Princessoftheundead2

 A small boy hid in a thicket of thorns. He was curled upon himself, trying to make himself as small as possible, trying not to get torn to shreds by the thorns. Unwanted tears stained his cheeks as he remembered what had happened. His foster parents had beaten him again, worse than ever this time. He had done nothing wrong but they still had hurt him. His wrist, which he clutched tightly in his other hand, ached, flaring up with pain every time he tried to move it. He thought it was broken, but was too scared to tell his foster parents, they would just get mad again… "Are you okay?" a voice above him said. He let out a gasp of fear, follo