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Human Parts

by E.K. Sandoval 4 years ago in humanity
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Part II: A Family Torn

Of course, I was punished by the principal and sent home early. My mother picked me up. She hated the Forsythe's so she only acted like she was scolding me in the car. However, what she was really doing was asking me how I hit Nathan? How much did he bleed? Did he wimp like a little baby, did he try to even fight back, or did he just cringe under the pounding?

"Stop! Stop it all!" I yelled.

"Well I am so sorry, I just wanted to get into the good sport of things. The little brat deserved it, didn’t he?"

“I didn’t want to hurt him, deserving or not. I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was completely fine, all of a sudden I was mad and scared all at once. MOM, I wanted to kill him."

"Jolly good, boy, Hahahaha jooooollllyyy gooooood. You hurt him. Gave him a good womping, I'll bet. Hold on to that. Get rid of the sissy stuff. Crying is for sissies, not men.

Then my mother quieted her voice a little and almost to herself said, "Oooooh, finally something worthwhile."

I didn’t understand how she could be so heartless then. Even now I don’t understand. She is almost void of any happiness and only wears it when she hears the word “blood."

A mechanical claw jutted out to grab our skyrail car. The claw was tucked under our extendable deck that leads straight to our sky loft. As the claw retracted our car to a safe spot, we finally exited and walked onto the platform. I always kept this to myself, but I thought it was cool to see the whole skyrail and the city from this one platform. We were so high up, I believed I could fly.

My father greeted us enigmatically over his new communication device. This is so cool, this can do this, and that can do that. A whole lot of, I don’t care, was going on equally between my mother and I. He was used to it by now as he just keeps talking. We had to watch ourselves though because he has… quite… a… temper. I mean, he never usually gets frustrated right away. It’s usually a build up over time. So after five minutes or so we have to actually pretend we’re interested. It’s dumb.

Home. Built on the outside to look like your average everyday normal-looking skyscraper or corporate building; all silver and with the reflection of the sun. The inside was built to look like a 19th century colonial home with two stories and a basement. Well, part of it was colonial looking. Mainly the living area and the staircase that lead to the four post bedrooms upstairs. There were three bedrooms, the master, mine and the guest room. Which I don’t even know why we had a guest one because we never had any guests at all; not even family for that matter. I was tired of living this way, so childish, although I was a child. I think I had a wise soul. My parents were both into themselves way too much. I immediately walked past my father and mother to the staircase and sat down to cry, but I didn’t. Instead I screamed in rage and frustration. Why in the hell is my blood purple? Why? It doesn’t make any seradamned sense. Why? I couldn’t ask my parents. They would think me insane... unless I did a demonstration.

I walked from the staircase, through the swinging wooden door. Now, our living room had a couple steps leading down to it on each side with a couch setting low to the floor. Perfectly laid out as a social interaction space. When not needed for decoration or use, the couch retracted underneath the floor. There was no entertainment value; unless you were as dull as my parents or any of their friends. This space when not used as a place to chatter, was mostly used for educational study and knowledge. Kind of like a giant library, that you could pull from thin air. That, I think, was the best part of the house because when I did not want to be disturbed I would extend panels from the floor so it created four interactive walls around me, projecting all of space, if I wanted it to. Sera, I could get lost for hours studying the makings of the universe. The many stars and such. Skipping the rest about the house. I want to get to the kitchen part.

I was walking towards the kitchen, to grab the plasmeridium knife, I couldn’t believe some families did not have these knives; it was probably just the rich or well-endowed that worked with and got to take home plasmeridium. I took the knife and extended it.

"Mom! Dad! Come look! I want to show you something!"

"What? I don’t have time for this; I have work to do!"

"Right, you wanker, your father is busy and I am about to be. Sera, what you got there in your hand? Look Sevs! I think he’s got your knife."

"He’s got what?!"

As they were both looking I slit my forearm parallel to the bone so it would bleed extensively. As the blade easily cut through my flesh, I waited to see the glow once again. It never came, and my arm kept bleeding.

“Now what in hell did ya go and do that for? Your arm is bleedin' like the rivva! Is this supposed to be some kinda statement?”

“Come here, you stupid boy!”

“No, my knee at school, I swear when I got in that fight my knee glowed. And then it fixed the scratch, that’s why I don’t have any scratches on me. The glow healed me. Just watch! It will happen.”

“Ness, get him a seradamn cloth to dry the blood and heal the wound! And you come here.”

“No father. I swear. Just wait!”

“I said come here boy!” As he walked over to me, I was defiant and I felt my heart racing again like it had against Nathan. My arm started glowing and sealed up the cut. What was that?

“I told you it would happen, not a scratch on me. I told you it would go away when my arm glowed purple.”

“I said come here you stupid boy!” Thwack! He slapped me right across the face. I didn’t understand. What did I do to deserve this kind of punishment? It was absurd. Bewilderment held my face. What my father said next confused me further.

“How many people saw you at school? How many people saw?!” He said in anger.

“I don’t think anyone saw dad, I think it was just me. This means I’m invincible right? I can do anything?”

“Show me again.”


“Show me again!” Without giving me a chance to react, he took the knife and cut the knife in the same spot I had, only deeper. I instantly dripped, felt weak, and dropped to the floor.

“Why isn’t it working? Make it work now!”

That’s all I heard over and over until I faded into complete and utter blackness.


About the author

E.K. Sandoval

Hi! I'm just a guy writing about this thing we call life. I journal about my exp and struggles with mental health and life in general. I occasionally dabble in Sci-Fi and Fantasy. Stay hopeful reader and may your wildest dream come true!

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