Deacon woke up to the smell of flapjacks and fresh chocolate syrup, flooding into his nostrils. As his eyes stirred awake, it was as if the memories of the last few moments, hell, even the last fourteen years, washed away from his mind, and nothing but a ravenous hunger remained. His mouth watered before his eyes had even fully adjusted to the sunlight. As he finally opened his eyes, he saw he was in a cabin, laying on his small bed. Deacon yawned loudly as he stretched his body.
"You awake, sweety?" a familiar voice called out that filled Deacon's heart like a balloon.
Deacon rushed out of bed and ran over to the kitchen where his lovely mother was flipping flapjacks into a pan. She was a slim woman with dark bronze skin, and freckles littering her face. She had her long dark hair tied up in a ponytail that swished with her cooking motions. She looked over at him and gave Deacon a warm smile.
"Mommy!" Deacon said in a high pitched squeal as he rushed to give his mother a big hug.
"Oh, what's gotten into you?" She asked cheerfully, as she picked the four year old Deacon off the ground and held him in an embrace.
Deacon broke from the hug and held his mother's face in his tiny hands. "Nothin' I just missed ya, is all." Deacon said casually. Even though he knew he had just seen her yesterday before going to bed, he felt like it had been years since he last spoke to her.
Deacon took this moment to study his mother's face like he always did. She was very beautiful and sometimes, Deacon could see his own face in hers, which he always found amusing. Upon further inspection, he noticed a large black and blue blemish on his mother's otherwise flawless face, that she clearly tried to cover up with makeup.
"Go sit down, dear." His Mother said, trying to distract him away from her bruise. "I made your favorite. Chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate syrup."
"Oh yum!" Deacon said in a half cheerful voice. He knew exactly what happened to his mother's face. He had heard it the night before while he was trying to sleep. He had tried to intervene that night but his door was locked from the outside, something he was very much used to whenever his father would put him on punishment.
As Deacon and his mother tried to move on to a more cheerful mood, their hopes were dashed entirely when the front door slammed open.
Immediately a sense of dread filled Deacon's stomach like a pit, and he lost his appetite. He gave a careful eye to his father and kept forcing food down his mouth, trying not to make any face that would set his father off.
"Where the fuck is my food, Sonja." Deacon's father said angrily as he dragged a chair and slumped down on it. He then lifted his arm and slammed a large bottle of whiskey on the table.
Deacon recognized the smell, and slurring of his father's words as signs of danger. Whenever his father smelled like this, it was a clear sign for him to stay out of his father's way. Deacon would've forced the food down his stomach faster if it wasn't twisted in fear.
"It's right here, Henry." Deacon's mother said hurriedly as she placed a plate of flapjacks down in front of her husband.
Henry Wynter took a fork to his food and cut a piece and put it to his mouth. He paused momentarily before spitting the flapjacks out of his mouth and throwing the plate violently against the wall.
"It's fucking cold. What makes you think I'd want to have cold breakfast?" he yelled as he got up from his seat and got in her face.
"I'm sorry. I tried calling you earlier, but you must not have heard me." Sonja said in a high pitched voice, trying to sound as submissive as possible.
"Oh, so it's my fault now, bitch?"
Deacon instinctively covered his ears when they started fighting, like his mother taught him to. Sonja looked over at her son and then back to Henry.
"Not here." She said, this time more assertively. "Not in front of Deacon."
"I don't give a shit about him." Henry said as he reeled his hand back and struck Sonja across the face with the back of his hand.
Deacon's mother stumbled back from the hit and her hand slipped into the stove's flames. She cried out in pain as she stumbled to the floor.
"Stop being fucking dramatic." Henry said as he stood over her. "I barely touched you."
"Stop!" Deacon yelled, unable to bear any of this anymore. He rushed over to his mother and spread his arms out in front of her, blocking his father from getting any closer.
"Deacon! No! Go to your room! Right now!" Sonja ordered as she tried to get up, but her burnt hand was preventing her from pulling herself to her feet.
"No!" Deacon protested. "I'm not going to let him hit you anymore!" Deacon said. His lips quivered in fear as he stood up to his father.
"Oh, you must think you're a man now, huh?" Henry said as he slowly walked towards Deacon.
"Henry, enough. This is between you and me." Sonja cried out.
"No. He wants to act like a man." Henry said as he balled his hand into a fist. "Then I'll treat him like a man."
Deacon could only freeze in fear as he saw his father reel his fist back and punch the four year old so hard, his face hit the ground immediately.
"Deacon!" his mother screamed out as she rushed to push Henry away.
The drunken man easily tossed her to the side, and then lifted Deacon by his shirt.
"Let this be a lesson to you. If you step up to a man, you better be prepared to fight like one." To help hammer this lesson in, Henry began wailing on his son. Punching him in his stomach and ribs multiple times until Deacon was coughing up blood. Then Henry tossed him outside and slammed the door behind him, all while his mother screamed helplessly. Her screams only stopped when he heard a loud slamming sound from inside the house.
"Shut up!" Deacon could hear his father scream at his mother.
"Mommy." Deacon cried out weakly, as his consciousness began to slip. "I'll save you."
Deacon woke up several hours later in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. His house was already far removed from civilization, but it seemed that at some point, Deacon's father must've grabbed his unconscious body and dumped him in the nearby forest. Deacon tried to get up, but he could feel his ribs were broken, and he coughed up blood with every movement. The pain was unbearable and he fought to keep conscious. As he looked around him he saw there was a fox staring at him. Seemingly waiting for him to die.
"Git!" Deacon strained. "Git outta here!"
The commotion was enough to scare the fox off and it scampered away. Deacon then turned around on his belly and began crawling through the forest. Hoping to find some way back home.
Several more hours of agonizing crawling ensued. Deacon felt like his ribs were tearing into his organs with every movement of his body, but he had to keep going. He had to save his mother. She was probably worried sick about him. Eventually he managed to recognize the forest surroundings, since he often played by himself here whenever it was nice out. This only fueled his determination to keep going as he crawled his way back home.
After some time, Deacon was beginning to feel weak. The pain of his wounds was catching up to him, and he needed to eat something. His rumbling stomach was even starting to overpower the pain from his broken bones. He looked around for any kind of wild berries or sustenance, but he found nothing but grass, leaves, and vultures staring at him in the trees.
"Sorry birdies." Deacon said as he persevered on. "But I can't die yet."
Eventually Deacon made it back home. He just had to cross the large field that stretched across their land. This is where Deacon's father spent most of his time. Toiling away, trying to yield crops from a singular large mushroom that was planted in the middle of the field. Deacon never understood what the point of this mushroom was. Henry would gather the bunch of little mushrooms that sprouted from the larger one and then some strangers would come to the house and try to eat them. One time Deacon watched one of these instances, against his mother's wishes. Those that tried to eat the mushrooms spit out blood and keeled over instantly, then some men in trenchcoats would take them away. Deacon couldn't make sense of it, but he knew that this mushroom was part of the reason his father was angry all the time.
With his stomach grumbling and his wounds making him dizzy, Deacon knew he needed something to sustain him, and fast. Mustering up the final bit of strength he had left, Deacon crawled over to the large mushroom in the middle of the field, and began breaking off pieces of it, and shoving them into his mouth. The flavor was earthy, and the fleshy meat of the mushroom spit out a suffocating powder. Deacon could only try to chew faster and swallow harder to get the mushroom down. Finally as he swallowed the last piece, and his stomach settled, he had satisfied his hunger. Deacon's mother always warned him about eating from the mushroom, saying it was poisonous and dangerous, but right now he was so hungry, he didn't care about the consequences.
It was then that the real pain started. Deacon felt his whole body seize up in pain much worse than even his broken ribs and internal bleeding. This pain seeped into his very soul, so as he couldn't even scream from the agony. His mouth began to foam and it became hard for him to breathe. His nostrils and his throat closed up and he felt his eyes try to pop out of the back of his head. His whole body was under attack, and he could feel his body begging to shut down.
"No." Deacon barely managed to get out. "I… can't die. I refuse to die." He gargled. "I have to save…my…mom!"
Just when he thought he had survived the worst of it, his body began to pulse with more blinding pain. Deacon could only grit his teeth and close his eyes as he waited for either the pain to stop, or for his body to finally give up. Then, almost in an instant, Deacon felt his body become light as a feather. It was as if the pain in his body just disappeared.
"Am… I dead?" Deacon asked as he opened his eyes, his vision finally becoming clear. He lifted himself off the ground; there was no pain, his organs weren't being stabbed by his ribs anymore. It was as if the beating he took from his father had never happened. "I feel great!" Deacon said cheerfully as he lifted his arms up victoriously. He then looked over to his house, and knew what he had to do next.
Deacon squatted his knees and took a deep breath before leaning his head back. "PA!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.
Henry was halfway through another bottle, as was his nightly routine, when he hears his son's screams echo throughout the entire house.
"Deacon?" Sonja had been a depressed husk of a person after Henry came home without Deacon. He had told her coldly that the boy died of his wounds, and she had shut down once she heard the news. Now that she heard his voice, it was as if the color returned to her body. "My baby boy is alive?" She wanted to rush out to meet him when Henry pushed her to the side.
"How the hell?" The drunkard slurred as he tried to make sense of everything. It was then that he sobered completely when his eyes saw that the mushroom was gone.
"Get out here, Pa!" Deacon yelled with his fists balled up. "Come and face me!"
"You little shit?" Henry said as he marched out to meet his son. "What did you do to the mushroom?"
"Who cares about that! I won't let you lay another finger on Mom again!" Deacon threatened.
"You little shit. You think hiding the mushroom is gonna get you anywhere? Obviously, you didn't learn from the last beating I gave you." Henry rolled his sleeves up and threw a punch at Deacon.
Deacon quickly ducked under his father's fist and retaliated with a kick to Henry's shins that actually made him hop on one foot from the pain.
"Yowch you little shit!" he yelled angrily.
Deacon then threw a punch of his own, but his father easily caught the little fist, noticing however, that thew weight behind the punch seemed to be too strong for a boy his age.
"What did I tell you about stepping up to a man!" Henry said as he connected a heavy punch to his face that floored Deacon instantly.
"Deacon!" His mother cried out.
"I'm okay, mom!" Deacon said as he raised an arm and got back to his feet, surprising everyone, including Henry.
Deacon then shook his head violently before charging at his father a second time.
"Enough!" Henry yelled as he grabbed Deacon by the shirt and slammed him back onto the ground, head first.
Deacon laid lifelessly on the ground for a few seconds before his body twitched and he was right back on his feet, defiantly spitting out blood.
"Stop playing around, already. Now tell me. What did you do to the Mother's Cap?" Henry ordered.
Deacon just wiped the blood from his mouth and gave his father a mischievous grin. "I ate it."
"You what?" His father yelled angrily. "You idiot. Do you have any idea what you've done? You killed us all!"
"Shut up and fight me!" Deacon yelled as he rushed at his father one last time.
Henry angrily tackled his son and pinned him to the ground. "if I have to beat it out of you, then I will!"
Deacon's arms and legs being pinned left him no choice, he reeled back his head and slammed his forehead into Henry's nose, causing him to jerk back violently and hold his nose to prevent blood from gushing out.
Deacon took this chance to scramble to his feet. He gave his mother one last look. "I'll come back for you! I promise!" He said before retreating away, back into the forest.
Henry angrily charged back into the house, he ignored his wife and locked himself in the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Sonja could only stare into the forest that Deacon had disappeared into, wondering what exactly she had just witnessed.
As her husband recovered from his humiliation, Sonja took it upon herself to look for Deacon. She prepared a basket full of food and chocolate, and she ventured out into the forest. Sonja found Deacon in a makeshift camp. He was surrounded by foxes, squirrels, birds, and other woodland creatures that all stared at him as he ran around his camp doing various exercises. Pushups, situps, pullups, squats, and tree punching all seemed to be in the regiment as Deacon trained ceaselessly. When Sonja saw how hard he was working, her heart broke a little.
"Deacon." Sonja said to herself, but not quietly enough, as the many wild animals became startled from her presence and they all high-tailed it out of there.
"Ma!" Deacon said excitedly as he rushed to his mother and gave her a big hug. "What're you doing here? Did Pa hurt you again?"
Sonja gave Deacon a pained smile. "No Deacon, I came to bring you home."
"Huh? Did Pa apologize or something?"
"No, he doesn't know I'm here. It's just that I'm worried about you, son." As she talked, Deacon could notice her holding back tears. "I don't like seeing you get beat up. Even if you are defending me, I can't stand to see you get hurt."
She pulled Deacon into a hug and started inspecting his body for the wounds he had sustained, but his body seemed to be completely fine despite taking a beating from his father only a few hours ago. Minor cuts and bruises were the only evidence of a scuffle.
"So, please. Stop this. Come home. You're only four years old. You shouldn't be worrying about defending people, fighting, the world is supposed to be bright and full of wonders at this age."
"I don't understand." Deacon said as he tilted his head.
"Stop this pointless fighting and come home. Be a child again."
Deacon just put his head down. He loved his mother and respected her, whenever she told him to do something, she usually had a good reason and he would always listen, but today he had to disappoint her.
"No." He said bluntly. "Not until Pa apologizes and promises never to lay a finger on you again."
"Deacon," His mother changed her tone to be more assertive, something that usually worked on her son. "I'm telling you to come home. Right now."
"And I'm telling you, I won't." Deacon responded. "And you know why."
"Deacon, this is not a discussion." Now Sonja was raising her voice. Deacon had never disobeyed her before and she was starting to get frustrated. "I am your mother, and I am ordering you to come home now!"
"Not until I beat that bastard!" Deacon yelled angrily, matching his mother's tone.
Slap!
Sonja had heard enough backtalk. She struck Deacon across the face with her palm. "Don't you dare talk to your mother that way!" It was the first time she had ever lay a hand on her son, but she didn't know how else to get him to listen.
Deacon just silently held his hand to his cheek, rubbing the stinging hand print his mother left on his face.
"Now we are going home and we are going to be a family again! Do you understand me?" Sonja said as she fought back tears. "Now come on."
Sonja grabbed her son's hand and tried to pull him back home, but Deacon wouldn't move. It was as if he was anchored to the ground. Sonja tried pulling harder but he wouldn't budge. She even used both hands and pulled with all her might, but Deacon just stared at the ground defiantly. He wasn't pulling back, he wasn't resisting, he just wouldn't move an inch. It was then that Sonja realized she wasn't dealing with a normal four year old boy anymore.
"I'm sorry, Ma." Deacon said as tears began to fall from his eyes. "But I won't."
Sonja knew there was nothing she could do. Even if she could bring him back home, it was clear that there would never be peace. Sonja could only let go and collapse to the ground as she began to cry.
"Fine." She said as she wiped away her tears. She then handed over the basket of food and chocolate. "Then you better win."
Deacon just gave her a big toothy smile. "Don't worry Ma! I Will!"