Father slapped Mother so hard that she fell onto the shrine. The plate holding her rune fell onto the carpeted floor where a pile of bone charms laid.
Mother looked back angrily. "You hit me!" she shouted. "You hit me because of that woman!"
"That woman is my wife! I can't believe you did... This!" Father spat, gesturing at the shrine in its hidden room and shaking his head.
Mother whipped around and pointed angrily at Father. "You promised me that you will bring us home. You told me that we can live together. That that bitch didn't matter. I waited. Waited for years. I beared your child I raised him up alone!"
Mother wasn't crying like how she used to cry in front of the shrine quietly. She was hysterical. She picked up the pair of the scissors from the shrine. It was used to pray for good business for her tailoring job. She stomped to Father with it.
"You want to end this? I'll end this for you. I'll kill you, I'll kill our son then I'll join you both in hell!"
Mother swiped the scissors at Father and he grabbed her hand just in time before she got what she wanted. They fought against each other; Father pushed Mother back and Mother struggled to put the blade of the scissors to his throat. The candle lights shook as they danced around the room in the struggle. The shadows on the wall depicted two pathetic souls scratching the walls as if trying to climb out the depths of hell.
Then suddenly, one of the shadows fell, disappearing from the stage. Mother crawled on the floor towards Father. The man looked at her horrified, blood streaming down his arm from the scissors he held in his hand. Mother grabbed her throat, choked and gasped. She crawled another step, looking up at Father.
"Help me," she gasped. "... Son."
Mother turned her head around to face me, almost too much of an angle, like an owl turning its head upside down. She just looked at me, her mouth open, her bloody hand still over her slit throat. Mother gurgled and groaned unhumanly, blood spilling out of her throat as Father and Son watched her life flow into nothing. She begged for help but the words couldn't find its way out of her mouth. Tears flowed down the corner of her bloodshot eyes. Her mouth opened and closed continuously. She grabbed me by my ankle. I looked down and watched her bloody hand clawing into my skin desperately. Her bracelet, made of whale bone, was drenched in blood as well.
"... What have I done..." Father whispered, shocked at the turn of events. "I didn't mean to kill her! I-I just wanted to stop her," he rambled fearfully and looked at me for my acknowledgement. Father ran to me and held my arms, squeezing it tightly. "You saw it! It was an accident! An accident!"
"How much longer before she finally dies?"
A new voice. An unfamiliar voice.
I blinked and saw it. Floating platforms. Numerous corridors and stairs. Some leading to somewhere, some leading to nowhere. The end and the beginning. The afterlife realm. Somehow, it's easy to understand. It's easy to know where I am.
I stood up. Father was gone. I looked down at my ankle. Mother wasn't grabbing it anymore. She just laid in front of me, face down. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't crying. She wasn't struggling. I stepped back away from her slack grasping hand which fell onto the ground with a soft thump. It was so quiet.
"Your mother is dying."
I turned around and a young man stood behind me. His black eyes stared down at me. He wore a brown coat and blue pants, his clothes cleaner than anyone that I've seen. Even cleaner than Father's suit. His black boots were bright and untainted.
"Cath Alderdice," he said. "Your father betrayed his wife and his mistress. Your mother dies by his hands. Soon, your blood will be on your father's hands too." The young man bent down to look at me even closer. "And yet, you looked on, void of fear. What are you trying to hold back?"
My left hand trembled vigorously. It shook so hard that I tried to hold it still with my other hand. Then I felt a burst of energy and heat, and watched as the Mark etched over the back of my hand gradually but painfully. I gritted my teeth to try to bear it and felt blood rushing to my face as I grunted from the now blinding pain.
"A smile. So that's what you were holding back," the young man said, his voice almost a whisper in my head. "What would you do now, Cath Alderdice?"
I blinked and the familiar shrine room materialized in front of me gradually. As if a fog has set into the room, I could only see mother, laying on the floor in front of the shrine, dead. Father was nowhere around. I brought up my hands to look for the Mark but the hands were too bloody. I rubbed them against my shirt but found myself wearing a suit. Father's suit. My hands were rough. It was the hands of a businessman. A businessman who had been facing problems with his business, who had to work just as hard as the few remaining employees that he could afford to keep but refused to give up. A businessman who had to juggle two lives and families, but finally couldn't keep up to it.
A cool breeze came through the open window by the shrine. I walked towards it, tripping over mother's hand clumsily. I recovered my posture and climbed through the window into the balcony, feeling every heavy step that I'm taking. This must be how I would feel if I grew up to be a man. I climbed over the balcony and sat on the railing. It was thin and couldn't support me unless I held onto the railing to balanced myself.
Father wouldn't care for me. He can't, if he wants to keep his other family with him. He has to remove me from his life. It's easy to understand. All I need to do is move faster than Father. If I were to survive alone, I'd need food, clothes and money. I looked at the affluent residence across the street. The neighbour was a fellow businessman, frequently attending parties together with Father. He hasn't returned yet. He should have enough for a child to live well enough. I should go there.
There was a loud heavy thump from beneath the street. I turned around and checked for the source of the noise. Father lied down on the street in the darkness, crying and moaning with confusion and pain. The street lamp flickered as the pathetic man dragged his body into the light and shouted for help feebly. I looked up across to see the shrine glowing in my home. In a blink of an eye, I've made it across the street somehow. I lit up a table lamp and started searching the room. I took the biggest bag that I could find in the wardrobe and threw in jewellery, cash, clothes and elixirs laying in plain sight. I found their daughter's room and took a couple of her dresses. They should have locked them in somewhere safe if they were important.
"Harding! Harding! Can you hear me? I'm here, down here in the streets! Help me! Help me!"
Father was shouting from beneath the streets. He must have thought that someone was home. I checked the room once more amidst Father's cries. Soon, a patrolling lower guard would rescue him, once offered the money.
"Please! Help me! Please–"
Father saw me when I walk to the balcony. His jaw dropped in surprise, his eyes widened with apparent fear and realization. I climbed onto the railing, looking further across to the roof above my apartment. Father's sharp shrill rang through the street as I took stepped out, as if walking. With a blink, I stumbled a little on the roof, not expecting the slanted angle. I stood by the edge of the roof and look into the distance.
The Drapers Ward would be a good place to start anew.