SHORT BACKSTORY FOR KREE!!
TWs: Child abuse, Dead animals, Horror, Violence. Please proceed with Caution.
Avonin was not a killer. He never had been. He was the type that told stories of sobbing his eyes out because he’d stepped on a ladybug. But despite this, he found himself with three things:
A knife.
A bloodied hand.
And a corpse.
Something that was almost too much to bear- and so Avonin’s attention drew to the shadows, panning across the corrugated walls, their forms bumping along with the ridges of the steel. Slowly, their movements slurring together, they approached. Until their presence was something that wasn’t confined just to the shadows, but the prickles on the back of his neck, a firm hand on his shoulder. Something he couldn’t deny. It tethered him, whether he wanted to be or not, back to the real world.
“Avonin Silverring.”
He looked up, brown eyes glistening under the candlelight. The figure’s eyes looked back, one eyebrow raised, a blank, unreadable expression. Avonin felt his entire world stop- his heart, his lungs, time itself. Everything hung in the air. He glanced at his brother beside him, brows furrowed with anxiety.
His attention was jolted back to the figure, who raised one hand up, causing Avonin to brace, his body shivering, eyes shut tight, almost as if he could will himself out of existence. But he couldn’t- and so he stood there, knuckles whitening by the second. And then down it came. Something that had happened a thousand times before, yet he was never quite ready for- crashing through the air, a strong hand plummeted towards him.
I knew it- frantic thoughts darted across his mind, none quite reaching the surface, but still swirling, a nonsensical whirlpool between reality and something that wasn’t quite fiction. He’d called this. He’d seen it coming long before it ever happened. He knew this plan would fail, he knew he’d get hurt, he knew his dad would be mad and his brother would hate him, and everything would fall apart and-
It didn’t hit him.
Instead, it grasped the bloodied corpse in his hands. It dangled from his father’s grip, swaying sickeningly from side to side. Avonin felt his stomach swirl and the taste of bile simmer in the back of his mouth but swallowed quickly. His father’s brow furrowed for a moment, eyes tracing from the bloodied knife to the corpse. Then he threw his head back, letting out a loud, sinister laugh.
“You caught this?” He cackled in disbelief, shoving the furred corpse into Avonin’s face. The smell of blood and rotting flesh clouding his senses.
Avonin recoiled quickly, tightening his grip on the knife.
“My weak, incompetent, coward of son, killed a full-grown hare? Bullshit.”
“He did!” Adryn interjected frantically, sending a quick, desperate glance to Avonin. “He did, I swear he did, I saw it! Aren’t you proud? His first kill, dad!”
“Proud?” He laughed; eyes desolate of expression. “Why would I be proud. You were killing deer at half his age, and he’s only now catching up? I’m disappointed, Avonin.” He turned his head to meet Avonin’s eyes, as the young boy felt his heart fall in his chest, ribs clawing at him from the inside out.
Just as Avonin felt his eyes glaze over, and he began to slip into the depths of his mind, once again, his father raised a hand threateningly into the air. But this time, instead of being turned to Avonin, the strike landed across Adryn’s cheek. Yet he stood, unfalteringly, unphased, barely reacting as his father scowled, exiting the room.
Moments like this, moments were Adryn stood with no reaction to his father made Avonin bubble with jealousy. Somehow, despite the pain, despite the hurt, despite being screamed at and put down, Adryn still stood. No reaction. Something Avonin wished he could do. He wished he could stop these stupid fat tears rolling down his small, soft cheeks. He wished he could fight back, shout back, scream. But instead of being strong, and unfaltering, he was a shattered vase. As fragile as glass, when all he wanted was to be like his brother.
The second his mother left behind him, Adryn exploded towards Avonin, grasping his cheeks to turn his head, eyes scanning frantically across his face. Avonin squirmed, pushing out of Adryn’s grip. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He muttered, looking up at his brother, who’s cheek blossomed with a soft red, already swirling with purple and yellow, threatening to surface. “You’re the one who got hit, Adryn.” Avonin stammered, tears welling in his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter, okay?” Adryn spat, pulling a protesting Avonin back into his embrace. “It wasn’t you this time. He bought it….kind of.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. You could have just said you’d killed it….then we wouldn’t have lied. If he finds out, we’re-“
“No. He won’t find out.” Adryn countered, eyes drifting from Avonin to the door. He bit his lip, taking a deep breath, before continuing. “All that matters is you’re okay, okay?” Avonin felt Adryn’s grip tighten on the back of his head, as if he could shield him from everything just passed, and pulled him tighter into his embrace.
Avonin’s eyes danced around the room, tracing the corrugated walls, the loose screws that barely held everything together. He traced a trail of blood along the floor, following it to the hare’s corpse that sat lifelessly on the table. It’s piercing dead eyes stared right at him, sending a chill down his spine. He didn’t like the thought of death- but despite this, his future was filled with many dark things: A new name, a new life, and many, many more corpses.
And so, he set his jaw, shuffling into Adryn’s embrace.
“Okay.”