by J. J. Egosi
“You may live under this roof, but you'll never be one of us, you light-loving piece of shit!” She brought her foot down on Michael's stomach. His eyes widened, and he started spewing blood from his mouth. He couldn’t help but yell from the pain.
“It was your choice to adopt a child from the Light Realm, not mine. And it’s…not my fault you have a problem with that. It’s…yours.” Even as he gasped for breath, Michael couldn’t help his small rebellion in the face of her resentment towards him.
“What did you just fucking say to me?” Isabella hurled her fist into Michael’s chest. She struck him so hard that he felt like his eyes would pop out of his skull.
“Your insufferable piece of shit. That snow-white hair makes me want to puke just looking at it. And those eyes? Disgusting! Why my family would choose to adopt a child from the enemy lands of the Light Realm, I’ll never know,” Isabella shouted while she looked disdainfully down at his bloody and aching body.
Michael looked up with a panicked expression as Isabella’s grin grew. Those eyes. Something about them seems off. It was as if her contempt was serving as a facade to bury something she had to ignore. What exactly is she feeling? Angry or something else?
Isabella noticed how carefully he was examining her. She grunted with derision.
“What the hell are you looking at?”
She spat on his face, then grabbed him by the neck, lifted his head off the ground, and slammed it back into the floor as hard as she could. She concluded her merciless beating by kicking him in the groin, leaving him coughing and covered in his own blood.
“What…are you saying?” Michael stared fearfully now into her ever blistering eyes.
“I’m saying you’re done here.”
“Done…” Michael’s lip began to quiver.
“Yes. Now, leave,” she said. There wasn’t an ounce of compassion in her voice.
“You’re just giving up on me? After so many years?”
“That’s right.”
“But we’re family. You’re the only people who have ever taken me in.” Michael’s words hurt him dearly. He could vaguely remember a time many years ago, living in this household, when things weren’t so bad. The memories brought him happiness. They reminded him of a simpler time, but they also brought him pain.
What the hell was that?!
Michael felt a lightning bolt across the mind that he couldn’t ignore. It was as though something was trying to take over him.
Michael breathed heavily. He covered the right side of his face with one hand as if he could physically grapple with the sudden and overwhelming sensation.
Isabella paid little mind to him or his feelings. Her only focus was on removing him from her home. “As of this moment, you’re without a family,” she said. “Go find another household to disappoint. Darkness knows we’ve done enough charity here. Get out!”
There was the slightest glint of sadness in her eyes as she attempted to exile her adoptive brother. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to see beyond the painful words she spoke. Michael did as he’d been instructed and slowly walked off the estate. Only after passing through the estate’s blackened, jewel-studded gates did he begin to regret his submissive behavior.
How could I have walked out of there so easily? Michael hopelessly wondered as he walked down the winding dirt road leading from his former home to the nearest village.
And after living with that family all those years, they just throw me out?! Ungrateful aristocratic pricks, how could they? Michael’s face grew redder with each step.
It was a poorly lit road, especially at this ungodly hour. Unable to see very much, he became lost in his mind, watching the memories of the old days play out. He remembered himself and Isabella smiling at one another and laughing in the backyard of their estate. Eventually, only the tragedy of tonight shone its dark light upon his heart.
The jolt of pain returned, but Michael paid no mind to it. He was too angry. He clenched his fists, trying to make sense of what had happened. What had changed? Why?
As darkness fell, he tripped over a log that had fallen across the road and landed on his side. Still bearing many injuries, his screams of pain were drowned out only by his tears.
Michael looked down at the cut from his fall, as well as all the wounds inflicted by his sister.
“I can’t believe that Isabella…”
He took a deep breath. Michael recounted memories of him and Isabella playing in the backyard when they were children. Isabella had fallen from her swing and had scraped her right knee just as he had now done; Michael had reached out his hand to help her up. He could remember exactly what she had told him that day.
“Go away! Boys have germs.” She’d then thrown a tiny pebble at his forehead as hard as she could before dusting off her small, black dress.
“Leave me alone!” she’d cried. His younger self had only looked back in confusion before smiling and laughing. The memory made him laugh again.
What a simple time it was to be disliked simply for not being hygienic.
His laughter caused a growing pain across his lower body, reminding him of just how much harm that same little girl had brought him tonight. He bit back everything he could, both the wounds of the night and the memories of times long since gone.
How did she end up like this? The memories of her that day, fifteen years ago, crossed his mind blurred with images of her now. The little girl in the short, black dress had grown up into a terrifying woman. Now her eyes were full of nothing but ambitions of ruling over her family’s estate and showing her hatred towards Michael.
As he dwelled on these thoughts, the pain returned, stronger than before. But again, he was too focused on trying to understand Isabella to show interest in the possible onset of a concussion.
How could this have happened? How could such a cute little girl grow up to become such a monster? Michael dusted himself off and took a deep breath. He stared back in the direction of the estate with resolve in his eyes. I need to go back. I need to find out why- The look on her face and the hurt in her voice. I’ve heard it before. I remember now.
He recalled that sad glimmer in her eye with a confident nod. The girl I knew is still in there, and for some reason, I felt her calling out to me. The echoes of her adolescent voice rang through his mind, screaming out to him through the vessel of her current self.
His heart skipped a beat. He clenched his fists. I need to get my little sister back. I want to know, why now? Why did they choose to throw me out now of all times? They’ve had fifteen years to do so…but they…no, she chose tonight. Something about this just isn’t right. And I need to find out what that is! He began limping as quickly as he could back towards the home from which he was just exiled.
As he approached his old home, Michael was taken aback by the six horse-drawn chariots gathered outside the property. He glimpsed what appeared to be a local official stepping down from one of the chariots. The man was followed by many more.
The sight of many officials surrounding the estate had Michael suspicious. He walked towards the gate to see what was happening for himself.
As he grew near, one of the officials approached him. He was a tall man in a black uniform. His stare turned disdainful when he was met with Michael’s white hair.
“You can't go in there. There's a domestic disturbance taking place.”
“What sort of domestic disturbance?” Michael asked. His mind raced with questions.
“We think someone’s on the brink of death,” replied the official.
Michael froze. Fear enveloped his being.
“…What did you say?” All Michael could think about now was the little girl he played with as a child, from their games of hide-and-seek through the house, to the meals they shared, and their days spent giggling together in the backyard. He hoped more than anything else that she was alright.
A scream came from inside the home - a woman’s scream. Michael’s heart sank at the sound of it.
Michael looked at the many officials surrounding him. They all wore nonchalant expressions. Smiling. Speaking amongst themselves. They appeared more interested in their cigar smoke than in coming to the aid of a citizen.
“Aren’t you guys going to do anything? Someone’s in danger!” Michael pleaded.
The officials looked at him and scoffed.
“We don’t take orders from the likes of you,” one of them said.
“But she could be dying!” Michael shouted. “You’re this town’s royal forces. You’re supposed to be protecting people!”
“Not on our night off, we aren’t,” the official interjected.
Michael looked back at him with an agitated glare. His paltry excuse disenchanted him.
“We don’t get paid overtime for house calls, you know,” the official continued.
“The only reason we’re even here is because our boss ordered us to be,” said another.
“So long as we don’t see any dead bodies, it’s not our problem,” a third added, with a callous smile that burned into Michael. He watched them all chuckle amongst themselves in merriment.
Michael clenched his fists. His blood boiled. He was unable to hold back his anger for much longer. The sharp pain in his mind heightened. These officials are just letting it happen, standing around with their thumbs up their asses.
The sound of screams and large objects clattering across the tiled floors echoed around the estate’s entrance. The officials simply stood by, paying no attention to the disruption taking place inside. The official Michael had spoken to looked over at him. He closely examined Michael’s eyes and recognized them.
“Those blue eyes…” the official said, staring into them now. “You’re the servant, aren’t you? Look, if you don’t get out of here now, I’ll have you arrested. Hells know what would happen to a light-lover in one of our prisons.”
There these people go again. He watched a grin curl across the official’s face. Bitching about my appearance? What’s wrong with everyone? How can an outsider disgust everyone this much? Does this town not know anything about empathy? Or will they just use any excuse they can find to act like pigs?
He said it himself, she’s on the brink of death. My sister. He knows that, but he doesn’t care. No one in this fucking town cares about anything but stuffing their pockets. It’s disgusting!
Their continued refusal to take charge had his heart racing with fury. He gritted his teeth. He felt as though he might explode.
The jolt was knelt deep into his mind once more. This time, it took hold.
I suppose I must be the one to make things right. Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His face lost its color, and his hair darkened, fading into a bleak shade of gray. A chill enveloped the air. A strangely familiar feeling of gloom and emptiness returned to him, one that carried a great deal of power. And magic.
Michael grinned at the official. His eyes spoke of malice. Michael reached up and twisted through the gate of the estate with his bare hands.
At the sound of the metal gate creaking back, the official looked back at him. “Hey, I thought I told you to get out. Would you rather get locked up?” the official asked.
Without any hesitation, Michael summoned a dagger from thin air. It was sharp, serrated, and glistened with shadows. Without Michael laying a finger upon it, the blade soared through the air and slit the official’s throat.
“Did you see that?” one of the officials who had been preoccupied with small talk asked.
“That was black magic,” his partner timidly whispered.
Many of the other officials now murmured amongst themselves. They questioned whether they had seen the forbidden arcane craft. At the hand of a light-lover no less. Someone from the opposite realm, where no such magic could ever find its place.
Michael listened to the growing whispers of fear. The blood of his victim was splattered across his face.
“Sorry. I guess I’m a little hard of hearing. Did you say something?” He chuckled, watching as the life bled from the official. Michael continued past the corpse, returning to his original plan of investigating the estate. He didn’t get far before the other twelve officials gathered around him.
“Can I help you boys with something?” Michael’s voice betrayed nothing but disinterest.
The head official stepped forward. He was adorned with badges and ribbons on both sleeve and shoulder of his uniform. Each dark shade of red adorned on their shoulders was a slap in the face to those they refused to protect. And Michael took a personal offense. Seeing nothing to be revered in cowardice. “I’m the captain here. Killing one of my men is a great enough offense to land you a lifetime in prison if you're lucky! Cooperate now or we'll kill you where your light-loving ass stands!”
He and the other officials all had their swords pointed towards Michael's face. And yet, Michael wasn't phased in the slightest. He simply smirked while dusting off his black trench coat.
“Oh, I see,” Michael replied. “You’re impressed by my work. I had no idea you were such big fans! If you wanted my autograph, you should have just asked. Or better yet, how about we make this an open signing?”
The cadence with which he spoke was sinister. It was like the outspoken light-lover who’d stood there before had left, leaving an ominous presence in his wake. The officials looked around nervously.
“This kid seems pretty dangerous,” said one of the officials.
“Maybe we should just let him go with a warning?”
“Come on. I’m feeling generous, and I’d hate to disappoint such an adoring audience!” Michael taunted.
The head official gave him a defiant stare. He refused to let his taunting words get the best of him or his team.
“You men are all speaking nonsense,” he refuted.
“But, sir-”
“This is a golden opportunity to reach our monthly quota two weeks early. I don’t think so,” the head official scoffed.
The thought of collecting a large payment by slaying a potential threat to the Dark Realm practically had them salivating.
“Yeah, this kid’s going down,” an official confidently said. The others smiled with the same level of fervor.
“Very well,” said Michael, with a dark shade of contempt in his eyes. “But just know, you asked for this when you ignored her screams.”
They were helpless as Michael violently slaughtered them all with his lone dagger. Each one died a more gruesome death than the last. He slit their throats, tore open their chests, and lobotomized them with the blistering touch of his newfound darkness. Some tried to evade his blade, but he was too fast. Michael laughed maniacally. He painted his trench coat in a fresh coat of red. In minutes, the officials were reduced to bloody pieces of flesh lying across the estate’s vast entrance. Even the horses shared the same fate as their former masters and were smattered and spilled across the ground.
He looked around at the mess he had made and smiled. “I sure do have the best fans.” He trudged through the blood and dead bodies before entering his old home.
Michael calmly walked through the house. He exploded every vacant room with nothing more than a snap of his fingers as if freely demonstrating the wrath that now coursed through his fingertips.
“I never did care for such lavish homes or the aristocratic fossils who dwell here.” He let out an especially devastating blow to the living room. Everything inside was charred to oblivion. The sight of its destruction brought a smile of relief to his face.
He sent much of the estate into a frenzy of black flames. The stench of burning wood and smoke filled the air.
Michael walked around with a sense of smug satisfaction after destroying half of the rooms on the first floor. “Now that I’ve let off a little steam, I think it’s time to see what sort of trouble my little sister has found herself in.”
His face grew pensive as he walked down the remainder of the hall. Michael was examining each vacant
room when he heard a scream.
The cries were familiar to him in an instant. “Isabella…” Terror filled his racing heart. He moved quickly down the hall, following the sounds of heavy breathing.
He stormed until he reached the room that had been the source of the scream. It was the same room that Isabella had beaten him in only hours before. However, it appeared that the tables had turned.
“How dare you turn down another one of the men we had picked out for you!” Alric said as he slapped Isabella across the face.
“Hit me all you want,” she whimpered. "I refuse to be sold off like some piece of meat.”
Made livid by her refusal, Alric punched her in the face so hard that she fell to the floor. He was all too familiar with the ringing that would be overwhelming her ears as she laid there.
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Betsy added. “We have a business to build. As a young woman with demon blood, our family can make a fortune selling you to the right client.”
Did she say demon blood? He hid behind the wall outside of the room. Michael stopped to listen before intervening.
“Please stop! I just want to live a normal life,” she pleaded.
“I don't need the heir to our estate whoring around with whoever she wants. You’ll marry the next man we pick for you, and you’ll like it!”
“But, I-”
Before Isabella couldn’t finish, her father kicked her in the stomach, leaving her unable to speak.
From what Michael could see, she had already suffered a severe beating. Her arms and legs were covered in scrapes and bruises; her face was swollen from her father’s abuse. There were also purple and blue handprints around her neck. To see her beaten and crying was repugnant, but to know her own parents had strangled her proved too much for Michael. He’d seen enough.
Just as Alric was about to strike Isabella again, Michael entered the room. He looked directly into his father’s bestial eyes and grinned.
“I hope I'm not interrupting anything here. After all, I'd hate to be a burden.”
