Miracles always have their price [TTRPG bluebooking]
CW: heavy topics ahead
It hurts until you stop thinking about it. The more involved you become, the sharper the pain.
But Al already knew how to endure. He could ignore it. He must ignore it. It's not that bad anyways; the only things that really irritate him are bleeding and difficulty breathing. Maybe the cold, too. It wasn't cold in the street, but he was freezing. The warmth of Wolle's hand felt almost like a burn to him.
If that's what dying feels like, it's okay.
It's not that bad anyways.
His t-shirt is soaking wet with blood. He probably leaves a bloody trail behind, but it doesn't matter anymore. Dead can't follow him. Living do not give a shit. They hurry in their businesses, not even acknowledging two teens: malnourished, bruised, and bleeding. They are sure that NET is the reason behind everything. That monsters are hiding in every single corner of the colorful screens. In every single line of code for fancy new apps.
But parents always wish the best for their kids, right? They beat you out of love. They cut you and stab you to make you strong and resilient. Their verbal abuse is the form of critique so that you can better yourself. They allow their friends to abuse you so that you knowāthe world is not a kind place. They threaten your little sibling so that you learn how to protect what is dear to you.
You are your father's property. A toy made by a toy factory that seemingly has no other value to him. Because factories are disposable and replaceable, and they dream of having a master. Well, both fathers and factories were toys, too. Sick cycle with no end. Ouroboros that not just eats its own tail but all the shit his rear end produces.
Al wanted nothing to do with this. He decided that he will be the one who breaks this cycle in his family, even if it costs him his humanity, his sanity, or his life. Now he must concentrate and bring Wolf to safety. Max will take good care of him because he wasn't a father or a former broken toy. He is human. Unlike everyone else on these godforsaken streets, whose biggest achievement is virtue signaling on social media.
That chest pain sharpens with each passing moment. But Al will not yield. If he survives, he promises to never yield. None of his enemies will have the pleasure of seeing him suffer. He will laugh in their faces in the same way he did at home, even if his laughter will be the last thing he does. They will end up angry, frustrated, and infuriated. But neverānever!āsatisfied.
In the end, pain is mortal. You can outlive it.
Wolle was following him in silence, still in shock after everything that happened. Al felt guilty. He never wanted to expose his little brother to the violence, but what choice did he have? He couldn't lose him. He was everything Al ever had. Father could take away Al's humanity, dignity, or even his life, but he could never take Wolf from him. Raising that hand with the knife at him was a grave mistake.
Al leaned heavily against the iron door, pressing the doorbell with his last ounce of strength. He started wheezing with every breath he took. All he could see were blurred silhouettes. All he could hear was his irregular heartbeat. He only knew that he made it to the gym. To Max. To safety. Now he can rest just a little bit.
It's not that bad anyways.
Something bad has happened. Something much, much worse than usual.
Max knew that if the boys arrived at his doorstep late at night, it meant that their father was drunk again, and they needed a safe space to spend the night. He wished he could do more than that, and he tried to call the cops or contact child protection services. But his pleas predictably fell on deaf ears. If the situation wasn't significant enough to generate sensational news headlines about yet another abusive CEO and the various controversies that self-proclaimed good people love to gossip about, then it wasn't considered worthy of anyone's attention. Nobody cared about some retired military who turned to alcohol, drugs, and child abuse. And nobody cared about his children: one broken beyond repair and the other scarred for life.
Al was always bruised, cut, and burned. He was just seventeen but as tough as seasoned solos. Wolf is twelve, and he's way more mature than the kids of his age, which is, honestly, not a good thing. He never had a chance to be a kid; he had to become a survivor from day one. Max just scratched the surface of the hell that was Al and Wolf's home, and it was enough to make him infuriated. Nowadays people who can have kids usually do not deserve them. Max would give anything to live in a reality where he could be the father of two boys. And someone would give away anything to abuse alcohol, substances, and his own sons.
"You are safe here. I will not let anything bad happen to you or Al, okay? My friend will help him. I understand it's difficult for you to speak right now, but I need to know what happened."
Wolf nodded. His eyes seemed to be empty, his facial expression unreadable. He still seems to be in shock, but at least he is able to speak again. Max sat near him on the couch, keeping the distance but letting him know he's nearby if he is needed.
"Dad was drunk. He got into our room with the knife. Al fought with him and kicked him hard, butā¦ Dad got up and stabbed him in the chest. I screamed and asked him not to hurt Al, butā¦ I think Dad wanted to stab me too. He said he hates when I am loud."
Max clenched his teeth, listening to the boy.
"How did you escape? Al could push your father away?"
Wolf shook his head. "No, heā¦ When Dad threatened me, Al got up, took a chair, and hit him. A fewā¦ dozensā¦ times. I have never seen him this angry."
"Al killed Siegbert?"
"Iā¦ I think so. I mean, I am sure. Al crushed his skull, andā¦ wellā¦ his face is no longer recognizable. And the chair is broken, even though it was very sturdy."
"Oh godā¦" Max rubbed his face with his hands. "Sorry that I had to ask these questions, Wolle. Now rest. We'll think of something tomorrow, okay?"
"Is Al okay?"
"He will be. Promise."
"Maxā¦ Can you stay here for a bit?"
"Sure." Max hugged the boy, letting him cry on his chest. Wolf completely exhausted himself rather soon, though, and fell asleep. No wonder, after everything he saw and experiencedā¦
As Max has covered him with the blanket, Carl has quietly knocked on the door of the coach room. The somber look on his face didn't promise anything good, so Max braced himself for the worst news regarding Al. How will he look in Wolf's eyes tomorrow? How will he bring news that his older brother died protecting him?
He looked at the sleeping boy one more time and left the room, carefully closing the door and following Carl to the dark corner of the gym. What he saw, however, made him sigh with relief. Al was placed on the makeshift bed made of benches and wrestling mats. His chest was bandaged, and Max could see the movement, meaning that he was still breathing.
"So, there is both good news and bad news. I will start with the good, since it is obviousāhe will survive." Carl looked at Al, letting out a frustrated huff. "Nearly lost him, though. Honestly, it's hard to believe he endured for so long. Adult men collapse much faster than this champ. This marks the beginning of our bad news. As he ages, this injury will bite him in the ass. And I don't think he will make it past his thirties. I know it's not the prognosis you'd like to hear, but let's be real hereāhe shouldn't have survived this wound at all. Miracles always have their price."
"Is there anything I can do for him? Maybe some sort of surgery or medical bells and whistles? There must be something; he's still young andā¦"
"Max. I am sorry." Carl frowned. "I did everything I could, and I assure you that currently there is nothing more anyone can do for him. However, I've heard of some developments in the cardiac surgery field that might give you hopeābecause I know how much patients and their relatives cherish this putrid little feeling. In about ten years, we should have technology that will negate the effects of this particular injury and connected condition. And if we do, I pray that your foster kid has money and opportunities to go through the surgery. Otherwise he will be done by his thirty-fifth birthday."
"Pray? Aren't you an atheist?" Max scoffed. "But thank you for your brutal honesty. I appreciate it, believe it or not."
"God works in very ridiculous ways. And I do not speak about this old fella on the clouds; this nonsense has nothing to do with science or survival. I am the saint for you. You are the saint for him. He is the saint for his brother. You see what I mean? Who knows, maybe he will meet more miracles on his way later on."
But miracles always have their price, don't they?