Growing Pains (1/1)
Liam wasnât sure which one of them was shaking more: himself, or his little brother. Killian was barely able to stand on his own, his tiny and far too lanky body trembling and slick with sweat that dripped down to mix with the bloodstains on his tattered shirt. Thirty lashes. Gods. Liam wasnât sure how his little brother was still conscious, wasnât sure how he, himself, still had a tongue for all heâd bitten through it trying to keep silent. Heâd nearly failed with the first sound of the lash falling, nearly thrown caution to the wind and charged across the deck to tear the leather from the boatswainâs hand the first time Killianâs tortured eyes had turned to his big brother for help.
But he couldnât. He couldnât help his brother, he couldnât help anyone. Not with their servitude hanging over their heads. Not with no resources, nowhere to run, and no one to help them.
Liam wasnât old enough for this.
Neither was Killian, taking a manâs punishment when he hadnât even sprouted his first whisker. By rights, he should have been bent over a canon and caned - small favors â but Silver had never catered to the rights of slaves. Why should he bother when, if Killian couldnât survive the punishment, Silver could just buy another whelp?
Liam hadnât realized that heâd stopped moving them forward, across the deck and past the jeers of the rest of the crew. He was staring â glaring, seething, fuming â at the grate where Killian had just been tied and beaten.
âCome on, little brother,â Liam said instead of answering the unspoken question. âLetâs get you down below.â
âJones!â Silver bellowed from where he stood behind the shipâs wheel. âDonât take too long or Iâll have you both punished for shirking your duties. Wouldnât want little brother writhing against the grate again too soon, would we?â
Iâm going to kill you one day, Liam thought hotly with a barely concealed sneer on his face. And Iâm going to enjoy every minute of it.
He thought all of it, but he only answered with a reluctantly respectful, âYes sir.â
Killian shook more violently as Liam leaned down to open the hatch, his small fingers clutching his big brotherâs shirt at the lack of contact between them for that instant. A panicked whimper floated on the stale air when theyâd managed to get down the ladder towards what passed for their quarters.
âI know, little brother. Iâll get a light lit as soon as I can,â he soothed, resisting the urge to just pick Killian up and carry him. It would be too much for his little brotherâs back, for one thing. And heâd heard the taunts and sly comments from the rest of the crew all too often. He didnât care what the bastards thought of the brothers, but Killian did. Heâd bristled every time one of them had called him a baby, told him that he needed to let Liam cut the apron strings. Killianâs temper was going to get one of them killed on this ship if he couldnât rein it in.
Liam couldnât â wouldnât â step back from protecting his brother, not ever, but he could take a baby step to the side and let Killian walk on his own two feet.
It took forever, but he finally got them to the corner of the hold they called their own, lowering Killian down to lay on his belly on the old grain sacks that passed for bedding. Killian whimpered again, his hands balling into fists around the rough material under his head as his body arched in pain.
âIâm just going to get some supplies, little brother. Iâll be right-â
Liam stopped abruptly when Killianâs hand shot out to wrap around his wrist, the pads of his fingers indenting Liamâs skin so hard it would likely bruise.
âNo!â Killian hissed pathetically, his voice choked with the tears that hadnât stopped falling since the lash had ceased. âPlease!â
Gods, what was he supposed to do when his little brother sounded like that?
Liam knelt fully by Killianâs head, bent over the boyâs head and stroking his sweaty hair back from his forehead. âItâs all right, Killian,â he tried to soothe, knowing he was lying through his teeth. This wasnât all right. Seeing his brother in this much pain would never be all right.
Killian, it seemed, knew it, too. He shook his head pitifully, biting back a cry when the movement pulled on the lacerations and welts on his back. Liam pushed down lightly on the back of Killianâs head, just enough to remind him to be still. Not enough to hurt â heâd already done enough to hurt his brother by not being enough to their bastard of a father to keep him from selling them for a blasted rowboat.
If only he could have been more useful â maybe they wouldnât be here now.
Maybe Killian wouldnât be ignoring the reminder not to move, trying to crawl forward so he could lay his head in Liamâs lap and wrap his spindly arms around his brotherâs waist.
âIâm right here, little brother,â Liam promised, tamping down the anger that still boiled whenever he thought of Brennan lest Killian think that fury was directed at him.
Killian nodded shakily, his breath hitching every time he inhaled.
Silently sobbing into his brotherâs shirt.
Gods, the light peeking through the slats above them wasnât enough to light the hold, but it was enough for Liam to see the angry marks on Killianâs back. They had to be cleaned. He had to keep his brother from falling ill on top of being injured.
Silver would only turn a blind eye to Killianâs absence on deck for so long.
âKillian. I need to go and find oil for the lamp and-â
Killian interrupted him with a sharp shake of his head.
âIâll be right back, I promise.â Liam ignored the way his heart broke at the panicked cry when he eased Killianâs arms from around his waist and managed to stand. âI promise, little brother.â
It wasnât the first promise heâd break, and it sure as hell wouldnât be the last one.
By the time Liam got back to the hold, finally free of the tasks Silver had required of him, Killian was sitting up on the grain sacks and pulling a fresh shirt over his back. The lacerations had scabbed over and the bruises stood out in stark contrast against his pale skin. The flicker of the lantern was enough to see that Killianâs hair was still sweaty, his face pinched in pain as he reached up to drop the rough cloth over his head.
âI wonât let it happen ever again. I swear,â Liam vowed in a hiss, vehemently promising himself as well as his brother that theyâd not suffer through this again. It was his job to protect Killian. It was the last thing heâd promised their mother.
But Killian just looked up at him with a sense of resignation in his eyes that no one his age should possess. âYou canât swear that,â he said, matter-of-factly, with no hint of remorse or condemnation. It just⊠was the way of things now.
To the Underworld with that, Liam thought to himself. It was his job to look out for Killian, and no one was going to get in his way.
âI mean it!â The words slipped out unbidden, begging his little brother to trust him again. To believe him. To feel some small modicum of safety in a world where there was little to give.
Killian just smiled sadly, a funny little quirk to his eyebrow that Liam would come to know as his brother.