Reaper Of The Wizarding World - Volume 1 Chapter 1 Prologue

A/N, This chapter goes hard into abuse so if you aren’t good with this stuff to skip it, but know a lot of this forms his morals and personality. But for real It’s graphic.

—————

My name is Soren Melns, I am currently 16 years old… or was, from the earliest I can remember till now I have never been happy. My mother died giving birth to me and my father never forgave me for her death. I guess I was lucky he let me go to school, without it I may not have been able to endure all these years.

Father isn’t like those stereotypical alcoholic abusive parents who just beat their children to the brink of death, no he was smart. He had a good job, upper management at a realty firm, he kept the house clean and never showed anything other than a smile in public. However he was a completely different person when he got home, he didn’t let me stay out longer than 3pm, just enough time to make the 15 minute walk, or 10 minute run, from school.

If I was late by even a minute he would use a bag of soap and hit me until I no longer moved. If I was late by more than 15 minutes it would be his old high school cricket bat. He would hit my legs until wasn’t able to walk and I would limp around for the next week. If anyone were to ask I’d have to say “Yesterday was leg day” or whatever excuse I could think of at the time.

I wasn’t even allowed to associate with people at school, if he found out I was talking to people he would lock me in a dark closet for 2 or 3 days. I don’t really know how long, time is hard to tell in the dark, but I usually hear him go to work a few times so I assume 2 or 3.

He always buys me the latest cloths and have a clean haircut, it goes well with my handsome face. He makes me go out looking nice, he says my looks reflect him and if I don’t look good he’ll make sure i’m never seen again. If my shirt is untucked or my tie is crooked I earn a few licks from the cricket bat. Around the time I turned 14 and got into high school I started to stand up to my father, at first it only made the beating worse. But there was just one day, one time, when he went on his usual beating spree, I got a good hit in. I gave him a black eye, not going to lie I thought I was going to die that day.

I didn’t, I woke up in the hospital with my father by my side holding my hand, he looked concerned. Of course his concern was fake, apparently he had told the paramedics he had seen me getting jumped and saved me, that’s how he got the black eye. Amazing how stupid people are when they have blind trust in a “good man”. But after that the beating were less often, but just as severe.

I had already learned not to tell people about the abuse, no one would ever believe me, my father was just “too good of a man” to do something so cruel. The first time I tried telling someone that’s what I was told, he is just “too good of a man”, the first person I told was a police officer when I was 12. Turns out the officer was a good friend of my father from high school, he yelled at me and told me how much my father worked for me and how much father had loved my mother.

I take back what I said earlier, I did have one point when I was happy, starting a few weeks ago I started taking care of a kitten found on the side of the road on my way from school. I made sure not to get into trouble so father didn’t find out about the kitten. I kept him in my room, since my room was mostly empty except for a desk and a bed I had to keep him in the closet to hide it, the one father usually locked me in.

I knew I shouldn’t have kept it, I knew the kitten wouldn’t have a good life with me, not able to leave my room but I couldn’t help it, it was like a bright light in my darkness. It was my first glimpse at love and happiness even if it was from a small animal that just loved me unconditionally because I gave it food. I even named it little black, since it was really small for a kitten and had midnight colored fur.

That was until father found him…

——————————————————————-

As I walk into my room, just in time from school 2:58, I open my closet door.

*pssst* “Come here little black” I whisper

From inside the closet I hear a small *meow* and see a black kitten barely 4 inches tall trotting over to me happily. This brings a stupid grin to my face, smiling ear to ear as I hug the little guy.

*BANG* My door is kicked open “Stupid f.u.c.k.i.n.g kid, what the f.u.c.k is this report card, 2 B’s, 2! Are you trying to make me look bad!”

I stand up trying to hide the kitten behind my back I look at my Father and say nothing.

“… Boy, what is that behind your back?” He looks angry really angry.

“It’s nothing.” I plead

“Show me!”

“No”

“Fine, your choice”

He pulls out a cricket from seemingly nowhere ‘F.u.c.k where was he hiding that?’

He walks at me and swings… not at my legs like usual, I want to defend myself but i’m holding the kitten so I can’t. The bat hits me on the shoulder and I start to fall over, I move the kitten to my front and curl into a ball to protect it. But unlike usual he doesn’t stop hitting me he just keeps hitting, ‘it hurts’.

“Let go of it you stupid f.u.c.k.i.n.g boy, I don’t wanna leave too many bruises in one day.” He says with a slight smile on his face.

‘I don’t wanna die, I don’t want the kitten to die’ I look up at him.

“Oh the boy is growing balls, i’ll have to beat them out of you.” He raises the bat to swing again.

This time I watched the bat coming at me and grabbed it. ‘it hurts’ I’m pretty sure my hand is broken from catching the bat, but I don’t let go. I quickly put down the kitten with my other hand to grab it with both hands. My father tries to kick me off but I just tighten my grip and pull harder.

I somehow get it from his hands and kick him in the leg from the ground. He falls over and I manage to stand up, still in pain, I stand over him looking down at him.

He puts his hands up to protect himself “Boy stop now or you will regret it later.”

I look him straight in the eyes “No…. I won’t” I raise the cricket bat and I swing at his head.

And I swing, and I swing, and I swing, and I swing, and I swing, and I swing, and I swing, and I keep swinging until I hear a small *meow* next to me. I see little black is nuzzling my leg, I break down. I kneel on the ground hugging little black and I cry, I cry next to the meat pile that used to be my father. I cry there until I hear sirens in the distance.

——————————————————————-

I was arrested, I was forced to stand trial for my actions, I was forced to witness all my fathers friends and coworkers testify against me saying I was lying about the abuse. Testify that the man who tortured me my whole life was a good upstanding man, that I was a psychopathy who premeditated my fathers murder to make it look like self defense. That all my injuries from that day were merely my father trying to defend himself…. and they believed it.

I became the youngest person to be executed in America in almost 100 years.

As for where I am now? I have no Idea, it seems like I have been here forever It is like an ocean of darkness and I have no body. Hell I’ve been here long enough I started to talk to myself Hah.