Title: The Mess
Rating: R to be safe
Character/s: Merlin, Kanen
Summary: Their easy coexistence was apparently over, because there was a mess in the hallway just outside his room.
Warnings: Abuse; past minor character death; very (very very) vaguely implied: non-con, prostitution, underage.
Word Count: 415
Prompt: Amnesty Post (#61: Broken)
Author's Notes: Angst angst angst
Kanen woke in a foul mood, made worse by a pounding in his head and an ache running along his arms. He’d been having a great night: a private room on the second floor of the club, a crowd of men fighting each other to buy from him, a near endless supply of free drinks as they tried to win his favor.
Then his worthless brat of a stepson had ruined the whole evening.
When the kid’s mother, Kanen’s third wife, had died in that tragic and mysterious gardening accident, he’d thought he’d be free of him—off to live with a distant relative or some other soft-hearted fool who could stand him. Instead, he’d been saddled with guardianship for three years until the boy turned eighteen.
The first few months of just the two of them had been a bit rocky, but they’d come to an understanding and the next year and a half proved much less frustrating.
Their easy coexistence was apparently over, because there was a mess in the hallway just outside his room. It had been there when he went to sleep, and he was very put out to find it hadn’t been cleaned up yet. Left there for so long, it had probably stained the carpet.
Hollering for the boy to take care of it, he walked around the trash to the kitchen to find no coffee or breakfast waiting for him. Hardly surprising, given the lack of progress on the mess in the hall, but it certainly didn’t improve Kanen’s temper. He brewed himself some horribly weak coffee, burned a few eggs, and grimaced through both while watching some boring talk show and counting out last night’s profits. Not terrible, even with the interruption.
Good thing, too, since it would be a while before he could host another party.
On his way back to the room, he was furious to find the disaster looked like it had been dragged a few steps from where he first found it, complete with a trail of disgusting residue left in its path. He kicked at it, toppling the whole thing to the side, and scowled down at it.
“Get off your knees and clean up after yourself, Merlin,” he ordered the boy, who was stained red and swollen purple all over. “Or do you want it to get worse? You know I can do it.”
He slammed the door, trusting the mess would be out of his way when he came out again.