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“Go on and cry in your corner, make sure your mother hears. If she won’t choose a man to adorn her we’ll bring blood and tears”
Tears poured down the boys cheeks. Blood and snot plastered to his lip in a horrid mess. His nose was bent at an unnatural angel, his knees pulls to his chest which rose and fell quicker than usual.
Penelope knelt before her son, trying to coax the boy into her arms. He'd pressed his back to the wall and curled his bruised body in on itself, silent tears and snot pouring down his face. He was trying to be strong, his mother knew that.
But he shouldn't have to be strong in this state.
"Tell me what happened" She coaxed softly, "Please darling, I hate to see you hurt"
The boy scooted backwards. His face was marred. Penelope could see the blood already pooling from his injuries, dripping.
“Please” she begged softly, as if reasoning with a wild animal, “Show me”
Slowly, like a flower blossoming in spring, the boy began to unfurl his limbs, revealing his body. He’d been beaten badly, blood oozing. He was so cut up he looked more like a training dummy than a boy. His lips were bruised, his nose badly broken. I’d he wasn’t treated soon, surely he would die.
Hesitantly, she presses a hand to his skin. He winced.
“Oh my baby” she said, an ache filling her heart, “Who did this?”