Chapter 05
The sweet melodic voice played into Shadawn's thoughts as nostalgia sang memories of his childhood. The warm hugs, the affectionate kisses, the sweet murmurs, and the off-tune yet calming lullabies. The clarity of all those memories older than a decade and a half scared him. All of it played out in the claustrophobic space he called his mind, like the light-hearted music that spoke dark words he used to listen to when he had his mini mp3 player. The alluring memories that painted his childhood quickly vanished as soon as Shadawn set his eyes on the woman he once saw as a mother.
The woman that left him to fend for himself.
The woman who made his life hell.
The woman who decided she wanted his three other siblings but decided he was the one to fill his father's share of claiming the kids.
The one she did not find good enough to ever want.
The pale woman looked over at him, a puzzled expression transitioning to recognition and then shock as she stood there unresponsive for a good minute or two.
"What's he doing here"
Snapping out of his running thoughts he observed Cynthia Van Cenders.
She looked absolutely baffled to see him seated at the dining table of her house, it had been 12 years since she saw him after all.
But had she not known about his arrival today? Asithe answered both of their questions.
"We wanted to surprise you, sweetheart. I know we just spoke about it last week, but Surprising you was worth keeping this a secret"
Asithe was extremely oblivious to Cynthia's visible discomfort. She looked at Shadawn as if they had invited in to the house the devil himself.
She does not want me here after all. Why am I not surprised.
Shadawn thought as he continued glaring at her with a stone-cold hard expression that would have melted thick frosted snow.
"What's the hold up over there"
A male walked into the room carrying a couple of card board boxes. Shadawn was too concentrated on Cynthia that he did not see the look of disgust that took upon the said male's features.
Silence.
"If it isn't the lovely bastard son you lot have been dying to see."
Shadawn heard a few gasps.
"Hyacynth!"
thundered Asithe while Cynthia stood there as if silently agreeing with her eldest son.
"You know him being a bastard makes you a bastard right? I mean you share the same DNA"
Hynata quipped in angrily.
"That's not the point"
Hyacynth flustered, dragged out the chair as he sat down.
"How is that not a point?"
"It's a figure of speech dim wit"
He muttered.
"A figure of speech at least has some sort of logic behind it. Besides-"
"All right Hynata enough. We know how nonsensical Hyacinth could get. Let's just drop it, shall we? All of you?"
Yet another man walked through the doors. He was definitely related to Asithe and Nikolai, all three of them almost looked identical if it weren't for the age differences and the fact that the new man was slightly lankier with darker, almost jet-black eyes, while Nikolai and Asithe had dark brown.
He walked out again and came in with a chair. Carrying it across the dining room he placed it at the end of the table and took his seat. Shadawn slightly felt bad at occupying the man's seat, it felt like he was intruding on everything. Something as basic as seat placements was enough to emphasize the lack of belonging his presence had on their lives. He would never belong, never fit in, and never will be happy.
No one spoke. Everyone waiting for either Hyacinth, Shadawn or Cynthia to open their mouths. The atmosphere was so tense one could cut through it using a blunt butter knife.
Shadawn glaring at Cynthia. Hyacynth glaring at Shadawn. While Cynthia glanced at anything but Shadawn.
"Why don't we start eating?"
Asithe ever the diplomatic one so far, suggested attempting to break the tense atmosphere with his wise words.
"Sounds like a good idea."
Hyaté chimed in with a nervous laugh that stood out of place.
Shadawn still concentrated on Cynthia, did not take the food being offered to him by Nikolai. His eyes were zeroed on Cynthia's movements, even minor ones such as the bead of sweat that fell down her still youthful place, her blonde locks that were neatly arranged around her slim face bounced each time she slightly looked up to take in Shadawn. Each of those nervous glances were met with emotionless cold ones which in turn reflected them back away.
Finally, she decided to break the uncomfortable silence.
"Shadawn. It's nice to see you, how have you been?"
Her face equipped with a painfully fake smile penetrated through Shadawn's last straw of resistance.
She looked guilty.
"Shut the fuck up."
He scoffed rolling his eyes with obvious disgust and continued his glaring. As usual, his voice came out as soft mumbles, yet loud enough for the eerily quiet table to hear. All of them at the table had their eyes on him in a flash, shock evident on their faces at the quiet boy's sudden display of cold hostility. Cynthia's look of hurt sent a wave of satisfaction through Shadawn making him almost smile. Almost.
"THAT'S IT!"
Hyacynth suddenly stood up from his chair knocking away and falling on the floor behind him. His face was flushed red with anger that was directed at Shadawn.
"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE HUH?! "
The anger gets the better of him he slams his fists on the table using all of his body strength, making some of the dishes spill and the cutlery fall off the dining table.
The force behind the action and the sound that emanated suddenly broke Shadawn's focus off Cynthia. The loud sounds felt awfully all too familiar, and the familiar feelings of dread crept up every inch of his body.
The thumping of heavy footsteps sounded through the wooden floor.
The doors that protected him were banged against.
The clinking of glasses, laughter, shattering, voices.
More noises.
"You think ungrateful bitches like him deserve my kindness. Fuck with being nice."
Loud noises.
"I am NOT letting him get away with talking to Mum like that"
Then the harsh slam of strong fists against hard wood.
He knew all too well what came next.
Not wanting to see what happens next, Shadawn abruptly stood up in a similar fashion to Hyacynth. Turning around with his head down he ran up the stairs to his room.
No not his room.
Hyaté's room.
He had nothing.
and he never will.