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The tears that soaked Mary's clothes had long since dried. Nathaniel dared not cry again after her harsh pulls to his hair and hushed voice telling him to shut up before Nathan came back in the room. His right shoulder still burned from the hot iron, but he choked down his pain, focusing on Mary's fingers as they ran through his hair and the soft fabric of her pants that his small head rested on.
Nathaniel didn't know why his father had smacked him with the iron. The police often came around, trying to get evidence against Nathan. Nathaniel's job during those visits was to sit still and be quiet. He guessed he wasn't still enough for his father's liking, just like he didn't do well enough during his training with Lola the day before. Nathan reminded him the correct way to use knives, using Nathaniel's skin for the demonstration to make sure he didn't forget. Nathaniel opened his eyes and stared at the wall.
"What is it?" Mary asked. He didn't answer for a while, his mind staying on Nathan, on the pain he felt, on the events to cause said pain. He wondered if he thought too hard about why Nathan did the things he did. If the reason was always right in front of him. He could have been angry because of the police. It could have been he was worried his son would fail to take his place and live up to his expectations. It could have been he hated that Nathaniel looked so much like him, and maybe Nathan's father did this to him and he hated the reminder (he highly doubted that one though. Nathan always got a look of pleasure in his eyes and that grin on his face no matter who he was hurting). Maybe it was because he was getting frustrated with Mary and her son had the misfortune to be closer to Nathan.
No.
It was none of those.
Maybe it was Nathaniel's fault all along. If he had just stayed a little stiller, if he had just gotten the knife training right, if he were better at hiding to escape his father's rage, if he could beat his father when Nathan came at him, if he wasn't so scared-
Tears welled in his eyes again, and he refused to blink as he struggled to not let them fall. They did anyway, so he closed his eyes and focused on his mother's fingers again to stop any more from forming.
"Nothing. I'm fine," he replied.