The Untouchable

Chapter 85

His father shouted: excitedly, violently, exasperatedly. His mother tried to interject softly between the screams, but was quickly silenced by the next outburst. Daniel shuddered as he listened. His father was demanding money again! He was fed up with that talentless bastard! Why couldn't he accept the obvious fact that his paintings were worthless, even if given away for free? There was no genius in his work, just a pathetic imitation of the greats. They had wasted so much money on these useless paintings and gallery exhibitions, and his father earned a negligible amount, relying on wealthy expats who occasionally bought his crap. He recklessly spent his mother's paycheck on his own needs, ignoring the family's, which was why they were living in a rented house instead of owning one.

Daniel punched the wall in frustration as he listened. Now the bastard wanted to dip into his school fund, which his mom had promised never to touch! His dad was screaming to fund an exhibition in New York, not in cheap Kuala Lumpur, which would consume a third of the fund. "You've lost your mind, asshole! I'd kill you, I'd crush you like a cockroach!" Daniel exhaled slowly, trembling with hatred.

So much for the bastard drinking - why couldn't he just break his neck? An accident. The kind of accidents that often send alcoholics to their graves could have taken care of him for good. The house was old and shoddy, with flimsy, falling floorboards that were easy to trip over. The stairs were perfect for a fatal fall. One misstep on an uneven step, and he could have been silenced forever, sparing the house from his foul breath and incessant whining. People like him belonged in the gutter. People like him should have spent their lives wearing a waiter's apron, doing their so-called creative work in their spare time. Not traveling the world, living luxuriously at the expense of a smart wife, draining her bank account like an insatiable parasite.

Why did they ever meet? His mother, gifted and blessed, should have found a calm intellectual partner to develop her career and raise a happy family. But instead, she fell for a worthless man, sacrificing everything for him. The post-Soviet mentality of a woman: enduring everything from her lover, even beatings and psychological abuse.

Daniel couldn't believe his ears, frozen with horror as his mother spoke clearly. She agreed to pay for the exhibition, begging his father not to demand a divorce, asking for another chance - as if he was serious about leaving her! Fury boiled within Daniel, dissolving his doubts. He wouldn't let her ruin his future!

His hand picked up the glass ball with snowy Moscow, a birthday gift from his grandmother. Silently, he descended the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky spots. The voices grew closer with each step - no longer thunderous, but softly cooing, an infuriating sound. He couldn't decide who I hated more, the vile father or the servile mother. Hate fused them into one loathsome entity. The bottom steps creaked as his father pushed his laughing mother upstairs to work off the exhibition in bed. He gritted his teeth in disgust, bracing himself for their vulgar moans and the loud creaking of the bed yet again.

No! He would end it now, once and for all! Stop the bastard from parasitizing his own family! He weighed the heavy glass ball in his hand, remembering how his furious father used to hit poor Cooper, even as he stopped howling and convulsed. His only furry friend, the most loyal heart in the world, had stopped beating because of that lowlife!

He froze on a flight of stairs, pressed against the wall. It was their fault, both of them! Mother and father! They brought him into this world only to neglect him! They never noticed him! His father only found joy in tantrums and beatings, distributing them equally between his wife and son. He grew up to spite them! He studied to spite them! He was going to make something of himself, not end up like them! And now it was his father's turn to suffer!

His father kissed his mother lustily, swatting at her and rustling her clothes, chuckling as she shrieked with joy. Step. A smack. The elastic band of his underwear snapped. A vulgar shriek from his mother. Step. Another step. It's time!

"Fuck you, not my education fund!" And the snowy miniature Moscow came crashing down on his hated blond head. A terrible crack - Cooper's head, which didn't even start biting back, had cracked loudly too. His father's astonished face hadn't yet had time to change its expression; his full red lips rounded incomprehensibly as a scarlet trail ran down from his forehead, bisecting his smarmy face. He swayed, dull-eyed, and swiped at the railing with an outstretched hand, trying to hold himself up. The creature wants to live! Well, here we go, here we go!

The glass ball soared and fell once, again, again, again, and again! Crack. Squelch. A splash of scarlet.

Mom howled like a Jericho trumpet, weakly waving her hand, trying to stop it, to push him away. But it was too late - the bastard who wasn't supposed to be his father was falling maddeningly slow, as if the frame rate had been reduced to slow motion. His blue eyes glazed in the fall, devoid of reason, of any last thought, and sobered suddenly.

The heavy body swept downward with a clatter and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Mother, cutting herself short on a high note, clattered fractionally with her heels and flew down to her father. Grandmother sounded alarmed from above, bombarding them with questions, stomping finely.

Terror flooded in. Mad, overwhelming, rabid fear. The glass ball slipped from his fingers, cheerfully bouncing down the stairs until it finally shattered. His palms, stained with warm blood, trembled coarsely. His eyes darkened. His mouth soured from the bile he'd spewed out. What had he done? My God, what had he done?!

"Danny!" Grandmother shook him by the shoulders and recoiled in horror at the sight of his bloody hands. She looked down, where her daughter was crawling around her husband's lifeless body, howling sorrowfully. And suddenly, she understood everything. Her face went dead, her eyes slowly filled with shocked disappointment. And that's what did it.

Daniel threw himself down, leaping over his parents in a great bound, shuddering with violent sobs, tears blurring his vision. In the garden, he collapsed on the uncut grass, huddled, pounding the ground with his fists. It was difficult to breathe through the tearing sobs. Tears flowed in rivers. Daniel howled, rolling on the grass, cursing everything in the world. It was too painful, excruciatingly painful! The white rage that had blinded him was gone, leaving only great regret and fear. What would happen next? How would they live? It would have been better if he had never been born!

Ice-cold water brought him to his senses. His grandmother hosed him down - collected, restrained. She cut off his wailing howl abruptly.

"Go wash up! Now! The police are coming. You didn't do anything. You saw your father covered in blood, tried to help, and ran out into the garden. Do you understand?" She slapped his cheek, snapping him out of his lethargy.

Daniel struggled to get up. The meaning of her words barely reached his stunned mind. What was happening seemed too wild, completely devoid of logic, upside down. His eyes were blurred. His head ached with pain. He desperately wanted to be consoled, to be forgiven...

"Your mother killed in self-defense," his grandmother looked away over his shoulder, avoiding his face. "Go."

She didn't forgive. One can't forgive something like that.

Mom rocked dumbly on her knees. No longer crying, no longer screaming. She looked dimly at his father's face, beautiful even in death. Her cheek was swelling before his eyes - probably hit by Grandma to give the story credibility. Details settled like oil drops on water, not penetrating his mind, not processed. Only one thing pounded in his brain: Mom killed, killed, killed. Mother. Killed.

His mother's empty eyes rose up like a blow. The world shook and trembled, silently shattering into countless glass shards. An impenetrable darkness fell.