Such Disgrace

The Useless Box

"And they call you an Incubi.."

"You were born from a whore!"

"Disgusting slut."

It wasn't my fault I was both. Born into a world that did it the disgusting things itself. I took no damned part in it yet they call me the slut?

Sure, maybe I wasn't completely an Incubus, whoop-tee-do. Having a human mother and a full Incubi father born into such a wretched world. They act as if I'm the only one like it in the world, I choose not to believe it. I haven't come across another half-breed like myself, but there's a whole world out there. My own father has to protect me from other Incubi, he says they'll take me away and do bad things to me.

My father has never called me a disgrace or disgusting, he loves me for me, mother too. Mother thinks having a son like myself is 'pretty cool'. She said that God told her she'd have an unexpected event bring joy into her live but seemed to leave out the part where after that time period of joy comes despair.. There is always going to be despair in such world of joy.

Despair comes everyday. It comes knocking down the door with colorful glowing eyes in pitch black smog. Sometimes the smoke will choke me up and my vision will turn black like i'm staring down into an abyss. Yet it's like a force is there to stop my death, dare I say i'm thankful for it? I say i'm scared of it, I know not of what it is.
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My father's hand ruffled my dark brown curls, "Javior.. I love you." He smiled warmly while his arm around his maiden. She rested her head upon his shoulder while looking down at me. A tear rolled down her cheek, I couldn't place if it were supposed to be a happy tear or not.

I snorted and grabbed his giant hand with my small ones, an uncontrollable grin spread across my face as I clung to his hand. "He's so gorgeous, Marcus." My mother said with a small crack in her voice while she wiped away the tear that escaped her tear duct. "I don't think we can let him go." She said in a shaky voice, her green eyes met his yellow ones. A sudden wave of distraught came over his face as he pulled his hand away from my small frame.

I looked at them confusedly being I was still at the age that I couldn't express everything in words just yet. What did she mean by 'I don't think we can let him go.' I didn't think I was going anywhere, because I belonged in this home where I was, with them. My face dropped when my father stood up to hand me something. It was a black box with some sort of foreign language engraved at the top. He turned away from me and took a hold of his wife's hand. These were the last words he spoke to me since that day. "I can't be there to protect you anymore, but that box I just gave you.. Is soul bound to you, it's name is Fahire. If you ever need hi- it, in a time of crisis.. Say its name, and it'll be there." He said slowly, his facial expression darkened a bit more before he squeezed his crying wife's hand tightly.

The distance between us grew farther and farther, I couldn't move to follow them. But why? Why couldn't I move? Salty tears ran down my face as cries escaped my mouth trying to call them back to me. It was useless, they were already blurred out my vision. I wiped my eyes and looked down at the box my father gave me before leaving. I couldn't do anything more but stare at it, despite being in a state of shock and utter confusion, it hurt inside. It felt like everything I knew was slowing becoming foreign. This wasn't the true world. It couldn't have been..

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I was dirty.

I was fucked up.

I sat on the side of the street in what I had, my black box and myself. Now that I was bigger, the box wasn't as big as I once thought it was. I felt grimey and disgusting, I stunk really badly and was in dire need of a clothing change. I didn't even like touching my hair anymore, I could imagine the knotted greasy locks upon my head now. I bet I wasn't a pretty sight to look at. But what could I do? Nothing. Exactly it.