“Your mistakes, my back breaks”
I’m there to take your fall. I’m there when you can’t get hit.
I have no choice, you have no repercussions.
It’s not your body being bruised. The royal crest saves you.
I must be around.
Without me, your poor little heart might be broken if they lift a finger against you.
So instead they turned their anger, for you, upon my back, my face, my legs.
All of me is broken for you, and you care not.
How dare you think your pathetic scrap of skin is worth more than mine.
I can’t escape.
His eyes stare at me as the blows rain down. I shudder. The eyes are so empty for one of his age.
I realize he is the same age as me, but he seems… more hardened.
I feel a slight twinge, a bit of guilt. But it is shaken off as I look away.
That’s his function. No one can hit a member of the royal house.
I would have as much fun as I wished, there were no repercussions.
With a mocking grin shot at him as he huddles on the ground I whisper degradingly.
“You’re mine, whipping boy.”
this is really a frightening image of misused freedom. well written.
ReplyDeleteOh man, this is great! Glad you wrote from both viewpoints. Really chilling.
ReplyDeleteLove the two viewpoints.
ReplyDelete