Blood of the Children

Finding Daddy Issues

An: Finally got around to editing this chapter a little bit. Not betaed or edited very well so probably not great quality today lol. Also slight TW, theres a sprinkling of sexism in there so be aware of that. As always, don't do anything in this fic. It's in the name. fan FICTION. this aint real and i dont have any of these culty values. anyway, have a good day/night folks
___________________________

His mother was yelling at him again.

Well, yelling was a major overstatement. She was normally quiet, sweet. Like every woman in camp. They were trained to be that way because no one likes a fussy woman.

She was more... slightly raising her voice at him.

Not very intimidating.

He was getting his ear chewed off because he forgot to send his clothes down the clothes shoot last night. She said that he made a fool of himself, and more importantly, the family coming in with his puffy, white temple clothes on.

" What were you thinking, Mr?" She questioned. "How can you not notice that you have no clothes in your closet?"

He sighed and lolled his head back in annoyance, "Ma, I'm sorry, okay? I was just tired and I wasn't thinking."

" Hmph , I sure hope so. God bless your future wife, she'll have to help you a whole lot by the look of things..." she added, walking into the hallway, away from his room.

"Oh! By the way, Kil," she said, poking her head through the door. "Your father wants you to start working with him soon! Take it up with him."

—————————————————

Construction, that's what his father did for work. He built and built and built. For the church, out in town, for commission, whatever.

Pretty simple stuff really, but the only question he had was, him? Seriously? Killua was built like a frail, Victorian child. He had albinism so he didn't do well in the sun, he was skin and bones naturally, and he had absolutely zero muscle mass. Nada. Zilch.

How was he expected to lift heavy stuff and nail it into place? What about maneuvering around the construction site? He would probably fall and break a hip with his luck.

Not to mention the fact that the reason he barely leaves the house is that he's, like, some special gift of the Gods or something.

They always told him that but had never explained themselves because of private, adult knowing reasons. Well he was almost seventeen now and he thought he deserved the right to know!

He sure hoped he wasn't like the new Teller or anything, he wouldn't be able to handle all that. Why would God pick him out of all of his followers anyway? He couldn't possibly be that special.

He sighed and slipped his boots on, well, his brother's old boots to be exact. As the tiny middle child, it was his duty to obtain every old piece of clothing from his siblings after they either didn't want it or could fit into it.