Fractured Horizon: Shadows of the Apocalypse

"What have I told you about not coming straight home after school? You have chores to do!" Ryne's father roared, his voice echoing like a thunderclap in the narrow hallway.

By then, Ryne knew it was time to brace himself for what was to come. He stood firm, his jaw clenched. The air thrummed with a tension as sharp as static electricity.

A sickening thud echoed as Ryne's father's fist connected with Ryne's jaw, instantly blurring his vision and sending dizziness through his skull. Ryne staggered, fighting to stay on his feet.

It'll be my ribs, next.

While Ryne reeled from the strike to his jaw, another punch landed square in the centre of his chest. The shirt Brad and Maira gave him dispersed the force just as they said it would. The shock from the lack of pain he felt from his father's strike stopped him from pretending otherwise for just a second.

"Wasn't hard enough for you, boy? Maybe you need a little more tonight!" His voice was a sneer, dripping with sadistic pleasure.

Shit... This is going to be hell.

---

Ryne hobbled two doors down to his bedroom with a dislocated arm, a blackened eye, and a bruised jaw. It wasn't the worst beating he'd taken, and certainly not the best.

The floorboards creaked under Ryne's weight, each step sending a sharp pain through his body. Time and neglect degraded and splintered the wooden flooring in Ryne and Cassie's bedroom. Cassie was asleep on one of the two beds when he entered.

Their beds, two lumpy mattresses, sat on the floor with old blankets and musty pillows piled on top. The faint smell of mildew and dampness lingered in the air, mingling with the stench of sweat and grime that seemed to seep from the very walls.

Ryne kicked aside a pile of neatly folded clothes in his struggle to shuffle through his bedroom.

The walls, once white, presumably, were now stained with the marks of time and violence, smudged with dirt and streaks of something darker.

In the corner, a broken dresser leaned precariously, its drawers stuck half-open, threatening to spill their contents onto the floor. Old, tattered posters of pervious tenants clung to the walls. A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling that, when switched on, would cast a sickly yellow light that flickered and buzzed.

As he collapsed onto his mattress, a puff of dust rose up, making him cough. The lumps pressed uncomfortably against Ryne's bruises and springs poked through in places, pricking his battered body. He pulled one of the blankets over him, its rough fabric providing little comfort. Water stains, each caused by the leaking roof that the landlord never fixed, patched the ceiling above.

The stains blurred before his eyes; his consciousness wavered, the agony coursing through his body reminding him of his imprisonment under his father's rule.

The springs of Cassie's bed groaned.

So, she was awake...

Cassie sat up on her mattress, looking at Ryne with the same worried eyes she did every night. They slept in the same room, while their father used the spare bedroom for his study.

Her gaze pierced through the dim light, her concern unmistakable.

"It wasn't too bad," Ryne lied, offering a weak smile.

"Liar," she shot back, her voice tinged with both frustration and fear. "My friend said she can give me medicine tomorrow if I let her copy my homework."

"I don't need it," he insisted, though the throb in his head and the ache in his body told a different story.

"You're still lying. She said the medicine even makes you heal faster."

"Okay, okay," Ryne relented, too exhausted to argue. "I'm tired and need to get some sleep for school tomorrow. If you bring the medicine, I'll take it." He rolled over to face the wall, hoping the conversation would end.

"Good," Cassie replied, her tone brightening slightly.

Shifting his weight with his hand firmly on the mattress, Ryne pressed against his shoulder until it popped back into place. Ryne couldn't help but grunt from the pain, the sound involuntary.

He pulled a necklace out from under his shirt, the small silver pendant cool against his skin. Ryne gripped it, tears silently running down his face.

I miss you, mum. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

Ryne fell asleep clutching the necklace, his tears dampening the pillow beneath his head. The darkness of sleep took over, pulling Ryne into a place where the pain of reality faded for a while.

---

The air was thick with sorrow, the scent of freshly turned earth mingling with the floral fragrance of wreaths laid around the grave. The overcast sky matched the somber mood, casting a grey pallor over everything.

By the coffin of Ryne's mother, he stood, his eyes red and swollen from crying, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

I remember this...

Family members clustered together, their faces etched with grief. Their hushed whispers carried words of blame and bitterness.

"The World Technology Institute... it's their fault. If only they hadn't pushed her so hard," one aunt murmured to another, shaking her head.

Ryne's eyes darted from one family member to another, seeking more information.

"She was always so dedicated, but they took advantage of that," another voice chimed in.

Amidst it all, Ryne's father was a staggering, drunken mess.

Ryne had never seen him like that, his usual stern demeanour replaced by a volatile mix of grief and fury. His breath reeked of alcohol as he cursed at Ryne and Cassie, his words slurred but venomous.

"This is all your fault!" he screamed, pointing a trembling finger at us. "If it weren't for you kids... she'd still be alive!"

It really wasn't, though...

Cassie clung to Ryne's side. Her small and delicate frame shook with silent sobs. Ryne held her tightly, his own tears flowing freely as he looked at the coffin before him.

The polished wood gleamed dully in the grey light. The coffin contained everything that had once been his mother—her warmth, her laughter, her unyielding love.

That was the second time Cassie had to grieve the loss of a mother. I should have been better for her.

Ryne couldn't hold back any longer. He fell to his knees beside the coffin, his hands gripping the edge as he wept openly. His tears splashed onto the wood, mingling with the drops of rain that had begun to fall. The sky seemed to cry with him, the gentle patter of rain a mournful accompaniment to his grief.

"Why did you have to go, Mom?" Ryne whispered, his voice choked with despair. "Why did you leave us?"

The whispers faded into the background. The world narrowed down to the coffin and his sorrow. His father's curses, the muttered condemnations of family members, all of it became a distant hum. All that mattered in that moment was the overwhelming sense of loss that engulfed him.

---

Hands rocked Ryne's stiff body and the pain from his father's beating roused me from his slumber.

"Ryne," Cassie whispered, her voice trembling. "You're okay. It was just a nightmare. Mum wouldn't want us to fall apart..."

Tears filled Cassie's eyes, along with worry, grief, and kindness.

"Y-you're right." Ryne quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and embraced her. Her warmth from the extra few blankets on her bed eased his pain.