The Black Swordsman

Chapter 22: Prince of Hell

15 Years Ago:

A young Vassago Casals is woken up in his bed, after hearing aggressive yelling coming from outside of his room. He rubbed his tired eyes, pulled the sheets and blanket off of himself and made his way out of his bed. He, quietly, made his way towards the door to his room that was cracked open just enough for him to put his right eye to it, in order to see out of. He saw a Hispanic woman with messy black hair yelling at a slightly older Japanese man, who wore a business suit. The woman, who was responsible for the yelling, was his mother and the man in the business suit, who had a concerning scowl on his face, was his father. Vassago hadn't seen his father too many times but, unfortunately, he knew that no one could bring out this kind of rage from his mother...other than, Vassago, himself. As sad as it was for him to accept, his mother hated him. Hated him more than anything. Vassago couldn't quite understand the reason why...was it because he brought back painful memories from her past...was it because he looked like his father...or was it the fact that his birth was a constant reminder of his mother's relationship with his father...if it could even be called a relationship. Vassago gulped, nervously, and was worried for his mother's safety but chose not to make a sound and continued to listen and watch the conversation from the crack in his bedroom door.

"Why the fuck are you even here, if you aren't taking that bastard child with you?" yelled Vassago's mother in frustration. "Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it's been raising that little demon?"

"A demon, huh? Is that any way to talk about our son?" was his father's composed response which only seemed to anger his mother, further.

"Don't even call him that! He is not our son! He's a regret! A fucking mistake! A damn curse! The only reason that I gave birth to that little hell spawn is because I didn't have a choice!"

"Oh, on the contrary, you did have a choice", returned his father. "I offered you a large sum of money to give birth to our son for reasons that I made very clear to you from the start and you took the money. It's not my fault that you're a crack whore, who wasted all of that money. Hell, if you weren't an uncouth hooker in the first place...we wouldn't really be having this conversation right now, would we?"

Vassago cringed as soon as he heard the painful slap that his mother gave his father. His father rubbed the red mark on his cheek and for the first time during the conversation, the look on his face changed into a terrifying look of rage. Without hesitation, Vassago's father, violently, socked his mother in the jaw, sending her to the carpet of the apartment. Vassago's hand took hold of the door knob on his bedroom door and began trembling. He wanted to open the door to protect his mother and, in that moment, he didn't care how much his mother hated him but something was preventing him from doing so...it was fear of his father. Despite how disgusted it made Vassago feel, seeing his mother beaten in such a way, there was no denying that his father scared him.

"The only reason I pushed you to give birth to that little shit is because my other son was born with a congenital kidney defect. Someone like you could never understand what it's like to have a kid that you actually care for...what you would be willing to do to make sure that kid survives. The reason I came here today to visit your shitty apartment was to see how my little donor was doing...I didn't come to check to see how his pathetic fucking mother was doing because I couldn't give less of a shit. Me ordering your services all those years ago was one of the biggest fucking mistakes of my life but...at least, something promising did come out of it. An opportunity to save my son. The only thing that matters is that you keep your kid in good enough health...I don't give a fuck about what kind of shape you're in. Do you understand me, you ignorant bitch?"

Vassago's father rammed his foot into his mother's side several times, with each kick seeming more powerful than the last. Not being able to take the sight any longer, Vassago, finally, opened the door to his room and ran into the living area of the apartment and rammed himself right into his father's right leg. He started punching his father's shins with his tiny fists, not knowing what else to do.