IT was cold.

Cold like frosted winter glasses and ice cream pops; But not nearly as comforting or warming.

The ground was made of neatly steeled metal and bended around the edges to form a hand like or temple like figure.

A dungeon, but Teddy couldn’t know that. He had never known anything except pain and fear.

The painful trashing and whipping every Sunday, He never knew why they beat him. The dark ones said it was entertaining and fun. Fun was a strange word, Teddy didn’t understand it ether.

Tick.

The door knob slanged as it open and once again a pale figure slipped though.

He curled himself into a small ball, which wasn’t hard for a child of eight. He trembled slowly as the shadow approached and swigged slowly further into the cage.

To a normal child the figure would have seemed beautiful, mystic even, but to Teddy it was the grim. She held a cat o nine tails whip in hand and a bowl of plain rice the other.

“Wolf.”

Teddy could his own pleas for mercy, but only in his head. He knew that he did not turn she would attack him and leave (caring not that he might be dead.)

Of course, even if he did obey she would beat him. *Fun* 

Breathing back tears he struggles to uncurl himself.

“Wolf.”           There it was again.

The only thing Teddy really knew himself by.

It was the first word he learned. He dreamed of caring smiles and laughing sounds as groups welcomed him. A woman with hair that changed colors, and groups of red heads. Green eyes, and his grim. Though she wasn’t beating him or giggling as he was beaten. No, she was holding him tightly, as if a…“Wolf!”

This time demanding, the sound of that word shook though him. Sending pain shivers down his spine. Uncurling himself he walks toward the exit.

She raised the whip moments after he exits and stings him hard on the back. Blood seeped through his body as the thundering blow came.

Raged brief new lines and cuts showed on his skin, but the real pain came from wounds already inflicted. Teddy’s face and slender body hits the floor with a groan.

Even as he cries he could hear her catlike laughs. She dropped the rice head first on the floor and with one kick; Teddy landed bleeding heavier on the floor. Then she slammed the cage shut.“You should know by now, I don’t like being kept waiting.”

She laughed at him with a cruel smile, “especially not by the son of wolves.”

Then she walked out, dangling her silk dress behind her.Teddy didn’t cry, he shouldn’t.

He had experienced far worse than that beating. He was once trashed so badly, that the grim had to reluctantly send for a doctor.

Once she had pulled off him arms, so she could sow them back on. Teddy remembered how the needles tour though his flush, so hatefully.