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Murdoc always knew that something was different about him. Maybe it was the denial of the outside that clued him in. Maybe it was the way his father and brother looked at him. Or maybe, just looking down at his legs clued him in.
How they were covered in fur, the small fluffy tail, or even the hooves at the end of them. Maybe that was what made him different, other than the fluffy ears. Murdoc would notice how his father could wear certain clothes he couldn’t even attempt to wear. He did try to wear his father’s clothing once, he could manage the shirt just fine but the pants refused to cooperate with him. That idea stopped once his father found him though.
Murdoc could never understand why his father treated him so differently from his brother. Hannibal got to go on the hunting trip, Hannibal got to learn about the creatures, Hannibal got to do everything Murdoc couldn’t. But Murdoc was as stubborn as an cerrus, as his father would say, he would constantly follow his brother and father trying to understand. Though, he could never follow them out the front door.
He could peak through the window, only peak though, if he’d dare to fully open those curtains his father would get him like hunters got cryptids. So he would peak trying to get a good look at whatever was out there but soon the window became dull, people followed boring lives to an outsider looking in. Murdoc, tired of the dullness, found himself concentrated on pages upon pages of words tightly packed into leather covers then neatly tucked away into his father’s bookshelves. Every time his father and brother left the house, Murdoc would retreat into the reading room to learn about the outside through the inside.
He read stories of ships and sailors fighting against cryptids larger than Murdoc could even think of. Slowly changing his focus to books about cryptids from around the world he could never explore. Then a book about how to properly cook them though Murdoc felt his stomach turn reading it, switching to a book about sewing your own clothes. Oddly enough the pages seemed to be filled with bits of paper and some sentences had been underlined.
Slowly but surely every book that Murdoc could get his hands on, he read from front to back. Murdoc had learned the important lesson to never even mention learning how to read. Don’t fall asleep holding a book since you’ll wake up to it being slammed in your face was one he learned rather quickly. Instead he would pretend like he was practicing these traits because… He watched his father and Hannibal do it of course, why else would he know these things?
Those books were the closest thing Murdoc could get to the outside. If he even attempted anything else his father would surely find out and Murdoc wouldn’t want to entertain that thought. He had already been punished for his love of books, if he were to entertain his never ending curiosity it would surely be the end for him. Murdoc could only watch Hannibal and his father to learn more, though that usually didn’t work either.
The only other place of knowledge for the boy was his father’s dreaded study, a place that Hannibal seemed fearful of yet was a mystery to the younger boy. He knew that’s where father went after each hunting trip, Murdoc could hear sounds of what seemed to be wet, fur covered sponges being cut open and sewn to make a new. That only made Murdoc even more intruiged. No matter where he looked in this house he never knew anything about his mom, Hannibal knew plenty about his own mother but Murdoc didn’t even knew her name, let alone her face.
Murdoc felt like inside that room was the answer, the answer to everything. He just needed a plan…
~~
Murdoc sat in the kitchen staring at the stone wall ahead of him, an oddly focused look on his face. Hannibal walked in holding a pale of water not paying any mind until Murdoc snapped his attention towards him. Hannibal grimaced as he tried to ignore his little brother “Hey.” Hannibal grabbed the kettle. “Hey.” He dipped the kettle into the pale of water filling it up. “Hey.” Hannibal place the kettle on top of the stove and used a match to set the oven ablaze.
“Make me tea.” Hannibal stopped hearing those words but tried to ignore Murdoc’s existence again. “You heard me. I saw it.” Of course, the brat is as observant as ever “Make. Me. Tea.” Murdoc demanded and Hannibal had to take a second to process the audacity of his brother. “Why don’t you make it yourself?” Hannibal said more as a command than a question, it was something his dad would say to him whenever Hannibal needed something. “I don’t know how to. You never taught me. So make me it.” Hannibal just sighed and tried to go back to ignoring the brat.
“Make me tea! Make me it!” Murdoc stomped on the ground with his little hooves, Hannibal just turned his tantrum into white noise as he made sure the fire was going well. “I want tea! You never taught me how to make it! I want it! You and father always drink it!” Murdoc’s tantrum seemed to be getting worse though Hannibal probably didn’t help with “It’s Sebastian for you, not father.” That was not his nicest or brightest moment. A small whine from Murdoc quickly began turning into a high pitched cry, Hannibal quickly dropped everything he was doing and covered Murdoc’s mouth peering over to the hall where his dad’s study was.
“Fine! If I make you tea will you shut up?” Hannibal whisper yelled at his younger brother who still had a few tears in his eyes. “Teach. Me.” Murdoc demanded yet again his voice shaking a bit “Alright!” Hannibal picked Murdoc up and plopped him by the stove grabbing some tea leaves from the drawer placing them into the malter crushing them down as Murdoc watched. Murdoc followed Hannibal through each step slowly learning how the drink was made though, unknown to Hannibal, Murdoc already know how to make tea. He just needed an excuse.
~~
Murdoc tip toed closer to the daunting room holding a tray of tea. Murdoc nudged open the door with his hoof the creaking announcing his presence to his father across the way. A short stare of acknowledgment from him bathed his harsh red light was all Murdoc got before his father turned back around finishing his glass. Murdoc gulped continuing his stride in, the smell of cigeratte smoke was suffocating to the young lad and the stuffed mounts across the fireplace sent a chill up Murdoc’s spine.
The one in the middle, hands held together with a lost looking face, creeped him out the most. Murdoc carefully placed the tea tray on a table right across from his father’s chair. He fidgeted for a few seconds as his father looked at him with a hatred in his eyes “When did you learn how to make tea?” His father asked like he was interagating him “Hannibal.” Murdoc answered quickly before fidgeting again. After another few seconds Murdoc turned to see a picture of a lovely women sitting on the table as well. “Oh… Is… Is that my mum?” Murdoc squeaked out pointing at the photo “Never!” Sebastian slammed his hand onto the chair’s side table causing the empty glass cups of alcohol to slip off shattering on impact.
Murdoc’s ears wear pinned behind his head as he grippes the photo out of fear “That… Thing has no place here, and neither do you.” Sebastian stood up stumbling over to Murdoc who shook believing it was the end for him. Only to feel the photo being swiped from his paws as his father stared at it longingly before placing it on the side table and sitting back down.
“… I’m sorry-“
“Good. Somehow you’re not as stupid as your mother.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say that. I just said you’re not as stupid.”
Murdoc stared knowing another word relating to this topic would be useless. He knew he was calling him stupid, he just didn’t know how. Silence spread through the room.
“Your mother was a vile bitch.” Murdoc’s ears flipped up hearing his mother as he remained at full attention. “A stubborn Cerrus. Always watching. Just quick enough to dodge a bullet.” Sebastian explained pouring himself another drink. “It followed me. Followed until no one else could see. Then it pounced…” Sebastian gulped down his alcohol before he continued “And… It wanted me. God damn it… Why couldn’t it just fucking kill me…” He clunched his face barely holding back his emotions. “Then it left. For months. Like it never happened.” Sebastian looked back up glaring at Murdoc burning through the poor boy’s soul “Then…” His father’s voice shook.
“You.” Sebastian’s eyes were filled with rage making Murdoc shake in his metaphorical boots as he stood up. “It came back. With you. Came right in and dropped you on that table and started talking on and on in bloody gibberish.” Sebastian became face to face to Murdoc the stench of alcohol coming from his breath. “She was acting like we were a family. Like it was all water under the bridge… As soon as that bitch’s back was turned-“ Sebastian grabbed his unloaded rifle jamming it into Murdoc’s chest “Shot ‘er right in the chest! And she turned to me like I had betrayed her. She never understood, even in death.” Murdoc stared up at his father seeing the psychotic look in his eyes while Murdoc struggled to hold back tears. “All she could go on about was ‘love’ eugh… Like it was the only word that she knew.” Sebastian grinned holding his rifle away from Murdoc smiling up at his stuffed mounts.
“And she left me with you. You… Disgusting freak of nature…” Sebastian vile words of disgust slipped out straight into Murdoc ears who sniffled and hiccuped as tears ran down his cheeks not daring to lose his gaze off his father. “… Hmm… Are you satisfied now, brat? Or do you want to see your disgusting mother?” Sebastian pointed his rifle at the middle mount, her hands sewn shut together as if praying for forgiveness, her dead eyes now seemed like a cry for help. The freckles on her skin, the Cerrus ears, the horns, everything began weighing in on Murdoc as he sunk to the bottom of the ocean. He couldn’t take it anymore and Murdoc wailed, all self control inside of him lost as he pitifully hit Sebastian’s legs.
“You killed Mommy! You killed her!” Was all he could get out before his hair was ranked back and his father’s rifle was by Murdoc’s neck. “Oh no, your mommy killed me.”
