Khoines revenge

Chapter 7

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Leo

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Numbness wasn't the word for it anymore after Zethes. The Boreas spawn left him unconscious for however-long. The cold... It was pain, it was ache, it was freezing, it was cold.

He had been left in here for a while now. Time didn't matter much anymore, he'd lost track of it. The only thing on his mind was the freezing, merciless cold.

The worst part was he could feel it killing him. He smoked up slightly, only to just rid of some cold and keep himself functioning. He prayed to the Gods above someone was coming for him. He didn't know how long he could hold everything off in this condition.

Khiones words repeated themselves in his mind 'you are a monster', 'you murdered your own mother'. The crushing feeling of that moment the policeman told him his mother was dead... he'd always hoped he'd never have to feel that again. Yet here he was, it stamping and crushing what he could feel in his stomach and heart. Over. And over.

And over.

"Leo." a soft voice came from his left. It took effort, but he looked as much that way as he could. Ice audibly crackled against his skin. No one was there.

"Leo?" the voice repeated on his right. Again, he turned his agonising head in the direction.

"You truly are a fool." Khione appeared in front of him and slapped him. He caught the small, sadistic smirk she had before she splayed those three fingers across his forehead again, a small failed sound of protest escaped him. But it was too late.

*

Leo's arms were heavy.

He'd been through the foster system for just over 6 months now, now he had ended up in Tennessee. There were families he met that he liked and others he didn't. This family he was with currently he didn't like. At all. The feeling was clearly mutual, Leo didn't understand why they'd put out for foster care if they specifically wanted a Daughter. It wasn't his fault he was a boy.

However, this set seemed determined to make it feel his fault.

Chore after chore, bible reading after bible reading, asking for forgiveness for a sin he never committed over and over. Chore after chore. Hateful and hurtful comment one after another. For nearly a month now.

He hated it here. He missed his madre. He missed the machine shop. He missed tacos. He missed bedtime stories.

He missed a lot of little things.

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He had been washing the dishes - as usual - one September night when it happened.

The man and woman, whom he was only allowed to address as sir, ma'am, mister or miss and only when spoken to or not at all, were seated at the dining table in the join dining/kitchen area. They were eating dinner and he'd been putting his dishes away.

A porcelain dish slipped innocently from his wet and soapy fingers. It landed with a loud clatter and smash. The conversation the man and woman ceased and the two pairs of eyes bore onto him.

'Lo siento! Lo siento!' 9-year old Leo scrambled, falling to his knees to pick up pieces of the broken dish. 'Lo siento ma'am, sir, it won't happen again. Nada.' His breath caught in his throat when a chair scraped backwards and heavy footsteps daunted his hearing. The dish pieces seemed even more slick with his foster mother standing, looming at him, over him. His trembling fingers stumbled over the shards of porcelain, too many times.