Chapter 78: Alex (Part 5)

My father takes a long swig from a bottle before he exerts a long gasp and stares at me, his expression relaxed but his eyes brimming with suppressed anger. As he did so, I quickly surveyed the area around me, my sight still foggy. The three of us were inside a small bedroom, and I was lying on top of a bed with a few pillows perched against the headboard behind me.

My father was seated beside me while Zeris was on the other side of the room, staring at a couple of monitors I couldn't see, all facing away from my direction. Connected to my body were wires and patches, which I presumed were being used to stabilize my health and condition. I was also dressed in a long-sleeved red shirt and loose black trousers.

"Hailey is dead. Marissa is nowhere to be found. And although we can't confirm the health and safety of your mother, the presumption is she, like your sister, was also killed last night by an assassin from Racafi. I barely managed to get you out in time. We're currently laying low in a hideout of ours on the outskirts of the city," my father informs me before breaking out into a coughing fit, his breath reeking of alcohol.

It was only after he gave me that brief rundown that my body really was awake and my vision focused, and I noticed how beat up my father was. His nose was crooked, and the clothes he had worn out yesterday were ripped. In rags, blood streaked across their material in various splotched patterns while fresh bruises painted most of his exposed skin. Recalling the injuries I obtained, I checked my arms and legs, baffled at how they were completely unscathed and healed. Shifting my focus back to my father, I gape at his injuries, wondering if I should ask if he's alright.

Emitting a long, fatigued sigh, my father takes another swig and says, "What are you so stunned by, you piece of shit? I used what little iris I had left to heal you, so don't go thinking your father is some sorry, beat-up ol' bastard who deserves the pity of you staring too long. Cause I took down that mother f*cker after your cowardly ass couldn't take the f*cking shot."

My eyes widened as a quick slideshow of all the events from the night before suddenly flicked through in my brain. Beads of sweat started to perspire on my forehead as I began hyperventilating, reliving all the trauma I went through as every scene started simultaneously playing, overlapping, and repeating themselves at once. My memory of what happened fell into a viciously disorientating cycle, everything meshing together into one messy, blurred collage as I tried to determine if what I saw was real. Whether these were actual memories or made-up illusions.

Finishing off another long sip from his bottle, my father watches me in my panicked state for a moment with a stone-cold expression before giving me an effective slap across the face, ceasing my panic attack as my attention refocused on him and the present.

"Alex, you don't deserve the right to freak out with me here. Let me make this clear. They're dead because of you. They're dead because you didn't take the shot, you f*cking coward. I taught you how to use a gun, didn't I? What the f*ck was the point in raising and training you all these years if you don't even have the balls to save your own f*cking family?! What the f*ck is wrong with you?!"

Scratching my cheek, still delirious from everything that happened and is still happening, I'm left dumbfounded as I drop my gaze, my cheek still stinging while my head violently throbs. Suddenly, my shirt collar is grabbed, and I'm violently lifted out of bed by my father, the force of the movement stripping the wires off my body. The bottle my father was holding dropped to the floor and broke on impact, the little alcohol left inside spilling into a small puddle.

"Kane! He just woke up and is still recovering! What the hell are you doing?!" shouts Zeris as the crazed beeping of machines went haywire, his eyes darting back and forth at all the monitors.

"Just having a little family chat with my dumbass, pathetic son. Stay out of this, Zeris," calmly replies my father, his eyes glowing a thin layer of white and gold, scowling at me with rage and unforgiveness. Clawing at his hands with my own, I desperately try to remove his grasp, the edges of his knuckles pressing down on my throat more painfully by the second, making it more difficult to breathe.

"You may have physically healed him, but his mind is still in turmoil from the serum we used! He needs to rest, or there could be unknown repercussions on his mental health that medicine, or more importantly, you... won't be able to repair!" says Zeris, attempting to reason with and shut down my father's argument in one fell swoop.

"Who gives a damn? You and I both saw what happened. This brat watched his mother and sister die right before him and just stood there, trembling like a little kid, as he uselessly held up the gun, not possessing the strength nor fight to get the job done. He's already messed up enough in the head. Some discipline won't torment him any more than his own weakness will," says my father, his glare still locked onto me as the veins in his bulging bicep twitch.

Expelling a husky grunt, my father turns and pitches me like a fastball across the room and through the open doorway. My back slams against a brick wall on the far end of the connecting room, making me welp in pain as my mouth spews out saliva and blood. Sinking straight to the ground, I go down on my hands and knees as I put a hand to my chest, struggling to inhale oxygen while my splitting headache worsens.

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"Get up," orders my father, his heavy footsteps walking toward me.

"S-sir…" I stutter, fearful of what will happen if I don't do as I'm told. Forcing my body to move, I climb back to my feet, blood trickling out of the side of my mouth.

He then socks me right in the gut, and I crumple back over.

"Again."

A blaring white noise rang through my ears as if I had just been stunned by a grenade, but I still heard my father's demand so clearly. Blood dripping out of my mouth, I weakly stand back up again.

After my father delivers another strike, this time to the right side of my face, I see fading stars as I fall back over, blood splattering onto the ground.

"Again."

My face smothered with my own blood, I once again do as I'm told. Standing there with my knees shaking, I wait, terrified of the incoming attack, only able to guess where it might land next.

And this time, he sends a barbaric kick to my crotch. The force of the assault made me do a double take as I toppled back on the ground, short-winded. Quickly turning to my side, I vomited whatever medicine they fed me before rolling back over, collapsing as I shriveled up into a ball.

"Again."

Wearily opening my eyes, I look at my father standing beside me, waiting.

"Sss-s-sir. Please-" I beg, the forced compulsion to speak causing me to vomit again.

"Again," my father repeats, unwavering.

"I- I- I… sir. I…" I gasp, the overwhelming terror of punishment for disobeying him settling in. Through sheer will alone, I, once more, find myself standing. Making eye contact with my father, my eyes practically begging him to stop, he still doesn't display any hint of giving mercy.

So, as I watched him reel back his fist for another strike, the overwhelming fear of what I knew would come quickly morphed into unrelenting rage. Taking a step toward my father, I swung my fist with as much vigor as I could rally. Striking him across the face, my fist lurches in pain from the impact while my father is forced a step back.

Heavily panting, I spit out some blood as I carefully observed my father, practically dying from the unknown of knowing what was coming next. Lifting his gaze as he wiped his arm across his chin, my father’s eyes narrowed, and his expression was grim. He then lunged forward, pinning me against the brick wall behind me before I even had the chance to react. Coughing up more blood, my father drives his forearm into my neck, making it impossible to move.

"So you thought just because I got a couple of leftover bruises… you could stand up to me, huh, boy? Promise you this, it doesn't matter what happens to me... I'll always be able to kick your ass. Don't you forget that," he tells me, the hoarseness from his throat adding an unusual raspiness to his familiar deep voice.

He then drives his knee into my gut, making me cough up more blood and saliva. He patiently waits until I get my breathing somewhat under control before continuing.

"But it seems you have some fight in you after all. Too bad you couldn't do what a man is supposed to do when it came to protecting your goddamn family. I know you don't give a damn about me, which means you let the only two people you care about die on your watch. I told you that when I leave… you become the man of the house! I told you that if there's danger… you protect them! I told you... if it meant you had to… you even die for them! So tell me, why are you the only one still alive?!" my father demands, his face just inches away from mine, the stench of his breath making me queasy.

"S-s-sir… I-"

He gestures his hand quickly through the air, motioning for silence, and I instantly hold my tongue. He then leans forward and whispers in my ear, the thick hairs of his white beard prickling the side of my face.

"There is no right answer because you're a f*cking coward. You wanted to save your own skin. That's all it is. Which means deep down, you care about your own life more than the lives of your mother and sister. That isn't the man I raised. You were raised and trained to be something greater, but all you are… is a failure. A god damn, f*cking failure."

He returns to the front of me, and I don't know what to think. I can only look. I can only look… at him.

"That’s all you are, Alex. A f*cking coward, You’re worthless. You’re a f*cking failure of a man. A f*cking failure of a brother. A f*cking failure of a son. And a f*cking failure of a person,” says my father and it takes everything I have not to avert my gaze.

Fighting back the will to react in any way, I refused to show any kind of emotional reaction to my father. The two of us stared at one another for as long as he deemed necessary until he finally lowered his arm, releasing me. Falling to my knees and regaining the ability to breathe again properly, I jumped on the opportunity, gasping for as much air as possible before potentially being pummeled again.

"Get some rest. Because starting tomorrow, you're no longer attending the academy. I'm taking over, and I'm going to forge you into a man strong enough to finally be able to stand on his own two goddamn feet," says my father, and then I hear his footsteps slowly walk out of the room.

Only after I was sure he was gone did the tears begin to shed. Slamming my fists repeatedly into the ground, I cursed at myself, wishing things could be different. But more importantly, I didn't only shed tears for what I wanted but also for what I needed. Picturing my sister clutching Bumble, with that goofy grin across her face, and then the warmth of my mother's embrace, I only start crying harder.

I miss them. I need them.

Because without them, I have no purpose in this world.