Sorry, Wrong Number Kid (Avengers)

5

"Elevena! Get up." Tom shouted as he began to kick your body on the bed, pushing you into the floor, almost knocking the wind out of you to cause you to awaken.

"I'm up." You whispered while standing. Not bothering to correct him on the wrong pronunciation of your name, Ready for the punishment you would deserve surely.

"Why didn't you do your chores?" He shouted, not touching you yet. You could smell the bourbon on his breathe. It was awful.

"I did do my chores. I showed you this morning." You stated calmly, not wanted to cause a scene.

"You did not little liar!" He shouted while lifting you and throwing you against the nearby wall, you whimpered as your body collapsed onto the floor.

He just stormed over to you, grabbed you by your hair and dragged you over to the corner that you dreaded most. He began to chain your hands too the wall, lifting your feet off the ground because you were to short, very much hurting your shoulders.

"What is it today.. hm?" He questioned while walking to the staircase and pulling a cardboard box from under it. Your breath hitched as you saw him drag the terrifying box towards you.
"Answer the question!" He demanded, he enjoyed to let you pick your choice of torture, making it increasingly more difficult.

"B-bat." You muttered, your voice shaking.

"Bat huh? I don't know... I think you deserve two this time... how about I bring Jeremy down here to pick the other?" His grin was sickening. You just nodded your head quickly, watching as he stomped up the wooden staircase.

Now would have been a perfect opportunity to shift. To phase away and escape. But he would surely kill you if you did. Plus, the chains laced on your wrists prevented that.

"Hello peasant." Jeremy joked while jumping down the steps, walking right up to you.
"I heard I get to pick one today! Excited albeit." He smirked while searching through box as your father began to walk down the steps as well.

Jeremy wasn't the smartest kid. He dropped out of highschool last year when he was 16. It was sad to think a boy only two years older than you had such control over you.

"Dad, I know which one I want." He smiled viciously while standing up with a knife in his hands. Your dad nodded and took it from him, you gulped deeply, prepared for the pain to come.

Tom undid the chains surprisingly, dropped you too the floor and laid you on your stomach, holding you down with his combat boot digging ferociously into your back. Your father straddled you and you new was was coming.

I guess knife was a free shot for another word. Your sixth word now. He bag an to carve into your upper back. Right between your shoulder blades. You cried out softly as the knife came in contact with your pale skin, stopping yourself from making any noise shortly after.

Useless.

That was the word he continued to carve, letter by letter into your back, tearing through the skin, deeply cutting you.

Your brother began to beat you as well, at the same time with the bat. You held back your tears but couldn't hold back the painful welps and grunts that erupted from your mouth.

Finally your father stood up. You could feel the blood trickling down your back. Your brother dropped the bat and kicked your legs until you flipped over onto your back.