Being Vladimir's son definitely wasnt easy, he'd be away most of the time on important 'business' trips and whenever he was back, it was constant arguing, hitting and screaming. Then he'd leave you to clean your own blood off the walls whilst he went out for a smoke or a drink, leaving little care for you back at home.

And at the school the treatment was just as bad, pretty much everyone knew you were Makarov's son and if they didnt they found out pretty quick. As a result of this you didnt have many friends, only a couple but they were fake and left without a real reason as to why. Eyes would follow you wherever you walked and it seemed like even the teachers feared you at some points all because of the last name "Makarov".

It was like a curse that followed you contanstly and no one would believe you when you say that your nothing like your father because why would they believe the son of a terriost? The constant loneliness and pain lead you to dark places.

You started to smoke and drunk- just like your father. You'd be out till the early hours of the morning getting no sleep before changing into a hoodie and joggers, hiding the skin beneath and making your way to school- despite your mental health decreasing at a drastic rate, you still tried to put all your effort into school wanting to get out of the town you've grown up in as soon as you could. Even if the outside world wont be any better.

Your father has been back at home for a week now and didnt show any signs of leaving so soon- meaning he must've nearly been caught by the taskforce or any other people after him and he had to hang low for a little while but that just meant the treatment at home grew worse and worse.

Bruises covering your entire body everyday and your father's digusted eyes looking down at you whilst you bled at his feet. There was no sympathy in his eyes though he was surprised when you no longer cried but he didnt have it in him to ask why you were no longer acting the same way you usually do.

It was a late night when Vladimir came home, clearly drunk and stumbling through the hallways. You were upstairs doing some homework, listening to 'Let down' by Radiohead- the lyrics fit your situation perfectly and the line. "One day I am going to grow wings.." gave you hope of a free future- no matter how distant or impossible it may seem to be.

But the sound of your door cracking open brought you out of your thoughts, turning round to see your father standing there, a stern look on his drunkened face and reality came crashing back down on you.. crushed like a bug on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Vladimir snapped, his voice cold and holding no sympathy for you- his own son..