• "Another bill, damn it women! You've got to work harder! We are running out of food and if these bills don't get paid off then-." The man's voice trailed out. Dark-and raspy from the drugs he'd taken recently. A women tall and over weight set her pudgy fingers onto her waist, giving him a quick glare. "It's not my fault!"

    She looks around for something to use-an excuse of sorts. Rusty was playing with a horse, making it look like it was trotting about. Her lips set into a thin line and she pointed to the boy. "It's his! He's ten now isn't he? He could be-no. SHOULD be working now to help us pay these bills and help to pay for food!"

    The man's dark eyes focused onto little Rusty.

    "And he will work, if he doesn't punishment will be inforced..." The two nodded and with wicked grins, they wrapped an arm around each other's neck.

    -

    "No mommy! Please I'm-I'm sorry!" The boy begged his mother, trying to sheild himself from her relentless blows, little arms up and attempting to cover his face. "You worthless-little-piece of s**t! I warned you! I WARNED YOU!" She screamed, right in his face. Tears ran down his oddly colored yellow eyes. His brown hair greasey, unwashed and uncared for. Coated in muddy dirt; it clung stubbornly to his hair. He couldn't shake it free, couldn't get rid of it.

    He knew that he probably stunk to high heaven, he couldn't remember the last time he'd even cleaned himself up with fresh clean water. His parents stopped paying for the water bill to save money for food. His mother struck him again, hard across his face, then a jab to his already sore, tender ribs. He felt one crack; heard the noise it made to confirm his thoughts. His mother froze immediately when she heard that sickening cracking sound. She trembled there, where she stood.

    Scared just like he was.

    His body burned, throbbed in immense pain. He begged her once more, hoping she'd stop now after breaking one of his ribs. She did. "Oh...My baby's hurt, my baby's hurt. My sweet little baby boy! Who-who did it, did this to you? Who hurt you my baby boy! Who!" She scooped up the whimpering little mess of a boy into her fat arms. Circling him with them in warmth. Rusty briefly thought that it was over, that his mother was finally going to change and she was going to stop hurting him and tell his father to stop.

    He really thought that things were going to get better, but he was sorrowfully mistaken.

    The moment his ribs were healed it started all over again. He worked his best, hardest to please his parents. It was never enough for them though. They would beat him continuously for hours on end until he was beaten black and blue. Sometimes he welcomed passing out when it came to him-it stopped the pain even for just a little while. He bled at times, he went hungry for days at times.

    The bugs at night, that crawled all around him he started to welcome as well. Naming a few that he saw more often than others. "Debby is my favorite." He would whisper to himself sometimes, as if someone was asking him. "She's fun and is a very pretty and friendly spider. She's sweet. She brings me crumbs! I like her a lot." He even made the spider a small little corner to make her web and catch her meals freely as she pleased.

    The small house with only three rooms was packed and stacked with things. The floors that Rusty had to sleep on were cold and the only thing that ever seemed him warmth was in the beating his parents gave him before bed. Pain hurt, but also gave a sort of warmth as well. Mold covered parts of the house and wall papere was peeling. It was hard-hard to sleep. There's no doubt that you'd have trouble to sleeping at night with the pain that you felt, and the coldness that was all around you. Hard to breathe in deeply; take only small breaths of air.

    The bugs that crawled-ones at night, the more active ones were the more dangerous ones. Some bit the boy, and those that didn't-well there was always that risk hanging there with some carring harmful diseases.

    One night, the parents found Debby-and they didn't take a liking to her...

    On that one night they took away the only joy the little boy had left. They took Debby away-he thought they probably killed her to. Rusty was miserable, and lonely. His parents stopped taking him to school when he turned fourteen. "You have more important things to do then going to school!" His mother sneered one day after school. Roughly grabbing his thin arm and dragging him away.

    School.

    Hard sure, but at least he got decent meals there. He could deal with the ridicule he received almost daily from other students-but the lose of good food crushed him. Silent tears ran down his hollow cheeks. His suffering unseen by-absolutely everyone-and his cries for help were unheard, they seemed to only fall on deaf ears.

    With the added lose of the good food he got from school he turned even paler, even thinner, and even weaker. Nothing but some skin and bone. His father was conjuring up a new method of torture for him. A game he called it. It was terrible.

    "Boy-oh boy! Come out, come out where ever you are!" The world slurred and gurgled-he sounded drunk. Rusty shut his eyes tight; knees up and his arms wrapped around them to hold them together. Whenever he was drunk his father liked to play that a cursed game of his.

    'Please.' He begged inside of his head. 'Please!' Tears trickled there ways down his dirty cheeks. 'No game, not tonight! Please no. Go away-just go away and leave me alone!' He pressed his sore body as much as he could against the cold stone walls, praying to anyone-anything out there that he could just disappear right now. Hide and blend into the darkness, disappear into it. Even if it was just for a little while.

    But no, the gods and higher beings where not with him today-because his father had found him.

    "There you are~the game of hid and seek is over~!" He sung insanely-a smile on his face that gave Rusty only supreme dread. "Oh-but don't worry! It's not that fun little game we play-oh no! It's not." His father grabbed a handful of the long brown hair. Inspecting it and giving a, "Hmm." Looking it over curiously.

    Rusty starred at him.

    What is he doing, what's he going to do? Is he going to tug on my hair and hold me up again, play 'hang man' with mom? He silently wondered-wincing at the thought of it.

    'Hang man," his parents version of it anyways was to hold him up by his hair and when one letter was guessed wrong his father who jab an area of his body with a metal pipe. If one lost and didn't guess the word correctly they'd beat him until he passed out.

    It was a fun game for them to play but not for him.

    But no, his father wasn't doing any of that to him. He wasn't calling down his mother, he was just-looking at his hair. A frown came to his lips. Rusty nervously gulped-instantly seeing that as a bad sign. It was never a good thing when his father frowned like that. It only mean't that something bad was about to happen to him.

    Maybe something worse then hangman or-the game.

    "I'm not going to hurt you today if you behave-I'll even give you three meals today if you behave. Are you going to behave for me?" The boy quickly, automatically nodded his head. "Yes sir." "I'm going to cut your hair. It's to long."

    It was true to, his hair had grown too long. He like it though, it rested at his knees and covered him like it was a blanket! He didn't want his hair to be cut short. It would mean colder nights and nasty biting bugs crawling over him while he slept-or tried to sleep anyways...

    But he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't say no. Not to his father, not to his mother. Plus, his father was offering him food! Three good servings of food...He was so hungry-so very hungry.

    "Okay dad."

    He said, throat dry. His father lit up like a candle. "Good boy! Very good boy!" He patted his head just like he was a dog. Rusty's lips twitched up, and he forced those cracked lips to smile very lightly at his father. "Thanks..." He mumbled.

    Rusty's dad heaved him up so he was standing now. Rusty's legs wobbled from the strain of being stretched after sitting for so long. He grabbed the wall and used it to help steady himself. "Let's head into the kitchen boy, and sit down in one of the chairs."

    Honestly he didn't trust his father with anything in his hand, especially when they were a sharp pair of scissors. Then again, he never trusted him or his mom. Not anymore. Not with what they've done to him over the year. Not with all the pain he's been through.

    With a slight shrug of his shoulders he walked over to one of the kitchen chairs and obediently sitting down and waiting for further instruction like a well trained dog. He closed his eyes, hearing the snip and click of metal shearing off his dirty locks, and the clank when they connected back together.

    They both stayed like that in uncomfortable silence, while Rusty's father went through the long, probably even tiring process of repeating his actions that caused those sounds; sounds seeming to echo through the silence in the small house.

    The long strands of dirty brown hair acted as a snake slithering; trailing down and falling down to the floor. It made dark brown clump; masses of hair gathered up into a circle and continuing to build up as more and more hair was cut from Rusty's head. Rusty's shivered, already feeling colder from the loss of the thick hair.

    Yet, his father wasn't even done, not even close to being done in fact. The scissors squeaked, getting duller from all the effort being put onto them. He, out of the corner of his eye could see that his father was picking up a brush and running it through some of the places that he'd cut now.

    Using it to help him cut certain area's of Rusty's hair now that it was only a little past his shoulders. He felt his father's finger ghost around-felt his finger brush across the sensitive hairs of his neck and make him shiver lightly.

    Snip, snip, snip, ad more of his hair was cut. He felt himself getting even colder now, used to having his hair cover up his neck. He wasn't used to this, he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all-because he hated new things.

    "It's looking good boy. It's looking very good. I'm very good at this you know. I could have-should have been a barber. I'd have been really good you know." His father cockily said, cutting through the silence just like he was cutting through Rusty's hair with scissor's blades...

    All that Rusty could do was just nod to him a little. "Hey don't move!" He shrieked. "Your going to make me cut off to much! or cut it uneven! I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't want that!" Rusty bit his lip, causing it nearly to bleed from the little pressure applied to it. "Sorry." He whispered.

    His father paused and Rusty became concerned that he'd done something wrong..."It's okay boy. Just don't move around. I need you to stay still for me!" and then he went right back to work. "I'm almost done though, so you can move around and look at it then okay?" "Okay."

    Only five minutes more and then Rusty was given the permission to move around-and his father handed him the best mirror that they had. It had a little crack but it wasn't that bad. He looked at himself in the mirror, at how his father did. Looking at how his hair looked like now-so much shorter and he hated it. He hated it so very much!

    He's of course never tell his dad that, he seemed so proud, and he appeared to be in one of his good moods. He really didn't want to wreck that up by saying something that he shouldn't. "It-it looks great dad...Really. I-I love it." He muttered forcing another small smile towards him.

    "Doesn't it? You look much better now then you did before boy! Let me tell you! I've really outdone myself this time. I'm a real pro when you put a pair of scissors in my hands and hair in front off me! A genius I'd say even!" Rusty nodded, eyes casting downwards as he handed the slightly cracked mirror back to his father.

    -

    The next day everything returned back to normal, he only got one small serving of food and the beatings came back returned.

    He didn't know-didn't know just how much more he could possibly take without dying and if he were to die here in this house; no one would know. No one would even care about a worthless little boy who had only one dream.

    He wanted to be loved. Truly loved by someone. He wanted someone to just listen to his problems for once; wanted someone to actually care about him. Was that all to much to ask? He couldn't live like this forever.

    Even though he really wanted his dream to come true he knew that he couldn't give his fragile heart to just anybody. It had to be someone special. It had to be someone he knew wouldn't hurt, or betray him!

    But maybe he was what his parents had called him.

    Maybe he was a dirty selfish boy, maybe he didn't even deserve something so wonderful as love was. It wasn't mean't for boys like him who didn't do anything right. Love wasn't for boys who were greedy and wanted a warm bed, or three meals everyday.

    Love wasn't for him and he should just accept that maybe.

    -

    This was it. The final and last straw. He has to get out of here! He was sixteen now-so he could escape with the old beaten down red truck. Both of his parents were gone and he was alone in the house now! This could be his one and only chance at freedom!

    He packed a few things, gathered up as much food as he could carry with him, and hopped into the truck with the keys in his hand..."I'm getting out of here!" He said. "I'm getting out and I'm never coming back!" He sounded, confidently as he started the engine to the truck.

    The truck coughed, and wheezed sputter out a black cloud before it roared to life. Rusty took a deep breath; drove out of the garage, and drove away. Never once did he ever look back.