Chapter Seven

"Ugh, my life is absolute misery!"

"Oh, Levonia, I'm so sorry."

"Of all the artificials, why did I have to get stuck with him?"

I glanced up sideways to see three guardians standing at the head of the classroom, clustered together with looks of utter disgust as they glanced in my direction. Upon making eye contact, they all looked away quickly and hushed their voices as they continued to gossip like a bunch of fucking chickens.

At six in the morning, I woke up to Guardian Levonia snatching my arm up in a bruising grip and thrusting me from the bed to coldly inform me that she was going to take over as my personal guardian. She proceeded to drag my ass to class before throwing me at a desk and going to her friends to bitch and moan about the rotten awful shithead kid she got stuck with. I would've felt sorry for her, if I gave a shit.

I looked down at the bruise climbing my arm where my guardian had grabbed me. A funny purple and red with a dark center. I decided to use those colors in my coloring book as I scribbled frantically at the lines that meant absolutely nothing to me as a four-year-old.

"Stop that, you little brat," Guardian Levonia snarled, storming over to snatch me up by my arm again, giving me a violent shake, "You're not leaving enough crayons for the others! That's so incredibly selfish of you!" Furious, I stuck my tongue out at her, yanking at her grip and she gasped in a flurry of anger and settled for backhanding me so my head snapped back. Guardian Marie hurried over first while Guardian Ari watched with an open mouth.

"Levonia," Guardian Marie hissed, coming over to touch her arm, "Calm down. If the other guardians caught you, you know what would happen." Guardian Levonia sucked in sharp angry gasps, roughly letting go of my arm as I rubbed my cheek where she'd hit me.

"Besides," Marie muttered dryly as she cast me a disdainful sneer, "You don't know what he's capable of yet. You know there's something wrong with those artificials." Guardian Levonia glared at her, then down at me as I thrust my chin up defiantly. She curled her lip.

"That's it. I'm requesting reassignment," she snapped, shrugging her friend off and stepping away from me, "I can't take this anymore. He's such a fucking little monster. Look at him. He's hardly a child."

"They're all monsters," Guardian Marie snorted, then sighed, "And you know they won't reassign you again, not while your husband works in this sector. Just suck it up, hon. Besides, you could get lucky. He might not even survive puberty at the rate he's going." Meaning the other kids hated me as much as they did, because if it wasn't the guardians slapping me around, it was the other kids.

I narrowed my eyes and turned them on the other side of the room where the other kids were playing together. A couple caught me watching and smirked, turning to their friends to whisper and giggle.

Come at me, assholes.

And, of course, they did.

As soon as the guardians ducked out for a refill on their coffee, four older kids descended upon me and I ended up flat on my face, heaving for breath as I struggled to hoist myself up for another round. Blood poured from my nose and I was dizzy as fuck, but I wasn't going to give up. Not that easily. I pushed myself up on trembling arms, only for a foot to connect with my head and for a moment, I was sure I was dead. Everything went dark. Breathing grew more and more difficult until I was choking and realized I was choking on blood.

I heard the voices of the kids around me, all whispering and laughing, until someone's shout cut through the cacophony of delight. One second I was laying on the floor of the classroom and in the next, I was in the med room with Guardian Levonia frantically running around with me in her arms while Guardian Marie and Guardian Ari joined her in a flurry.

"Oh god, he's dying," Levonia blubbered, not that she gave a shit about me personally, but rather, what the Mother would do if she found out they'd let me be killed, "Oh god, I'm so fucked, guys, I'm so fucked! I'm at strike two! This will be equal to three more strikes! Do you have any idea what they do to people who hit even three strikes alone? Oh god! What about Bernie? What about Dahlia? Oh fuck--"

"Levonia," Marie barked suddenly and grabbed her by the arms, shaking her even with me dangling from her arms, "Shut up and listen to me right now!" Levonia choked and sobbed some more, then tearfully looked at her as Marie grabbed her face now.

"Listen to me," Marie ordered sternly, "Put him down."

"What?"

"Put him on the floor and walk away."

"W-What? No, what if--"

"Nobody has to know," Marie said coldly, making Levonia sniffle and blink owlishly, "Just put him on the floor. If he's meant to live, the medics will come. If he dies, well, I suppose that solves one of your many, many problems, girl. So just set him down--" Instead of gently setting me on the floor, Levonia immediately dropped me and I could only manage a strangled choke as I hit the floor, my vision flashing to black again. Through the haze and fuzz of oncoming death, I heard Levonia sniffle and sob a little more while Ari and Marie tried to console her as they made their way out of the med room.

I laid on the cold tiles, blinking and trying to revive my vision as I gasped for air. My lungs were aching from lack of oxygen, my vision was nothing, but darkness. The only sounds I heard were the soft hums of electricity and the sound of the guardians faded as they shut the door and left me there to die on the floor.

I felt like a fish gasping for air, trying to find some level of strength to heave myself up to my feet, but I was far too weak. I blinked a few times and my vision returned, but very hazy and fuzzy.

"Oh... Oh, my poor sweet baby." A woman's voice. I blinked and tried to clear my vision, but I couldn't see through the film of haze and could only make out a blonde female who was incredibly tall standing over me. I couldn't see much of her, except a blurry figure of black and white, but there seemed to almost be some kind of holy glow around her.

Oh, I realized miserably. I'm dead.

That's not fair.

That's just not fair.

"My precious..." I watched the figure kneel down and I felt slender, but strong arms scoop me up and lift me off the floor. I sighed in relief to be away from that cold hard floor. I turned my head in against the figure who seemed to almost be cradling me.

"Will you let me save you, sweetheart? Will you repay me with your life? Your devotion? Your worship?" She murmured as she cradled me. I simply nodded, because I had no idea what the fuck this person was saying. I was four-years-old and dying.

A sharp pain cracked through my chest and I gasped sharply.

My eyes flew open and I shot up. I looked around as cold sweat poured down my face. I blinked rapidly, scanning my surroundings because for a brief moment, I forgot where the fuck I was. As my memory returned, depression began to take root in my gut again as I recognized the absurd luxury of the Hadiferian clan. Or whatever the fuck those idiots called themselves.

Grimacing, I reached up to rake a hand through my sweat soaked hair, then drew it back to look down at my long skinny ass fingers. I shoved the blankets back and threw my legs over the side of the bed. Instead of immediately jumping to my feet and making a run for it, I wobbled onto my feet and hobbled to the bathroom for a piss. I glanced at the side mirror, cringing at the sight of myself before I looked back down into the toilet.

Fuck.

It'd been a month since I'd arrived in Hacian, under the ever watchful eye of the Hadiferian clan. In that span of time, I'd learned to at least drink liquids, including soup and very soft vegetables and fruit. All of which tasted like absolute shite. Nothing tasted good anymore. It was all ash in my mouth at this point. Just a necessary evil in order for me to leave this fucking prison, something that didn't look like it was happening soon and while a part of me was infuriated by the concept, wanted to fight to get out of here and go on a rampage, there was a strange heaviness in my gut that kept me from doing basically fucking anything.

Depression, Ryk had told me simply.

I curled my lip and slammed the toilet lid down.

Depression. Me. Depression.

So now not only was I too weak to even lift a fucking spoon, but I was also apparently too weak to convince myself to pursue vengeance. Disgusted with myself, I left the bathroom and looked at the clock on the nightstand by the bed. It was three in the morning, but I was not going back to sleep. That's all I'd done for a whole fucking month. Sleep, shit, shower, try to eat. I was tired of laying in bed. It was almost like I was giving into that depression that coaxed me back to bed to lay there and thrash in my sleep.

I shook my head and left the room quietly. I stepped outside into the hallway, pausing to see if anyone was going to jump out of nowhere and come tackle me to the ground or some shit. Not a single soul was in the dimly lit hallway, much to my relief.

I took my time, not on purpose of course, down the hallway toward the small kitchen. I had no idea how to make myself food, but Ryk had told me it was good exercise for a small snack, so whatever.

I entered the tiny kitchen, but instead of searching for food, I settled for just sitting at the little table and chairs in the middle of the room.

Fuck, I thought miserably, reaching up to rub at my face.

My plan had been to wait for the right moment and take off again, but I couldn't even muster that. Just going to the bathroom felt like a workout and I was exhausted. Every little thing took an incredible amount of effort and it was infuriating. I had gone from being able to flip a grown troll on his back in one swing to unable to piss without passing out.

How the fuck was I supposed to find the asshole who did this to me and make him pay? What was I gonna do, make him do belly rolls while I flounder around on the floor in a pool of my own piss?

"Fuuuuck," I growled, clenching my fists before slamming them down on the table. I cursed at the pain that erupted in my hands and I slammed them down again out of spite. I gritted my teeth and pressed my fists down against the table. The rage was hot under my skin, almost itchy, but what the fuck could I do about it? I could already see bruises forming on my hands where I'd hit the table. I wiped my hands down my face and glared down at the table as I tried to go over what had been done to help me in the past month, if anything at all.

It'd been two weeks since the infamous Joxeia had shown his face around there parts.

Now that was one twisted fucker.

The day he'd arrived, I'd been finishing up a shower before dragging my heavy, exhausted carcass back to my room, only to pull up short when I saw someone sitting in the armchair across from my bed. I immediately stiffened and backed up against the doorframe of the bathroom, holding my towel in front of me.

The person in the armchair was... weird looking. I said person, because I had no fucking idea if this creature was male or female or whatever species. Just that they had a weird angelic appearance, what with their snow white hair that fell from a high ponytail, and their eyes that strangest shade of pinkish-red. Some kind of albino, whatever they were. Their skin was pale and smooth, almost like a doll's, and their outfit was so perfectly tucked and neatly styled it was like the fucker just crawled out of a fashion magazine or something.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded immediately, gripping the doorframe. The creature cocked its head, its expression calm and serene.

"My name is Joxeia," it responded with a deep masculine voice that completely threw me off. I blinked a few times, then scowled. That name sounded familiar... Joxeia? Wasn't that the name of the person Hades and Lucifer kept mentioning would come and talk to me? I curled my lip, giving the creature a disinterested stare.

"You're Joxeia?" I asked, unimpressed as I went back to drying off my hair. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the fucker's lips twitch, like he was amused. I had no idea what I said that was so fucking funny.

"Please, family calls me Jo," he replied, making me blink and look up to see him tilting his head slightly to peer at my face, "You are family, after all." I snorted, going to the bed to snatch up a loose fitting t-shirt that I pulled on over my head.

"Oh, please," I muttered, "I swear you people are like a broken record. Drop the family bullshit and get to the point why you're here." Joxeia smiled pleasantly, not at all pissy about my attitude, which was... weird. Normally this short of a conversation was enough for people to realize they fucking hated me and wanted to punch me in the throat. This guy looked like he was so calm and relaxed and having a jolly good time. I rolled my eyes at that as I stooped to yank on a pair of sweatpants that barely stayed on my skinny ass waist. Gritting my teeth and jerking my shirt down to hide the peek at my underwear, I jerked my head up to pin Joxeia with an impatient stare. He gestured to the seat across from him. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but said nothing as I walked over and sat down in the armchair as far away from him as possible.

"Hades called me," Joxeia informed, making me give him a droll stare as I picked at my fingernails, or what was left of some of them, "He says you're having trouble adjusting to the world outside your compound, outside the trauma you've experienced while you were there." I looked up, annoyed.

"I didn't experience trauma at the compound, asshole, it was someone else. Someone tortured me or whatever and I don't remember any of it."

"You don't remember a single thing?" Joxeia inquired. I glared at him over my hands to see him watching me without a smile or single expression. He was so blank now. I cocked my head.

"Why do you give a shit about that anyway? How is that gonna help me get strong enough to kill the guy who tortured me?" I asked instead. Joxeia smiled again.

"Trauma has a way of being like a tar pit. You may have got out of the tar pit, but there's lingering tar on your legs and feet, making it difficult to move forward. I'm here to help you clear that up so you can continue forward on your epic journey of self-discovery... and revenge," he replied. I snorted.

"What are you, a head doctor? Aren't you supposed to tell me revenge isn't worth it and I should frolic in the sunset with my so-called family?" I asked. Joxeia chuckled, surprising me as he shifted comfortably and leaned back in his seat.

"By head doctor, I assume you mean therapist, which yes. I suppose you could call me that," he mused, then shook his head and leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, "As for why I'm not discouraging your revenge, I am no hypocrite. I sought revenge for years." I frowned.

"You look okay," I said, referring to the fact that his revenge clearly didn't tear his life apart because he was still sitting here like a pompous asshole dressed like a diva. Joxeia laughed suddenly, making me blink, then stiffen as I realized something. I cursed and immediately drew to my mind the image of a peach, which only made Joxeia laugh a little more.

"I'm sorry," Joxeia said, making me curl my lip, "Normally I don't hear my clients' thoughts, but yours are so loud. It's like sitting in a movie theater when you're trying to read a book."

"I don't like people fucking with my head," I snapped, moving to rise to my feet. Joxeia waved at me.

"I'm not," he assured, gesturing for me to stay sitting, "Like I said, your thoughts are loud. Plus, your face is so expressive that you don't need to be a mind reader to know what you're thinking. It's actually quite cute." I looked at him weirdly, but slowly sat down and I wasn't entirely sure why. Normally I would've told this guy to fuck off and die, maybe even give him a good beating, but of course, my body wasn't even going to make it to his armchair before I fell and then there was the fact that this guy was... kind of interesting. I'd never had anyone say anything I did was cute.

That was a compliment, right?

Or was he trying to be cute and cheeky?

"Let's start with some simple introductions," Joxeia said after a moment, making me raise an eyebrow, "I've told you my name and I've told you we're family. I'm your uncle through Xiphrus, who is Rowan's father, who is Hades's father, in a way. I live on Olympus with my husband, Zeus. I'm also the father of your friend, Six."

"We're not friends," I snorted, making Joxeia smile lightly, "I don't have any friends."

"Not even back at the compound?"

"No. Why the fuck would I need friends? They'd get in the way."

"Get in the way of what?" Joxeia asked. I frowned. In the way of my revenge, in the way of my career, and just in general in my fucking way. I remembered watching Six and Three constantly hanging out and thinking that that was way too much exposure for me. Three got annoying real quick with his stupid jokes and his teasing and his games. Six wasn't so bad, but I wouldn't call him a friend. More like a classmate that didn't annoy me.

"So when am I getting out of here?" I asked. Joxeia shrugged.

"Depends on when you want to get out of here."

"Right the fuck now."

"Where would you go?"

"Obviously go find the guy who tortured me and kill him."

"And then what?"

"Die, probably," I snorted, "The Mother isn't going to approve of me running off. Once she finds out where I'm at, and that's if the guy who tortured me doesn't kill me in the process of me killing him, she'll send her people and they'll either kill or be killed."

"That's a lot of death and destruction to look forward to."

"Thus is the life of a soldier," I responded. Joxeia nodded.

"So you consider yourself a soldier?"

"Of course. I spent my whole fucking life training for it."

"When did you start?"

"I just said. My whole fucking life. From the moment I could hold my head up," I retorted, then shook my head and folded my arms over my chest, "What? Are you expecting me to spill details about how the Mother works and how she trains her people so you can get the jump on her? Sorry, not sorry, but that shit's staying where it belongs. With me. To my grave."

"Your loyalty is admirable," Joxeia commented, making me frown, "She must truly be something of a marvel if you're willing to lay down your life for her." I averted my eyes, feeling this nagging sensation in the back of my head. That little voice that assured me the Mother wouldn't care about my loyalty. I'd stepped foot off the property without her permission. I was destined to die. She would send a bounty hunter, someone like me, to fetch my head. If she did it now, I'd be dead and my head would be delivered to her feet.

Loyalty to the Mother. The mantra has been hammered into our skulls since we were young. The Mother did anything and everything for us. She gave us food, shelter, purpose, strength. All that one needed to survive this shithole we call a life. There was nothing beyond that. And given what she'd done for me in the past, I thought yeah. That was a good deal. Make me strong. Give me meaning. And I would give you my loyalty... to an extent.

Because I wasn't a dumb blind sheep and I realized it the moment I saw Seven dangling in that room, drugged out of his mind because I thought that would be enough to protect him from the torture, but it fucking wasn't. Every time I'd been forced to go into that room, Seven was either sobbing or screaming. I drew a line there. The Mother wasn't doing this to fuel her goals. She was doing it to punish Seven for disobeying her and there was no other reason for it.

And fuck yeah, Seven deserved to be punished for disobeying the only person who'd ever fed him.

But he didn't deserve to suffer.

So yeah. My loyalty had limitations.

And that was more than enough for the Mother to bring the guillotine down on my head.

"Do you love her?" Joxeia asked suddenly. I blinked, then scowled at him.

"Who? The Mother?" I asked. Joxeia inclined his head. I snorted.

"No," I assured, then frowned. Did I even know what that meant? Did I love her? Wasn't that something you reserved for whoever you were fucking? Love? The idea was almost laughable if I wasn't so offended by his question.

"Then why do you give her your loyalty?" Joxeia asked. I stared at him.

"She created me."

"And that you deem worthy of your loyalty?"

"I figure it's not smart to bite the hand that feeds you," I replied dryly. Joxeia smiled.

"Wise," he commented, then looked down at something on his wrist before he looked up, "Thank you for giving me some of your time. I enjoyed speaking with you today. I'm going to leave to give you some time to think about what we've discussed so far."

"What did we even talk about?" I asked.

"Think about it," Joxeia answered, making me scowl. I watched him get up, straighten his cardigan, then vanished in a soft wisp of smoke. I narrowed my eyes.

So this is who they brought in. Someone to fuck with my head. Someone to get to the bottom of the business with the Mother. Someone who'd be able to read me like a book, which kind of pissed me off. I stayed because he was interesting, and because it was better to know my enemy, but I didn't like that this fucker could read my mind. It meant I had to be more careful about what I let myself think, more careful of what I said and spoke about.

Because even if the Mother did send an assassin after me, she could at least be sure I hadn't spoken to the enemy in detail of her and her plots.

The question was, how long before the Mother felt threatened by my disappearance?

Looked like it wasn't just one enemy out there, but thousands.

Fuck.