing of someone barely clinging to life and Ambrose's own heaving. He kneels over the fallen fighter, but he this victory still feels a bit empty. It's not exactly the victory he was looking for, he wanted something else.
"F-father..I won..", his voice was exhausted, but it was also expectant.
After spending years in isolation for his disgraceful existence, getting his father's approval is the only thing that saves him from going back to those years of loneliness. He wanted his father to say he was proud, that he did good. Anything.
"You're not done.", the grown man's voice shatters him.
"What..? What do you mean..? I-I won...isn't that enough?", Ambrose's voice was small, it made him sound pathetic.
Without a warning, his father yanks Ambrose by the back of his head. He pitifully cries as his hair gets tightly pulled.
"His blood. Drink it.", Ambrose's eyes widen
"No! That's..That's wrong!", the older man scowls
"What's right or wrong doesn't matter in this cesspit. The strong devour the weak.", he then shoves Ambrose's head into the barely living man's gash.
The young boy thrashes and tries to get back up, but it just gets his face rubbed into the open wound. Even if he was able to fight grown men, Ambrose felt like he couldn't resist his own father. Resistance was futile, at least if he ever wanted to please his father. The metallic smell was suffocating. Ambrose couldn't breathe. Every breath was full of blood and a sickening smell of meat. Just as he instinctively tried to beg to be let go, blood enters his open mouth.
The taste of iron fills his senses. It's awful, but it somehow makes his blood rush. It partially tastes..sweet somehow. It makes his blood rush. His tired body is suddenly full of energy as he feels some weird sense of euphoria from such a taboo act. He hated it. He hated it so much. His hands clawed at something, anything to get him out of this. Instead, he just hears screams from the man underneath him. More metal. It's all he can smell, it's all he can taste. He wants to puke.
After what felt like forever, the painful grip is finally released. As he gets up, Ambrose's mind is hazed. He feels so filthy, but a maniacal part of him feels so exhilirated. To see if he's finally satisifed, Ambrose turns to see his father. Instead, he watches his father walk away. Nothing was said. No praise, not even a scolding. The indifference hurted even more. Ambrose's chest tightens as tears stream down his blood smeared his cheeks.
"Wh-what have I done..?"
"F-father..I won..", his voice was exhausted, but it was also expectant.
After spending years in isolation for his disgraceful existence, getting his father's approval is the only thing that saves him from going back to those years of loneliness. He wanted his father to say he was proud, that he did good. Anything.
"You're not done.", the grown man's voice shatters him.
"What..? What do you mean..? I-I won...isn't that enough?", Ambrose's voice was small, it made him sound pathetic.
Without a warning, his father yanks Ambrose by the back of his head. He pitifully cries as his hair gets tightly pulled.
"His blood. Drink it.", Ambrose's eyes widen
"No! That's..That's wrong!", the older man scowls
"What's right or wrong doesn't matter in this cesspit. The strong devour the weak.", he then shoves Ambrose's head into the barely living man's gash.
The young boy thrashes and tries to get back up, but it just gets his face rubbed into the open wound. Even if he was able to fight grown men, Ambrose felt like he couldn't resist his own father. Resistance was futile, at least if he ever wanted to please his father. The metallic smell was suffocating. Ambrose couldn't breathe. Every breath was full of blood and a sickening smell of meat. Just as he instinctively tried to beg to be let go, blood enters his open mouth.
The taste of iron fills his senses. It's awful, but it somehow makes his blood rush. It partially tastes..sweet somehow. It makes his blood rush. His tired body is suddenly full of energy as he feels some weird sense of euphoria from such a taboo act. He hated it. He hated it so much. His hands clawed at something, anything to get him out of this. Instead, he just hears screams from the man underneath him. More metal. It's all he can smell, it's all he can taste. He wants to puke.
After what felt like forever, the painful grip is finally released. As he gets up, Ambrose's mind is hazed. He feels so filthy, but a maniacal part of him feels so exhilirated. To see if he's finally satisifed, Ambrose turns to see his father. Instead, he watches his father walk away. Nothing was said. No praise, not even a scolding. The indifference hurted even more. Ambrose's chest tightens as tears stream down his blood smeared his cheeks.
"Wh-what have I done..?"
