Belaphorde jogged through the bustling Kaleidian night streets for a short while before a mixture of his unathletic clothes and sore muscles made him walk to his destination. The music of the stores and clubs blended and shifted. Cheerful, sad, and angry drunks all had the thing in common of taking up the sidewalk. The thumping bass. Bottles clining. Shout-talking strangers. The smell of too sweet perfumes and alcohol. This was not a place where Belaphorde belonged. He was but a shadow passing through the lightscape.
He didn't need a map to find his way. Belaphorde followed the spiralling towers in the skyline. Once at the cobblestone plaza, he gazed upon the gates. It was a masterpiece of gothic architecture. Pillars and arches in decadence. Spotlights illuminated the building, showing it off like an art piece. Stained glass windows shined in their brilliant colours. The virgin Mary, in her blue robes, held the little baby Jesus. Belaphorde walked towards the grandiose cathedral and sat down on the lowest step. His mother had been deeply religious. The little church they went to each week was a staple in Belaphorde’s life. In the halls, he had been told about heaven and hell. Eaten dry biscuits. He had looked at the postcards with motifs of saints and cathedrals and thought they were pretty. Now he was here, right by the real thing, and for the first time he really thought about his upbringing. About his mother, Marianne. About the church.
Marianne had been a teenager when she had Belaphorde. She had fallen in love with an old bastard who left the moment he was told she was pregnant. Marianne could have decided to simply not keep the child. She could have gotten an education. A future. But she wanted to keep the child. Belaphorde was born out of wedlock with no legal father. Men could choose to not regonize the child as theirs if the parents weren’t married. Marianne would tell Bel over and over how he was her treasure. Her parents and the church had more mixed feelings. Marianne had done right by birthing the child but was sinful for becoming pregnant in the first place. So many pitying looks were turned towards the two. Marianne told Belaphorde that he had to work hard and behave or he would end up in hell. Marianne often talked about hell. Her parents quickly grew tired of taking care of the two of them and helped Marianne find an apartment. She didn't complain but went along with everyone's wishes. She was too stubborn and stupid to ask for help. Too afraid and with no knowledge to seek medical help when needed or to seek out programs for poor children to get Belaphorde in any form of preschool. It was church aunties and library uncles who were only allowed to help in their indirect manner, if they wanted to, that is. Marianne would never ask. She was a champion of suffering.
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“Dear mother.” Belaphorde whispered to the cold cathedral stone. “I hate you. You birthed me into hell. Look at what pitiful creatures we are.”
Belaphorde didn't want to live but could not choose death. Some nonsense Catholic logic loged deep in his pshyce. He wished to have never been born. He wished for the comfort of not ever having to exist at all. Then there would be no suffering or choice to be made. He regonized his own pathetic thoughts for someone already about and living. Once he noticed he was misrable about being misrable, he got incredibly annoyed at himself. Was misery always so infantile?
The church was beautiful, but it’s not his home. His mother was no saint. What was he even doing, staying in this city surrounded by people and circumstances that made him hate himself? There was no heroism, no salvation waiting for him if he endured more crying on the shower floor. He had received a sliver of freedom. He had money and means.
The heavy doors creeked open. A soft voice called out to him in the night. “Excuse me, sir. Would you like to step inside?”
"No, thank you. I was just leaving.” Belaphorde stood up without turning to look. The doors closed, and the church bells rang out for midnight.
Belaphorde went back to the mansion. He picked out Aegis, the Needle, and plenty of packs of cores. He packed a bag of clothes and took the bike with the most storage space. He cleaned out the nearest convenience store of food and hygiene products, then headed out for the Outskirts.