Swordfall

Three

"Your mother and I will NOT accept this kind of behaviour. You are not to leave the castle under any circumstances until you've learnt to fight, boy! Do you understand me?! If you can't beat a girl, you won't ever succeed at anything in life. You are a trainwreck. I'm ashamed to call you my son."
"But dad-"
"SHUT UP!"
"IT WASN'T MY FAULT!" Ares shot back, every word loaded with venom. He immediately regretted saying anything. His dad had a set of rules that everyone in his family were to follow:
1) Never disobey direct orders.
2) Do not disrespect the man of the house.
3) Always ask the man of the house for permission before doing anything.
4) Only speak when you are spoken to.
There was Ares, breaking half of those rules. He knew there would always be consequences for his actions. His dad's hand curled into a fist and before he had any chance to defend himself, his father's hand had met his pale face. Blood started to crawl out of his nose, which his hand flew up at the speed of lightning to cover. "Perhaps next time you'll learn that you are never to lose your battles, especially when it's against a woman, because now I'm going to have to deal with things the hard way. You are weak." His dad left the room with fire blazing off every inch of his skin. "Come on, mum..." Ares said with a flicker of hope. She dropped her head and followed her husband into the hallway.

Ares swallowed hard in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat as he got up to go to the bathroom. He stared back fiercely at his reflection, that seemed to appear less and less familiar by the second. His deep, azure eyes filled up with salty tears. People always told him his eyes were like oceans, and he could never see it. Only now they were filling with water, could he begin to understand what they meant. His ash-black hair rested on top of his head quietly, except for the singular blonde strand that screamed and shouted, begging for attention. He bore a row of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. His jawline was sharp enough to cut paper, and his skin was the palest shade his family had ever seen. A scar ran down his cheek, starting at his eyebrow. It looked somewhat strange, but he couldn't imagine himself without it. Not that he'd want to, anyway. It was a reminder of an extremely important battle he'd had once. He remembered the event as if it were a vivid dream from the night before: stabbing his own brother then watching him struggle for life.

Before long, he'd started picking apart everything he didn't like about himself. Maybe his dad was right: he was a failure, a disappointment, and he'd never be good enough. A single tear escaped from his eye and he was swift to wipe it away. He stood there, feeling nothing but anger and hate, towards his parents, towards Enyo, towards the world, towards himself. His hand struck the mirror as it smashed into smithereens, the debris left scattered in the sink and on the floor. It was then, at that moment, everything just stopped. He watched as blood trickled from his hand too now, but he felt nothing, and that was what he was most afraid of in this world.