White Alchemist

Christopher's tricks

A child, no older than ten sat in the corner of a dark room. His eyes dark, his heart darker. His dark scraggly hair sat right on his head.

He swayed back and forth murmuring something to himself. It was a nursery rhyme. It was humpty Dumpty.

He didn't like that one in particular very much. He'd thought it a tragedy how Dumpty would fall from the wall and shatter into so many pieces that even all the king's horses couldn't piece him back together.

He was singing it only because it was the only one his mother had taught him. Not just that, he sang it because it distracted him.

It distracted him from the bad sounds. From the sounds of his mother getting beaten in the other room.

He rocked back and forth and tried singing louder. But his voice was too sore. He was already exhausted and his fresh bruises from his own beating still hurt.

It was his fault that his mother was getting beaten in the first place. If only she'd kept quiet and let his dad beat him like he did every other night.

B