Author's Note: This chapter might be a bit heavy. I'm not sure how effective my writing is on describing trauma and angst, but oh well, just be aware I wrote some heavy things here, so please read with caution. This will grasp great part of Vahe's childhood and if you remember, it wasn't exactly a good one. There were a few things I chose to let implicit because I'm not able to write it, but I do think is quite understandable. While others I did describe a bit more, but again, I'm not sure how effective my writing is in portraying those things... This isn't a really happy chapter, I did cry writing it, but only because I relate to a few thoughts I wrote down... Anyway, read with a sane mind please :)
"Déjà vu, the feeling of having already experienced something, of familiarity and boredom. Life is a puzzle, composed of moments anew and those that repeat incessantly, the more you attempt to run from your mistakes, your past, the more you're doomed to replay them, in a never ending circle of a snake eating its own tail."
Steps echo across the empty hallways of the Temple of Darkness, the dark walls tell the story of the birth of the goddess, her creations and miracles, Lyor is already familiar with all of those stories, as not only was he obligated to know them by heart as a Saint, but he also was raised at the Temples, so it would be impossible not to know it.
He reaches the office of the Head Priest, he doesn't knock, only opening the door to find the two people he was wishing to speak with. Saurav De Luce and Cessair Draeger, the two Priests that raised him from when he was a baby until he reached adulthood, their eyes still shining with the same irreal light, their feelings clear: this person is our saviour.
Pure devouts, they never even considered the possibility that Lyor didn't want to be a saviour or even a ruler, all they did was train him incessantly to fulfil the role imposed to him.
''I greet the light of the Kingdom'', Saurav says, being the first to get up to greet the King, followed by Cessair.
''I greet the darkness of the Kingdom'', the man says, his dark eyes staring deeply into Lyor's, although they are simply human and half-dragon, they know more than most mortals do. As their gods share their wisdoms and grant them the same visions they give Lyor. Therefore the man is sure they all saw the same as he did, that's why they're looking at him as if he's committing the gravest of sins.
''There's no need for formalities'', Lyor says, taking a seat with the Priests. He serves himself to the same tea the two older men were having, he doesn't bother to look at them, he knows his actions are not those of a King, but the last bit of respect he still has for them prevents him from requesting them to serve him. ''I'm here to request 20 Paladins for my next conquest'', he says, taking a sip of the bitter tea. Fuck it tastes like medicine, he thinks, putting the cup down and cleaning his throat.
''Your majesty, we can't mobilize 20 Paladins right now'', Cessair is the first one to speak, his tone is formal and he stands straight, poised like he probably wished Lyor was right now.
''Why?''
''Because we're busy with the renovations of the Temple'', his words make the King snort.
''Renovations? With which money?'' He asks, ''Are you asking for donations again?'' He accuses, his tone becoming firmer and his eyes colder.
Saurav is the one that interrupts the conversion, ''If the devouts want to contribute to the Temple's operations is our duty to use it properly'', his words make Lyor laugh, they speak of duty as if they're not only blindly believing selfish gods and doing their bidding as puppets.
''The conquests are for the people'', Lyor says, calming down, as there is no use in losing his composure right now. ''Eradicating slavery, promoting a better well-being for those that we must take care of, this is our duty''.
''If you cared so much about your people you wouldn't marry that person!'' Cessair says, placing his teacup on the table suddenly, almost breaking it.
''You know nothing about him!'' Lyor answers, his tone way beyond what he intended. ''You believe fake prophecies and words, you never even attempted to see him!'' He shouts, getting up from the sofa exasperated. ''This is impossible, this is why I never wanted to be here, to be a King!'' He continues, frustrated, he can't scream at his parents that left him so all he has left is to vent his frustrations at those who he has closer to them. ''I should've ran away further…'' He mumbles.
His words seem to snap back Cessair, who takes a deep breath and backs off, the Priests only have one order given by their gods, to take care of Lyor as if he was their own children, to cherish him and put him in the throne so that the balance of the Morke Kingdom becomes natural once again. However what neither the Priests nor their gods ever predicted was the involvement of the King with that Prince.
However the methods they have been using to convince him that this marriage was a bad idea aren't working at all, and all they're doing is driving the King into the same downward spiral they did years ago when the boy was only 10 years old. Speaking of devoting his life to the gods and living a life of sacredhood, the consequence was that the boy ran away, returning only three years later after living on the streets for those years.
He returned with other children, saying he was going to entrust his life to them, speaking of defying the gods and making his own destiny. The Priests didn't know what to say or what to do, they managed to bring him back and his path into becoming the King was clearer than ever, but the boy was changed into something they could no longer shape or control.
The gods were furious, and the Priests were punished for their mistakes.
So right now all they can do is stand back, do as their gods instruct and when that doesn't work, just allow Lyor to get his way so that he doesn't disappear again.
Because a sanctified Kingdom with no Saint is a Kingdom lost.
They need Lyor way more than Lyor needs them.
''I can reconsider the Paladins if the Prince follows all of the bridal rites'' Saurav says, tapping his finger on the armrest of the sofa. Lyor sighs, turning to the Priests.
''You know very well I can't allow such a thing''.
''If he loves you as much as you claim he does, I'm sure he would be willing to do so for you'', Saurav retorts, his expression unmoving, he knows he can demand that at least.
Lyor ponders for a moment, weighing his options. Of course Nikias would accept all the rites, as he promised to do so when they did their agreement, however there's a step Lyor requested to leave off the rites, not because he thought Nikias couldn't do it. But because he finds it inhumane and a practice that makes the consort feel like less than the King.
The practice consists in stripping the consort, making them lay in a thin layer of blessed water and receive the prayer of the Priests in charge of the rites, the session lasts for sixteen hours and must be done when the consort is completely bare of impurities. Meaning that they must not eat, use cosmetics or even drink before the ritual, and must stay still during the whole session of prayers.
This has the goal of ''cleansing'' their soul of any sins.
However it's considered a practice of the past and the former King never put their wife in this situation. Lyor knows they're demanding this only so that he gives up or agrees so that Nikias can be humiliated when the gods refuse to cleanse his soul.
Either way it's a request designed for him to lose.
But Lyor isn't going to fall for it, neither will he give up nor will he accept this absurd proposition.
''How about, instead of all this, I just release a recruitment notice for this expedition telling the people how the Paladins are too busy with construction to aid their King?'' He says, sitting back down, ''You know, you enjoy using my name as a sign of a blessed land, so I wonder if the true devouts will like to find out how the Temple refuses to cooperate with my sanctified mission?'' His words are filled with sarcasm, of course he doesn't believe that his mission is blessed or that his existence should carry such weight, but if these men keep putting him in such a place, then he must use it against them as well.
Saurav flinches.
''If you were coming to request something and offer nothing in exchange, then why bother asking?'' Cessair says with a frown.
''Because I wanted to respect you'', Lyor says, ''It seems it was reckless of me to expect humanity out of those that follow who have none''. He shakes his head. ''I'll take my leave'', he says, turning away. ''Oh,'' he stops as he was about to open the door. ''And if when Nikias comes you disrespect him again in any way, I will remove the rites from the law and cut the funding you have been receiving from the Castle'', his words aren't empty threats, and the Priests know about it, as once he threatened to run away, and just a few months later he did just that.
♕
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…
Nikias keeps repeating those words inside his head as he attempts to breathe, to snap out of it, but what can he do? The imminent headache, and the memories that keep attempting to resurface are haunting him.
His day started simple, he did his morning run, his classes and a few meetings, including meeting Evangelia to request a collaboration on the mana smuggling case, and sure enough the woman reluctantly accepted, probably because it was Alkaios who requested her to do so.
There was nothing to trigger this reaction he's having right now, even their conversation was somewhat civil considering the circumstances. But there was maybe a reason for this, the meeting he had with his brother two nights ago, and the lunch he had alone with his father that day, the pressure in his chest he wasn't able to understand, and the headache he attempted to fight by running for an hour more.
So at this moment small flashes of his past as Vahe keeps popping inside his head, he can't ring the bell as he doesn't wish anyone to see him like that, sweating cold, insatiable breathing and a terrified expression on his face.
If possible he would've even blocked the door so no one could reach him inside his quarters, but he settled for locking the door. Requesting his knights to just go train today and sending Fleuri to deal with the construction in the building his new business will be. There's no one at the Palace that would attempt to search for him for at least a few hours until dinner time comes.
Even so he doesn't want to relive those memories, he doesn't want to accept them inside his brain, as they were erased for a reason, it was deliberate.
But even if his will is strong, the pain manages to knock him out, allowing for the memories to come in and flood his mind with unwanted recollections of his pained life.
❥
There are no birds singing or the sound of rustling leaves for those that live in Katrina City, the dense polluted air fills the lungs of those who struggle everyday to make ends meet. After so many wars the world finally managed to halve their population, the rich becoming supreme leaders of the poor, and those that can't even manage the luxury of being considered poor were sent to the City of Graves, as it is known by its citizens. There is nothing in that barren land that could be considered pretty or even worth looking at, that is if you don't count Vahe as part of that yellow city.
A child that was just as pretty as his mother, or at least that's what his father and brother always told him, drawing the eyes of those who walk past him and the attention of those he should never draw from. His beautiful hazel eyes always shining in different colors in different lights, the way his slightly wavy light brown hair made him look youthful and mischievous, his perfectly plump lips and round nose, Vahe was nothing but perfect.
But perfection has a cost that a child should never have to pay.
His mother died with an infection before the boy could even speak, and his father stricken by grief turned to alcohol to ease his pain, the duty of raising and caring for Vahe was passed to his older brother of four years, Zerah.
Although they were similar, and anyone could tell they're brothers, Zerah's appearance wasn't as similar to his mother's as Vahe's, no, he had the bad luck of being more similar to their father, light freckles painting his skin, light brown eyes and a more straight hair, even if most people said that it was a shame that the younger brother was the one with all the beauty, Vahe always found solace in Zerah's little constellations in his cheeks and shimmer in his eyes that remind him of the wheat plantation they once played at.
There was no matter on who was prettier, in Vahe's eyes Zerah was everything, his solace, his rolemodel, his moral compass, his protector and his one and only brother.
The first time their father hit Vahe was when the boy was six, he and Zerah had just returned from a wheat field nearby and were carrying a few leaves with them, laughing and playing around. The man had already displayed violent actions before, but none against the children themselves, but he slowly started drinking more and more, sometimes needing to be dragged inside the house by Zerah because he passed out in front of their small house's door.
That night is one of the first memories Vahe blocked from his brain.
It was all uncharacteristically silent, the streets near their house were empty but the boy didn't care, in his face was the brightest smile and his brother seemed to smile along just because Vahe's smile was so brilliant.
''Let's put these between books so that they dry up'', Zerah says, holding his brother's hand and opening the house's door. The first thing that hit them was the strong scent of alcohol, the darkness inside the home was stopping them from seeing the danger there. Zerah's eyes were cautious as he pushed his brother to be behind him as he stepped inside the place, the smile he had disappeared from his face.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that Zerah was only ten years old at that time, yet he promptly put himself in front of Vahe to protect the boy from any harm.
They entered the house slowly, the smell getting stronger with every step. ''Brother, what's wrong?'' The young Vahe asks.
''Where were you?'' A yell is heard, loud enough to make the whole house shake, at least in the perspective of the six-year-old. Strong steps followed by silence, in front of them was their father, with a half-empty bottle of cheap beer and his work clothes. The man spent his time working or drinking, there was no inbetween. Once Zerah told Vahe that before their mom died, their father was kind and hardworking and even smiled sometimes.
Vahe never saw the man smile, not even once.
''We were at the wheat field'', Zerah answers, his tone is docile and low, Vahe closes his eyes, his forehead resting on his brother's back, the scent of pollution that clings to their clothes is comforting.
The man stares down at the children, his eyes dark, his hands shake with anger before he yells again, ''Who said you could leave the house?'' His question is more directed at Vahe than Zerah, after all whenever the boy leaves the house he hears the comments, the people that crossed his path saying how lovely the child is, how similar he is to his mother, and all those words said out of a place of compliment only sounded like insults to the drunk father. He swallows down the rest of the liquid inside the bottle before tossing it across the room, near the boys' heads. ''Get in'', he says, his tone threatening, the two children obey, Zerah still holding Vahe's hand tightly.
Due to the slow pace of the children, the man grabs Zerah's arm, pulling him inside the house causing both of the children to fall on the cold floor where more empty bottles of beer lie.
''We don't have all day!'' The man yells again, this time his gaze goes to Vahe who fell a few centimeters away from Zerah, his hazel eyes open with clear fear. ''Why are you looking at me like that?'' Their father yells again, taking a step closer to the child. ''Huh?'' He grabs Vahe by the arm, bruising his delicate skin. ''Answer me!'' He yells directly at the boy's face.
All Vahe does is shake and cry, his perfect day playing with his brother now turning into a terrible nightmare. Everything that happens next is a blur, he can feel the sharp pain and the loud sound of his skin being ripped by the broken beer bottle, the cries and begs of his brother and the scent of his warm blood running through his skin.
❥
''Happy birthday!'' Zerah's voice is sweet in the early morning as he takes Vahe into his embrace, his hug is warm and his scent is familiar and safe. Truth be told, the boy doesn't care much for his birthday, as turning seven isn't something to be all excited about, especially when everyday is just a blur.
The mornings and afternoons are sweet and Zerah does his best to teach the young Vahe how to read, write and speak properly, even teaching the boy right from wrong, something he can't depend on his father to do so. And then when night falls and the terrifying sound of the door opening comes, Vahe sits on the floor, his knees touching the cold floor and his head down. He can't look up, he can't fall asleep or even move. He must stay completely still while his father makes Zerah his servant and drinks himself to sleep.
Once their father goes to sleep, that's when Vahe is allowed to exist, he gets up, eats whatever scraps are left and goes to sleep. Luckily for him, when his father leaves in the morning he's sober enough to not even bear a glance at his children.
That was their routine after that damned night eight months ago. The scar Vahe acquired from the broken bottle was scarring uglily, and his bruises never healed as once his face wasn't purple anymore, the older man would just punch him all over again.
''Your face makes me sick'', that was what his father said the last time he beat Vahe up, anything the boy does grants him a beating, if he eats too much, if he moves without permission, if he speaks or even if he dares to look at his father. Slowly the boy learned to just be docile, to stay there, immovable.
Life is unfair, he thought, but he didn't envy his brother, even if Zerah was beaten way less, he was forced to cook, clean and serve his father, the boy never told Vahe exactly what entailed all that he did, but Vahe knew that his brother also had a hell of his own.
What he truly envied were the children running outside their house, how they could smile and laugh, how they could sit with their parents for a meal, how they could attend school and learn about what the world is made of.
Vahe also wants to know.
Why is the world unfair?
Why did my father hit me?
Why must I keep staring at the floor?
Why must I bear the consequences of being alive?
Why was I born here, right now, with these parents, these circumstances?
If there is a god out there…
Why does he allow me to drown in this pain?
Must I believe that one day it all will stop?
Must I grit my teeth and swallow my pain?
Why is pain the only feeling I'm allowed?
Not that he ever got the answer to his own questions.
Because there was no greater god that cared for him, there was no one that heard his yells of pain and felt pity.
Everyone there was just surviving in their own way, and even if they're living their own hells, how could they turn a blind eye to the screams of pain of a child?
Zerah was Vahe's angel.
Even if all he could do was bring him a hard, almost molded bread to celebrate his birthday, he still did everything he could to hide it from their father and give it to the child in the morning. After all, this was the only day Vahe ate like a King, a small feast of his own.
He wakes up with a smile, because it is his birthday, because that means he can eat more than a small piece of bread and a little bit of watery cold soup that was left on his father's plate. He could eat a whole loaf of bread! That was… exciting!
But there was something different about his seventh birthday, the day fell on a weekend, so instead of having his full day alone with Zerah, they only had a small short window of time.
"Vahe, eat quickly, before our father comes back" his brother gives him a blinding smile. He ruffles the boy's head with pride while Vahe eats to his heart content the hard old bread. "Don't worry, I'll protect you, my little brother".
And he knows that Zerah means it, every single word.
However they slightly miscalculated the time they had. Their father arriving earlier than predicted, the familiar scent of alcohol and the sound of his boots hitting the old floor was enough to bring panic to Vahe's body, he looks at his brother who's also panicking, he doesn't want to let go of the small piece of bread he has left, he can't, he waited a whole year for that. He was starving.
His body was already craving the nutrients he rarely receives.
Zerah is quick, though. He grabs Vahe by the arm, pulling him towards the spot he must stay and pulls the bread from the child's hand, tossing it under the bed they share. By seconds he manages to get a hesitant Vahe to kneel and he himself runs towards the kitchen to pretend to be cleaning once the door opens.
There is a new stain on the floor today, Vahe thinks, his eyes fixated on the old wooden floor in front of him, his kneels hurting from how long he stayed like that the day before. Zerah told me he'll bring a book about the human body tomorrow, he thinks again, trying to ignore the loud sound of his father's step getting near him. I asked for a book on the stars for my birthday but he said the local library had none.
I know he's stealing the books, though.
Just like he stole that bread for me.
His heart starts beating quickly as his father sits on the old sofa behind him.
''Food'' the man says simply, turning on the projector they have so that he can watch the news, Vahe wants to raise his head and watch as well, but all he can do is hear about the destruction of the Earth and the rage of god that brings them only more despair.
A hour passes.
Then two.
Four.
Six.
And finally the man falls asleep, drunk out of his mind. Zerah goes to Vahe, touching his face and checking the boy's knees that are purple from the bruises, there's nothing they can do, though. There's no medicine for those forgotten by the world.
''I'm sorry'', Zerah whispers, crawling under the bed to find the piece of bread he tossed earlier, it didn't matter to them that the food was too long on the floor, either was dirty or rotten, food is food, and when you're constantly starving, such things don't matter anymore.
''I'm tired'', Vahe whispers, scratching his eyes that hurt from keeping them open all the time, forcing himself to not fall asleep. He yawns as his brother hugs him, the warmth he loves so much embracing him. ''Zerah, can't we kill him?'' His question makes his brother freeze, maybe he was thinking about the same thing, but a seven year old child shouldn't be thinking about that, the boy forgetting he was eleven himself.
''No…'' His brother answers with a pained whisper. ''We must endure Vahe, one day freedom will come''.
No brother, Vahe thinks, one day we'll be the ones that will be dead.
❥
It was rare for their father to come home with company. Either he spent the night away from home or requested Zerah for his help. But that winter day he brought someone home. It was the day after Zerah's 15th birthday and he was surprisingly sober. The woman that came with him was beautiful, she was wearing fancy earrings and a lot of makeup, her black hair smelled like sunshine.
Vahe remembers peeking through his room's door, watching as Zerah served food to their father and the woman, and for the first time he saw his father actually speak politely to someone, he didn't smile or laugh, but he was polite and kind, he didn't once yell or hit her.
That was when Vahe finally understood what Zerah told him years ago about how their father wasn't always like that.
He was human, capable of empathy and kindness.
Not a monster like in Vahe's many nightmares portrayed the man.
Quietly he stayed there watching them, hidden away, not a noise to be made. He even fell asleep at the door, being later carried to bed by Zerah.
When Vahe turned 10 he started to understand the world better, when his father wasn't home he read and spent time with his brother, learning more about the world he wasn't allowed to see. If their father ever found out he left the house, he would end up with another scar just like the one he has on his hip.
He still wanted to be like the other children and go to school. But he learned his place. The books were his teachers, satiating his thirst for freedom, at least for now. In the books he learned about the world before the wars, he learned about politics, math, chemistry, and even about the greed of humans.
Slowly his brother lost his light as well, even if he was forcing himself to still be there for Vahe, the boy could see, his brother's eyes becoming duller, his lips chapped from biting it too hard and the dark bruises he so desperately tried to hide under his shirt.
Vahe also found out the extent of Zerah's activities for their father, he never intended to, of course, after all sometimes ignorance is a bliss. After he did he attempted to give his brother small moments to breathe, he stopped seeking solace in him so much and even took care of him from time to time.
But it's been a while since Zerah last smiled at Vahe.
After his brother told him that murder is wrong and hurting others isn't the answer, Vahe avoided thinking about killing his father, but he can't avoid it from time to time, when the anger boils to the surface, and when the heavy fists land over and over again on his face.
Both of them know that this will only end when one of them dies. And Vahe strongly wishes for it to be his father.
''Vahe, come here'', Zerah says after his father left for work, he tapped the old sofa softly and on his hand was a new book. ''I bought this for you''.
Even if you keep saying that… I know you didn't buy it, Vahe thinks, not saying anything, he can't. If Zerah was lying to him all he could do was nod and pretend he believed his brother, if protecting him was the only thing Zerah could do inside their little hell, Vahe wasn't about to take it off from him.
Whether he stole, bought it or sold his soul for it, Vahe must appreciate and accept his brother's affection.
It's the only affection he might ever have.
Vahe sits next to his brother, his head resting on his shoulder, Zerah opens the book showing photographs of a world that once was. ''The clerk said that this is a relique from 2030'', he continues to speak about what every photo was, the animals, the forests, the people and the buildings. A small lesson of history.
Zerah was always particularly interested in buildings and construction, when anything broke around the house the boy was the one to fix it, and Vahe could tell that it was a pleasure for him to do so, his small solace in that place, just like the books he procures for his little brother are for him.
''I love you'', Vahe whispers, touching Zerah's hand, his brother stares at their hands for a moment. By his expression the young boy can tell that he wants to cry, but he doesn't. He wants to set an example of fortitude for Vahe.
And the boy wants to tell him that it's okay to cry, it's okay to be desperate for a way out. It's okay to be scared as well. But he says nothing, as he's scared as well, scared that if he allows Zerah to break down, he might follow suit.
At the end of the day, they're both using each other as their only source of warmth.
❥
It was a cold rainy night, the winds sang across the city, the sound of people's steps running away from the water was loud enough. Vahe was sitting near the only window that house had, staring at the droplets traveling down the glass as he heard the sweet humming of his brother while he was cleaning the house. He would offer help, but the last time he touched his father's things he ended up with a broken finger and a head concussion.
Now Vahe is 13, he knows better than to poke the hyena that lies asleep meters away from him, hungry, ready to devour him whole.
In the past years he slowly started crafting a plan, a plan to kill his father and run away with his brother, to anywhere, anywhere but that place. Even if they have to live on the streets, even if they starve and need to work until their bones break. What would be the difference? That at the end of the day they would be able to sleep and live with a free mind and a free body.
A life where their choices shape their path, where they can speak their mind and move however they wish.
He didn't speak of such plans with his brother, of course, he couldn't, after all that's the weight he must carry, he must be the one to kill their father, as Zerah already carried their survivals on his back for way too long.
It's funny how your perspective can change as you become older, when he was a mere child he couldn't understand properly why their father did what he did, he couldn't understand why Zerah protected him so much and why he allowed the man to hurt him instead. But now that he's 13 and his mind is slowly becoming clearer he can see it.
He can see the monster that his father is.
Not the deformed monster that children's books use, not the figurative monster of his psyche, no, he was a human monster, the most terrifying kind, able to devour his own kin until there's nothing left.
''Tomorrow I'm going to search for some work'', Zerah says as he approaches Vahe, a worn out towel on his shoulder and his hair was a bit longer, reaching his chin, he let it grow after father requested, so that he looks more… feminine.
Vahe feels sick to his stomach as he looks at his brother, his growth was stunned due to the lack of nutrients and his body was clearly malnourished. Even homeless people have access to all the nutrients, why must we bear this? Vahe questions himself, swallowing the tears that threaten to come out.
He knows that if Zerah wasn't enduring all of that, Vahe would've been in his place. And maybe that makes him the true monster. Because maybe if he was never born, Zerah would've been happy. However he has no way of knowing that.
''The rain will last 'till tomorrow'', Vahe says, turning his gaze towards the outside. ''You should wear a jacket'', he says. Zerah smiles weakly.
''We only have one, you might get cold, alone here'', his brother answers, Vahe snorts.
''I can handle a little cold, brother''.
Zerah hesitates, now that he's almost 18 he can finally get a proper job and start gathering money to leave that house with Vahe, that is if their father allows them to leave. Vahe strongly doubts it.
''Very well'', he says after a moment of silence, ''Just remember to not open the window or the door, it might bring a cold wind in''. Vahe nods. ''I'll get dinner started'', Zerah says walking towards the small broken fridge. Vahe doesn't care much about it, after all he never eats dinner either way, the food was only for their father.
Zerah freezes as he opens the fridge's door. ''Fuck'', the boy swears, it was so rare to hear his brother swear that it made Vahe immediately turn his head to see him staring with a terrified expression at it. ''I forgot to put father's food on his bag''.
His words are chilling, Vahe can feel it, and it's not just the cold wind singing on their window. Their father was violent and strict, that is no news, but he also had a tendency to blame Vahe for everything that happened, regardless of his actions. So both brothers know that the moment the man gets home, the one getting a beating is the younger.
''I…'' Zerah mumbles, his expression shows much more pain than Vahe's, as if he was the one beating his own brother, not their father. Vahe doesn't blame Zerah, he never did and never will.
''It's ok'', Vahe says with a shrug, it's nothing he didn't go through before. He's used to the pain.
''No… It's not'', Zerah says, closing the fridge's door and going to the window to look out. The rain blocks most of his vision, but their father's silhouette is impossible to miss. ''Hurry! Vahe! Hide!'' Zerah yells, running towards the door of the house. His desperation is watched by Vahe with a cold expression, he isn't scared, his brother shouldn't do this.
''I said it's ok!'' Vahe yells, ''I'm used to it!'' he yells again, grabbing his brother's arm, trying to get him off from the door. ''I'll just take the beating, brother, it's fine!'', but Zerah doesn't budge.
''You don't understand'', his brother says, with terror on his face. ''It's today.''
''What is today?''
''Mother's death anniversary'', those words are enough for Vahe to understand the bad feeling he had down his spine, and the fear in his brother's eyes. He was so entrapped into his own sorrow that he didn't check the dates.
On that day, every year, a single mistake could cost them a broken rib, a new scar or a beating session that would bring shame to any professional torturer.
Banging is heard on the door together with thunder, the older boy tries holding back the door from opening, but he's weak compared with the drunken adult on the other side.
It all happens too fast.
Their father enters, knocking Zerah down with the door that bangs on the boy's head, but the drunken man seems to be after the younger one.
''You little shit'', the man grabs Vahe by his neck, suffocating the boy. ''You stole our food, who do you think you are! You're a little pig shit!'' He yells, his breath stinks of alcohol as he tosses Vahe across the room, making the boy hit his head on the wall. The pain is bearable, he already felt worse, but it doesn't mean he enjoys it.
He watches as his father finishes his bottle and tosses on him, the shards of glass cutting the skin of his face, may it'll scar, but Vahe doesn't really care. With the corner of his eye he can see Zerah getting up, his head dripping blood, Vahe wants to yell at his brother, tell him to stay away, that it isn't worth it, protecting him.
His father opens another bottle at the corner of the table, Zerah stumbles around, attempting to reach Vahe, his blood dripping on the floor loudly. Vahe extends his hand to touch his brother's face, his beautiful and shiny eyes are dull and red because of the impact on his head, the warm blood is a contrast to his cold skin.
''What are you doing?'' Their father yells again, pulling Zerah away by the hair, ''Stay away from that pig''.
Pig? I barely ate a whole loaf of bread this week, Vahe thinks, he wants to laugh, mock the drunkard in front of them, but he can't. Because he fears him, a fear so primitive so inherent of him that even if in his mind he's able to rationalize the situation, his body can't move nor his mouth is able to mutter words.
''Please father, stop'', Zerah begs, his hands attempting to alleviate the man's grip on his hair, but all that does is instigate the man further.
''Stop? What am I doing?'' He says, angry. ''I'm simply disciplining you, you should be grateful I still provide a roof and food for you!'' he yells. ''You little shits!'' the man tosses Zerah against the wall once again, this time the boy stays there, immovable.
Vahe's tears become uncontrollable, he can bear the pain, he can take it, there's no need for his brother to take his pain from him. He wants to yell, tell the man to not hurt his brother, to go away, to die, but he can't, as if there is a huge rock holding his chest still.
''And you!'' The man walks towards Vahe, ''This is all your fault! You murderer!''.
What? Vahe thinks in despair, his whole body frozen solid, all he can do is stare at his brother's immovable body, waiting for him to take another breath.
But he doesn't.
In mere seconds, with just a small toss, a bang in the head.
His tears make his vision blurry but he can't take his eyes off his brother, a lump forming on his throat, he wants to yell, to shout, to run, to go to his brother, do anything. Save him.
Another bottle is broken on his face, but he can't move, the pain is inexistent now, even when his father kicks his knees, when he drenches his wounds in alcohol or when he takes a piss on his face. It doesn't matter, he can't move, he can't even cry anymore, he can't act.
A useless boy that all he can do is watch his brother's light fading away.
''If I ever die, I want you to survive, Vahe, at any cost, you must live well'', one day Zerah told him that he doesn't even remember when it was, what age they had or why the boy said that. Maybe it was the first time their father requested his help at night, or when he tore open Vahe's skull.
Those words keep chanting inside his head like a curse.
Survive. Survive. Survive.
He doesn't want to.
He wants to die along with his brother.
It doesn't matter how much pain he was put through by their father. There is no greater pain than what he's feeling right now, watching his brother's body decompose, unable to move or even attempt to bury him with a little dignity.
What is Vahe but a failure of a brother?
It was all his fault.
What right has he to keep living when his brother's life was taken instead of his?
And their father barely noticed, the rotten body at the corner of their house, or the child that was frozen solid for days staring at it.
One day Vahe simply snapped back.
He can't explain what happened, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was his brother's words chanted like a spell.
But he got up, like a puppet, cleaned his wounds, changed his clothes and left the house dragging his brother's already rotten body outside. He doesn't quite remember where he buried him, nor does he remember if he did so properly. When he came back he cleaned the house, ate and left everything ready when his father returned home.
Like a robot he kept doing that. Day after day, like a curse that he must go through in order to repent.
One day he was cleaning the empty bottles, it was his birthday but that didn't matter, whether he was 15 or 1000 years old, he was trapped inside this hell. But like magic at that moment something snapped inside him once again, and the memories afflicting him simply disappeared. The fear, the pain and Zerah's existence, all gone.
That day he walked away, left the house, one step at a time, and then he ran until he was out of breath.
That was the day he conquered his freedom.