Chapter 37

Slowly breathing Steven once again tried to plunge himself into his inner world. It was hard. Harder than Silva had described it to be. Despite the many flaws his friend had, improving her own ability and providing path forward was not one of them.

And it vexed Steven greatly because he was terrible at it. He had managed to see his inner stream, of what they had agreed upon, mana only s handful of times. Sure, it had gotten a little bit easier. Now he succeeded at least once a day, but it was nowhere the ease Silva, or for the fact, Mika, did it.

Even worse, Steven did not even know what he was doing wrong. According to, the almost pedantic, recount of how Silva did it, he was not making any mistakes. The problem here was that, while Silva had been very throughout in her explanations, it meant that she had talked for a very long time and with increasingly confusing comparisons.

Or at least, that’s how Steven saw it. Once more trying to recall what Silva had told him he tried to meditate. He went through every step with the greatest care and managed to succeed...This time. He had also set his personal best record with this being the second time today.

It was true that the feeling was marvellous. His own personal river of mana. Well, not really a river. Steven was sure that the actual size of the mana he contained was not larger than a puddle if even that. He really lacked any methods to compare it with anything else. After all, it was all in his head or body in this case.

Soon after, Steven opened his eyes. He sat in the very corner of his room. It wasn't because he felt more secure or secluded there. Not for the most part anyway. It was because this was the furthest he could sit from his parent's room. In case they decided to argue with each other, and by that Steven meant when his father would decide that it was time to yell at his mother, he would be as far away as possible from it.

It was well past midnight now. A time when most people were already sleeping. This house too was quiet and peaceful. An illusion, but a welcome one. It allowed him to practice in relative peace. If he did not let the mind wander too much he also progressed.

There was nothing special about his room. Apart from it existing as another lie. Football posters on the wall, cups from different tournaments from his earlier years were placed on a shelf. A rack of sports-related accessories and clothes. A bed, a wardrobe, table and a couple of chairs. Everything here was clean and tidy.

The thing was, while Steven didn't hate football, or sports in general, he had never liked them either. Back when he still had to fear his father's fist he had started to pretend that he did.

And the cleanness and tidiness of his room carried to the rest of the house too. The spit shine of the place made Steven sick. His mother spent almost all day zealously cleaning the house, just so that his father would find nothing out of place. This place too was a lie.

However, it all came down to the fact that he had lied to his friends weighted heavily on Steven. And the more he thought about it the more he realized that he lived a life riddled with lies.

Steven lied when he pretended to wake up in the mornings. He lied to his siblings saying that this day will be better than the last. He lied to his mother about where he went. He lied to his school friends and club members about his private life. He lied to Mika’s parents about his relationships with her.

And then he lied to his three true friends. Steven was not feeling bad about not telling everything to Benjamin. It was better for him not to know about many of the things going on in his life. But lying to Mika and Silva… That one stung badly.

But what else could he do? Tell them that he was not fine? Tell them that he found it hard to cope with what he had done? How he had taken lives? That he was insecure and afraid? That he could not concentrate on getting stronger because of the short burst of panic attacks?

Perhaps, but Steven could not bring himself to do it. He even suspected that Mika knew about his inner turmoil anyway. She was good at reading him when she wanted to. The years they had spent together were not just for show.

Thinking back to his everyday life, Steven realized that there was only one person he did not lie to regularly. His father – Markus Bran, because of the simple reason that he barely ever exchanged any words with the man. And even though Steven wished to never again see the man they had to sit at the same dinner table on most days. But in the end, the man talked at Steven, not with him. There was no need to make anything up.

On that matter, Steven hated every second of the dinners he had to spend with his family. The boisterous laughter and snide remarks made by Markus. The belittling targeted at his children. The awkward silence every time the asshole put something in his mouth and chewed, or worse when he drank anything alcohol, which had become a regular activity of his.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The siblings had learned to suffer that part of the day in silence. If a question came from Markus’s side they gave the curt ‘yes, father’ or ‘no, father’ answers. Most of the times even that was not necessary. Markus did not care about their lives, nor their opinions. After giving them a question he would just assume their answer to be whatever he wanted it to be. And it was better to not even think about going against anything that came out of Markus’s mouth or you risked to get hit.

But there also was no way to avoid these family gatherings. Steven wished he could, but he had to be there for Tristan and Margo. If he was not there to take a brunt of Markus’s unreasonable anger it would fall upon his smaller siblings.

Tristan was fourteen this year, and Margo was even younger, barely twelve. Both had inherited the same eyes as he had from their mother. Blue and clear that looked just like jewels when he gave them hope of leaving the house with him and stories of how nice it would be.

Again lies. There was no real way for Steven to bring this dream to reality. Not now. Even if he had money, which, depending on how much Aramaleo would transfer to them, could happen soon, there still was the problem with laws.

Only eighteen, with no legal income to speak of, with plenty shady night escapades over the years. Sure, Steven had tried to keep himself low and unrecognizable, but it did not always work out. And now… Now he had blood on his hands.

It did not stop Steven from fantasizing about bringing evidence of domestic violence to a court. And after a righteous fight, he would bring his brother and sister away with him. These dreams always ended when he remembered that, despite his noble goal, the way he tried to reach it was inappropriate in the eyes of society.

Again Steven felt his breath grow short. The faces of the dead man haunted him. Now joined by the monster that had almost killed them only a day ago. They circled around and laughed at him. Asking for him to join. Asking him why was he trying so hard when everything was in vain.

Shaking his head Steven stood up. The shadows still did not let go, and he felt his throat grow dry. Pinching his upper arms skin until he felt pain Steven finally managed to regain clarity of mind.

Steven once again wished that he could sleep. Perhaps the ghosts would still haunt him there, but dreams faded with time. They did not burn themselves into your eyes. Or that was how he remembered them.

The only way for Steven to close off himself from the world was to lose conciseness, but that was not easily achieved with a body like his.

Slowly Steven walked to the door, careful to not make any noise. He was certain that his parents were asleep, but he did not want to risk waking them up. For a moment he considered to just leave trough window and run to the closest, still open, shop but changed his mind. It was a bit too far and the thirst was too unbearable.

Walking through the dark house with purpose Steven duly thanked the doors for not creaking. Even if there was nothing new in this house everything was well taken care of. Another proof of his mother’s obsession at keeping this place in top condition. Or maybe she just feared of getting yelled at for wasting precious money. As if his father didn’t waste far more with his gambling addiction and alcoholism.

After getting a glass of water, Steven returned back to his room. He had managed to not wake anyone up. Or so he had thought. What he found before the door of his room was both of his siblings trying to peer behind it.

When they realized that someone was behind them they jumped and Steven with sadness noted how scared they were.

With a gesture, he motioned for them to enter his room. Whatever the reason was for their presence he would listen to it.

All three of them sat down on his bed, with Tristan next to him and Margo in his lap. Steven could tell that his siblings were nervous. Gently he started to stroke Margo’s blonde hair. Hers was a bit darker than his, while Tristan’s were brown.

It did not take long for both of the unexpected visitors to calm down. When Steven felt that they were ready to talk he finally asked for a reason for their visit.

“So, what’s up? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Steven whispered.

“Um…” Margo started

“… We wanted to see if you are here…” Tristan finished.

“Silly, why wouldn’t I be?” Steven tried to smile reassuringly.

“Because-,” Margo spoke with too much energy and quieted down immediately. “Because you never are. Not at nights.”

“That’s…” Steven froze. His mind on overdrive. “Since when?” He finally sighed. There was no point of denying. This was not the place for another lie.

“Long ago. You always left when you thought everyone is asleep. So when w-, Margo was scared we tried to find you, but…” Tristan trailed off.

It broke Steven's heart. He pulled both of his siblings into a hug. He had not thought of this. He should have known better. He was their only safe island in the middle of hostile life and he had not been there when they needed him.

“Sorry, I was…” But Steven had nothing to excuse himself with and was surprised by Margo when she spoke.

“We know. We know you are trying to find a place for us.” She sniffled in his embrace. “We didn’t want you to worry even more…”

Steven did not agree. He was their support, and he had let them down. “Don’t cry. Every time you feel sad and can’t find me just give me a call and I’ll come running.” He tried to cheer Margo up.

“We don’t want to bother you.” Tristan reasoned. His voice too was on the verge of cracking.

“You would never.” Steven ruffled his brother’s hair. “You are the most precious thing to me. I would never do let you down. So, why were they both of you skulking around my door tonight?”

“We didn’t skulk.” Margo weekly protested.

“We wanted to know if you are alright…” Tristan explained.

"I am…" Steven caught himself once again trying to tell a lie. He took a breath to correct himself. "I am not fine, but better." He gave a small smile, even though his sibling would not be able to see it. "Thank you."

And then Steven once again started to tell tales of how he was almost ready to bring them with him. That it would not be much longer until he was ready.

Soon both of his siblings fell asleep. It had been years since the last time Steven had slept with them and he didn’t have the heart to wake them up. He slowly rose up with Margo still in his arms. She grunted and shifted slightly but did not wake up.

Steven brought Margo back to her bed followed by Tristan to his. In the end, he had lied again.