Read Online The Rise of the Phoenix by Mason Sabre - Free Book Online Page B

the boy and giving away his hiding place. He squinted at the light, even though he didn’t need to. Not anymore. Yet, it was something he was used to doing.  His father staggered over to him, his fist clenched. He had something in his hand. The boy sucked in a tremulous breath and waited.
    “You left something behind,” his father said. He held out his clenched fist and unfurled his fingers. A broken and crushed rose lay there. He turned his hand over, letting the fragments fall to the floor, the crushed petals scattering in the darkness.
    “I…”
    Thick hands cut his words off as they grabbed both sides of the boy’s jacket and yanked him from his seat. His feet dangled off the floor as his father brought him up with no effort at all until their faces were inches apart. The reek of whiskey and cigars pitted inside the boy’s nose and mouth, and he did everything he could not to show a reaction. He felt pressure in his groin as his bladder threatened to give way on him. His Wolf rose inside. The skin on his arms tingled and his eyes suddenly blurred. The hunger in his stomach churned with sickening emptiness. Suddenly he was falling...no, he was flying. The world moved in slow motion around him as he was hurled backwards through the air. Glass smashed and something thudded and crashed as his head and back hit the glass cabinet, shattering it to pieces. The breath exploded from his lungs and pain stabbed through him. His heart lurched as he watched his mother’s favourite vase topple sideways. He reached for it, ignoring the tearing in his back. It bounced off his hand and fell to the ground with a loud crash as it smashed to pieces.
    “Not happy with killing your mother, now you smash her things?” his father bellowed.
    “No, no. I… I…” Sobbing, he shuffled meekly along the floor sideways, lifting his arms up to protect himself. Glass bit into his palms as he tried to scurry away, but his father was faster. He was big. His fists came crashing down, slamming into his cheek. The boy fought tears. They blurred his vision until the tears finally betrayed him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he begged. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was so fast. I’d change it if I could. Please…”
    His father grabbed his arm, his thin fingers digging in through the suit he still wore. He lifted him up, but the boy’s sore legs threatened to give way beneath him.
    “My wife is dead because of you,” his father spat at him. “It should have been you. You bring shame on this family. You make us all outcasts like you. You make people look at us, not with sympathy, but that look, because we have a creature for a child now. You are not my child any longer. Do you hear me? I will never accept you as my son.” His father struggled with the words. Forced out every letter. His eyes glistened, but his face was twisted in anger. “You are just a creature that looks like him.”
    The boy stood there like stone, his heart tearing inside with icy pain. He had stopped breathing without realising. His father let go of his arm and the boy collapsed onto the floor. He stared up at his father with huge, pleading eyes. “Please, Dad,” he whispered. His father turned his back on him as if he hadn’t spoken.
    The boy watched his father leave the room and listened to his footsteps as they climbed up stairs. He could hear everything now. His hearing seemed to increase by the day. He heard his father crashing about. Probably to get more drink, the boy supposed. When he heard no more sounds, the boy reached for an old newspaper, unfolded it and began to wrap the broken fragments of the vase in it. Tears fell down onto them. He allowed them when no one could see. They dropped onto the print and it began to smudge. When he heard footsteps coming back, he held his breath to make the tears stop.
    He quickly stuffed the wrapped vase into the waste paper basket. He could clear it up afterwards, when his father was sleeping. Bury it in her