Stood around Grey. His former family as he's bound by ropes...the ropes of their lies and manipulation sickeningly tangled, with the stone altar beneath him. Tradition they call it...sacrificing the weakest amongst them for gold to maintain their selfish status. Their eyes glazed by greed that drips from their tainted tongues as one. This is no family...but lost embers that rose from the ashes of abuse, and cruel ambition. “Oh, don't look at me like that, dear. You know this is for the good of the family” his “mother” says with a cruel smile. She does not think of the family, but of wealth and power...and of the manipulation that has twisted her mind like the generation before. Her condescending gaze falls onto his defiant glare and abruptly grips his jaw as the incantation takes place. “You think you can act tough? Your just like your father- pathetic and worthless” His trembles a tear of spite; a sign he refuses to break.
“Do it then” he bitterly spits out “kill your own son, sell my soul for gold, you greedy fucking whore...”. Her eyes flash with rage, immediately returning a hard slap to the face.
“That is no way to speak to your mother! You will learn respect in hell your worthless piece of crap...” venom drips from her sadistic and hateful eyes. Beatrice, his eldest “sister” nestles a knife in her hesitant and trembling hands... another victim lost to these flames. Nothing but the chilling darkness fills the harsh forest around them...silence. The woods holding its breath as the trees loom over and watch. The carving of a goat with Beatrice's knife stabs into the gaps of stillness. Its blood is poured, splattering into the shape of a reversed pentagon. Dimly lit candles cradled at the corners; the chanting wedged in spaces in between. Despite his blood burning hate...there is sympathy through the cracks of his facade, towards the cruel cow that is his mother. He's never seen the moments but is not unequal to understanding them. the lies...the abuse... the inhumane words that were violently drilled into her mind, to plant the seeds of this self-destructive need for power. It's pathetic to even use the word "family" for such a broken group. His rage slowly withering into...helplessness. resignation
"What's that? forgot how to use your words? you truly are pathetic...to think I even had the misfortune of birthing someone so incompetent" his mother snarls coldly. her eyes full of nothing but cruel disappointment.
His eyes drift upward; his inner turmoil tearing pieces of his soul apart...leaving a newfound conviction in his eye that makes her grin falter. She unconsciously takes a step back. “What's that look for...? Well come on, spit it out!” she shouts, but her act falters...cracks. Confusion sprouting fear.
The look in his eyes, the type to bore holes through someone's heart; calm, but unnervingly so; that demands attention without having to speak a word."...So, who the fuck made you...?” the words gently cold, as they slide off his venomous tounge and into her ignorant ears. “Did your parents abuse you too? Was it pain that crafted you into this, greedy, selfish...but lost, and lonely coward? Do you enjoy my suffering because in reality you are too afraid to admit you regret this path you chose?...or do you not even enjoy it all? do you simply cry alone, surrounded by the money tainted by the blood, of your own innocent children who begged for Mercy on the days you slit their throat? Do you pray every morning that one day, a saviour will come tear you away from this endless nightmare of shame and guilt? Did you ever realise, that will never happen?” The chanting abruptly stops...a tense silence suddenly falls, as their heads turn to his questions. His mother pauses...hesitates...a slight tremble making its way down her tainted hands. Something akin to guilt cracks trough her no longer unwaveringly cold eyes.
“what” she blurts out, attempting to maintain her cold facade “what...you dare talk to me that way!?” she blares, marching over once more. Time halts in anticipation, as everyone steps back with wide eyes. But before she can manhandle him...he snaps to his feet. ropes falling, a knife Raising to her neck as he grapples round her back. It's in this moment where she freezes. Her body ruptures an ache of disheartened fear she refuses to acknowledge
“You are not free” ...his words come vacant, firm, and unsettlingly calm.
“What-...let go of me! I am your mother! You have no right to...!” Shes cut off as the knife grazes against her neck...a trick of blood seeping out...a trick of horror, shivering down her body like a chilling promise of the inevitable, as it flashes before her eyes.
“You are not free”, he repeats... “You think you are, but you are not...you do not see the chains on your wrists, for they are on your mind...you don't even control your own thoughts anymore. hitting a lever like a lab rat; A kid dying in return for your blood tainted gold. You weren't born lazy in your own greed, you were trained; distracted to death by constant degrading words of the people you named “family” ...you feel it don't you...? That pit in your stomach, that silent whisper when your alone at night of what you could've been...your potential”
A stunned silence fills the gaps of dripping blood. A hanging cliff, ready to collapse beneath her feet, into the pit of her own mistakes...of her own lazy, selfish, lust for money...her need to please those who never loved her. Her body quivers, each drip of sweat mirrors the fleeting moments of her life slipping through her own feeble hands.
“No, you... You...I'm your mother, you should love me... I gave birth to you!” Her pride hangs on dwindling strings as she contradicts herself “You cannot do this to me! You won't! I am your mother!”
“And I am your son. And it is your son, who will stop my, and your own suffering” His voice like frostbite...cold, and numb...but a little flame of empathy sparks amongst this frozen promise “May you find peace in whatever awaits after your death”
In his vacant eyes it shows, only he understands her pain...and it was only he who ever truly cared; but he knows forgiveness is not an option. Her hands stop struggling, her body gives out into resigned acceptance as she looks to the night sky. The stars crackle and shimmer as she finally gives up on repairing what has long been broken. Her next words coming out strained...softer, full of a vulnerability she sworn to hide. The only promise she has broken that was for the better. “I... I'm sorry. so sorry. Please...whatever you do, get away from this place, they’ll hunt you down if you don't.” her grey eyes finally show some colour through her shaken black hair “I'm sorry I never said I loved you.”.
He musters a tremble of a nod. he hesitates, before saying "I loved you mother...and something in me... still does.” with a deep breath, he silences her...a clean cut, across her now bloody neck. She falls with an aloud thud to the floor...and so does a single tear from his thousand-mile stare.
This near death only made him stronger. Through suffering, they have crafted him into...judgment. It is he who has taken the crown... and it is he who now wears the heavy responsibility, of seeking redemption.
