Broken

powder kryptonite.

"How is your eye?". He asks, standing beside the bed. On the bed is a blonde haired man, one of his eye bandaged and freshly wrapped in gauze.

The nurse had put a tray of water on the table side attached to the bed.

George still held by the small flashes of pain doesn't answer. What could he say? The eye was in a total state of ruination.It could not be gotten back again.

Not that any of this was koshineke's business, not at all. He was here for a purpose. The one thing he should have done a long time ago.

Be a man.

Stand for his family.

Remove the shackles placed on him by his careless and errant father.

It was a painful notion that so many people bore the yoke created from the carelessness of their parents.

He...wanted that yoke broken today.

He had already given Rebecca, his wife, her childhood bear. The bear had the answer to the aftermath of everything that would happen today in this room.

A breath to steady himself and the door firmly locked to prevent disruption. He was ready.

It was a shame. He could not hug his wife. Now she had done everything, even accepted sexual shame and degradation from his tormentor.

She had bore a bastard child and still held fast, never breaking, not once.

Until, his youngest granddaughter, light.

George had done it again.

It wasn't fair that he grew to old age.

Now was the perfect time.

Koshineke removes his jacket and steps out of his socks.

All those years of restrained anger and painful stretches of silence where his wife looked up to him to do something.

He had.

He had been doing something. They just did not see it.

In order to kill the hydra; a snake whose head multiplied when you lopped it off, you had to cut off the group of amplifying serpent head from its base and burn it with fire. Burn it roots, seal its roots in fire.

Slowly he had taken to sprinkles of powdery fire to George's food and drink. Also partaking of it too. Because it was what he deserved.

How fitting that poison was a woman's weapon and George hated women but he would die by the sharp kiss of her blade.
Now, the final kiss. The final touch.

Leaning over George, he kisses him. Deep, his tongue slipping in just like George had taught him...without his consent.

Everything he had experienced to this day was without his consent.

Everything, being taken from his father's house to a boys hostel. If he had been allowed to run wild with his fellow brothers, he would never had met his curse.

"Not now, koshineke, am not in the mood"
George says, pushing his lover...slave to the side of the bed.

Koshineke smiles and hold the pale strong hand that had struck his wife and held her down as he had taken her against her will.
The hand that had pushed his head against the wall of the school toilet as he forced his member inside him. He dare not shout...embracing the burning intrusion with silent tears on his face.

Koshineke lies down on his side, facing the bandaged eye of his master, the bearer of his chains.

"Perhaps later...in hell"

George raises his eyebrows, his head fuzzy from the anaesthetic given to him for the pain of his ruptured eye.

Koshineke laughs and then with a smile, puts his arm around his lover.

"No one will ever hurt you again." He says to his wife, Rebecca, his daughter, kambilli, his daughter, Oliver...his granddaughter, light.

George, his head heavy, the fingers of "sleep" pulling him, tries to talk to his lover.

Koshineke raises his head up, a warm smile on his face, his eyes drooping shut because his body was slowly answering the call of the poison.

"George...go to sleep".

The droopy eyes, the eerie calm smile and the warm touch of a strange tranquility soaked around him set off his warning bells.

"Don't fight it."

He tries to sit up, but the placid draw of the peculiar lull becomes aggressive, it sits on his chest, dragging his breath, pulling him into the murky embrace.

His lone blue eye shimmer with teary desperation to live. He wants to live. He wants to breath. Koshineke knows this. He's lived that desperation everytime he saw his wife on the floor looking up at him to save her.

His wife...his wife....the last thing on his mind as he embrace the cold fingers pulling him. The warm embrace losing its heat.