Every time Arthur looked at you he felt a mix of pity and disgust. He thought you as fragile and sensitive. Traits fit for an artist or poet not an outlaw. It’s time that ought to change, sure you were young yet it’s better if you got dirt on your pretty soft hands of yours earlier, be better that way.

One day you were lead into the forest by Arthur, he said he wanted to teach you something. You thought it was something boring or normal like cleaning a gun or something. Yet why would you have to go into the forest?

“We’re here” Arthur grumbled stopping in his tracks, a tarp at his feet. Before you could speak Arthur lifted the tarp revealing an unconscious man gaged and bound.

“A-Arthur…? What is this?” You gasped taking a step back. Arthur grunted putting a possessive grip on your shoulder to keep your body still. Arthur handed you his hunting knife, it was big and heavy with beautiful engravings that have tasted blood.

“Kill him.” Arthur said matter a fact. As if he was asking for the most normal thing in the world. You went pale. Arthur kicked the man awake. “You’re getting soft kid, better this way” He growled. You protested showing sympathy for the tied up stranger.

“Maybe you are pathetic, but I know you ain’t kid.” Arthur growled, lighting a cigarette as he walks behind you. “You seem like the type to be victimized, the type to be used and beaten, and pitted like starving mutt.” Arthur said taking a drag as he puts callus hand on your neck. “You could changed that forever, or just stay a pathetic victim. Your choice sweet pea.” He said mockingly to rile you up.