Chapter Text
Tony tried not to scream in pain as Howard ripped him from the car by his arm. His severely hurt arm. Tony held back tears as best as he could, but after the beating and the car ride here, he just didn’t have it in him anymore.
“Look here, boy. We’re going in that hospital and you’re not going to say a damn word about anything. Got it.” Howard pushed Tony toward the emergency room entrance harshly as he spoke.
Tony wouldn’t have any issue with being quiet. He hadn’t spoken in over a year. Around the same time that he was classified as a Little and the beatings grew from bad to worse. Tony hadn’t thought it possible, but reality hit him like a brick in the face.
Tony has somehow managed to walk into the ER and took a seat by the door. Howard yanked down his ball cap and stormed on towards the reception desk. There were a few choice words flown around, some that made Tony cringe and others that made him want to punch Howard in the face.
Somehow, Howard’s screaming had managed to get Tony a wheel chair. He was pushed into one of the rooms and told to wait with Howard, but given no other instructions. So Tony waited, trying not to let his head lull into the sleep he so desperately wanted.
Howard was pacing the room, keeping his hat pulled down over his eyes. He looked like he was trying to make a plan, or asses a situation. That’s probably why Tony thought nothing of it until Howard was crouching in front of the chair, his face so close to Tony’s that the smell of alcohol from his mouth was easy to detect.
“You don’t tell them your name. You don’t tell them my name.” Howard said harshly and suddenly Tony was much more scared. “You are a disgrace on my name, and you will never be anything more than some stupid-ass Little. I can’t have that around anymore.”
Tony looked at Howard, fear coursing through his body. This wasn’t another beating. This was something else. This was entirely different because Tony knew the feeling of another beating.
“You aren’t worth the clothes on your back or the food you eat. No one will ever want you, but at least you won’t be my problem anymore.” And then, Howard was gone from the room.
Tony waited. And waited. And waited.
-.-.-.-
There were a lot of questions, also of tests, a lot of people, a lot of cameras checked, a lot of identification possibilities takes, but nothing would tell anyone who Howard was or, more importantly, who the Little that was abandoned in the ER was.
Psychologist were called, trying to make the Little talk and answer questions, but he refused. They said that it may be his headspace, that he may be too Little to speak. He didn’t seem to have a grasp on potty training yet, which made him younger that three, but there was no way to officially test unless he spoke.
Eventually, he was named a John Doe. The state had nothing to go by, and he hadn’t shown up on any record. At the top of the Manila folder was the name and Classification. A picture had been taken, his physical features marked including an estimated age, but nothing else. And then, he was placed in a home for Littles, and put up for adoption.