Riy's Story

So my awesome friend wrote this. I absolutely loved this head cannon. She did a good job and I was really impressed. I asked her permission, and now I am posting this on my blog. From this point forward, these are her words. I didn't say who it was, if she wants I will add that later but I figured anonymity above fame. Sorry in advance, the formatting didn't want to work for me. Here goes:

He tugs the brown, threadbare blanket closer around his shoulders, his eyes squeeze shut as a warm ray of morning light touches his face. He hopes to get a few extra seconds of precious sleep. The sound of heavy boots on the thin wooden floor jolts him fully awake. 

            He winces as the end of a broomstick is jabbed in his ribs. A rough voice, sounding much like rocks grating together booms, causing him to instinctively curl up, knees close to his chest; “Riy! Get your lazy hide up off that floor!”

            Not wanting the next thing he’d fell to be a sharp kick in his side, he scrambles up, leaving the blanket in a small heap on the floor.            The man, Burr Caddail, wipes the side of his grizzled mouth with one hand. On his head rests a solid hat with a headlamp. A coalminer’s helmet. His eyes are bloodshot and bleary and his breath has a sickly sweet taint to it. He’s been drinking, that’s certain.            Burr slaps the broom into the Riy’s hand and unsteadily turns to go.            “What did you trade for it this time?” Riy questions softly to the retreating back of Burr’s jumpsuit. Burr turns back toward Riy, a large hand raised in a fist. “Are you defyin’ me boy? What right do you have to question my actions?” he thunders.            Riy flinches, turning his face away from the expected blow.            Burr stops suddenly, swaying slightly. He lowers his arm and stares at the floor. “Nothin’ much,” he mumbles then turns away. “Useless cripple…” he mutters under his breath, “good for nothin’”            “Be careful. In the mines.” Riy says.            Burr freezes, shoulders tense. Then he grunts and that door to the house slams shut.
            Riy steps backward against the wall, sliding down it into a sitting position, He clutches the broom tightly with his hand. The words stung but he knew they were true. That didn’t make it any easier. He swallows, a lump in his throat. He glances at his left arm; useless, paralyzed, hanging by his side. It had been that way since he’d been born.