A White Rose (Pt. 3)

(This story is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)

Continued from here

@sparrowsage

CW: Child whumpee (this is the last time, promise), child abuse, it as a pronoun, dehumanization

“This is my son, Nicholas.” Master Wilson introduced Shea to a boy a couple of years older than him. “He’s ten. Nicholas, this is Shea. He’ll be joining us at the house.”

“Whatis he?” Nicholas asked.

Master Wilson laughed. “He’s part of the Winged. I’ve told you stories about them before, haven’t I? Anyway, they’re sort of almost people. They’re like exotic pets.”

“Does he talk..?”

“Yes he does, but he’s only six years old, so don’t expect too much.”

“Why are you sad?” Nicholas asked.

Shea realized he had been crying and blinked the tears out of his eyes. “O-oh… My…” He hesitated, then burst into tears. “I wanna go home!” He sobbed, crumpling to the ground. “I-I-I miss my mom— and my fr-friends— and I want A-Aubrey back!”

“Get up.”

Shea barely heard the command.

“I told you to get up.” Master Wilson pulled Shea back to his feet by his arm.“The sooner you put that behind you, the sooner you can start to readjust. Rule number one, I don’t ever want to hear about where you came from again. That includes Aubrey. Understood?”

“But—”

“Ever.”

Shea looked up at Master Wilson with tear-filled eyes.

“Stop crying. Dry your eyes. You’re fine.”

“I—”

“Rule number two, don’t talk back.”

Shea closed his mouth, trembling.

“You will answer to the best of your abilities when I or my son speak to you. Otherwise, you are to remain silent. Your purpose is one of beauty.” Master Wilson ran a hand over Shea’s left wing, making the boy shiver. “You are to be seen only, not heard. Do I make myself clear?”

“But—”

Master Wilson slapped Shea across the face. It stung— although not as much as when Thorne had hit him.

“Seen. Not heard. No talking back. No buts.” Master Wilson repeated.

Shea sniffled. “O-okay…”

Master Wilson’s expression softened. “Good boy.”