Pathos「Pokemon Fanfiction」

Nineteen

(tw: warning for violence/very mild torture)

Chapter Nineteen: The World's Theorem Of Fairness

He felt as if he was floating.

It was as if he was inside a dream, and he was a baby Fletchling with a broken wing that was trying to fly; floating, falling, floating, falling—he was stuck in an endless cycle of awkward motion that he couldn't quite get himself out of.

Fabio Lucrum found himself trapped inside a cage of nightmares.

The one thing he prided himself on was control. He had lost that now, however, and whatever mysterious force that was up against him didn't seem to want to let him win.

And so he gave up. Let the shadowy hands clawing at his cold skin grab him as he fell. Closed his eyes as he lapsed back into the state of unconscious—or rather, an unwanted purgatory that held him as he teetered on the edge of an imaginary cliff.

It was easier than struggling, after all, and in the first place—he'd never liked pain .

§

When the boy next woke, he was a child again, back in Sinnoh even when he'd thrown that place out of his mind years ago.

His hands were small once again when he glanced down at them; they lacked the childlike skin someone would possess, however, and they were coated with a layer of grime that made his pale skin seem a shade darker.

He could feel his tiny heart pounding deep in his chest, like a Pyroar trying to escape a cage or something. If the officials discovered him and his sister, he would be dead within a moment—the government was corrupt and hateful like that.

Fabio absolutely despised those grown-ups. The ones that thought they could run the world, in the end, all they did was make it a despicable hellhole that he couldn't even bear to live in.

The eight-year-old tried to comfort himself. His father would be back soon with food. Or, at least, that was what the man had promised—but more often them not, he would return with empty hands and a mouth full of bullshit.

It was all he could do to not look disappointed when he heard his father's footsteps and saw his hands empty. He could only plaster a false look of understanding at his latest excuse; at some kind of reason that he couldn't care less for.

He hated the man with all his heart. He hated kind people, especially those that couldn't afford to be nice to others in this ugly world but still was anyway—because on the other end of all the kindness and smiles, people like him suffered.

"I'm sorry," his father had apologised. "I just found another beggar starving in the streets, and I just had to..."

His lip curled at that, but he couldn't argue back. It would be disrespectful to scream back to his father that he was blind, that they were the ones who were suffering and couldn't he be more careful with his actions for once?

They were beggars too. They were starving and dirty and sick of the world, but his parents were too blind to see that.

This was why he hated mercy.

Fabio was eight, barely breathing and clinging on to whatever frayed thread of life he could find, and he could not breathe.

§

"Oh. You're finally awake, Sleeping Beauty."

The voice that buzzed in his ears was more than condescending. It had a bitter edge to it, the timbre concealed by layers of deceit and malice, and he opened his eyes to meet golden irises with nothing but angry hysteria in them.