Leaves always fall in autumn. That’s just how they interact with the world.
And Skolo fell - always and everywhere. Even in something as seemingly simple and coordination - free as a game of badminton.
The only thing striving for the heavens was the shuttlecock, which, after its brief ascent, would plummet back down - ideally to be struck by the boy’s racket.
Nope! As usual, he missed. He tripped over nothing, felled by his own clumsiness - and by Petra’s charming smile. She was batting her lashes at Jordan, who ignored her with his usual arrogant indifference. That smug mask of entitlement and god - complex rarely left his face.
He wore that expression for everything: answering teachers’ questions, eating in the cafeteria, strolling through the hallways. Even during that awful biology class, when they were covering lip - footed centipedes, and a huge picture of a scolopendra was on display - his face didn’t change one bit.
Raising the book over his head lazily, Jordan smirked and said:
- Looks like our little Just as disgusting. Or is he worse? What do you all think?
The entire class collapsed onto their desks in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Fingers pointed at Skolo. Even Greta, their biology teacher, puffed her cheeks to hold back her laughter. She quickly turned to the chalkboard to - continue the lesson, - but really, she just didn’t want anyone to see her own giggle fit.
Skolo saw it all. And he never forgot it.
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He didn’t even remember his real name anymore. The nickname - short for scolopendra - had stuck to him like a leech. That’s what everyone in school called him now.
- Blame your face, - That’s what his father snapped when he’d first tried to complain.
Not that his father had time for him anyway. The man was busy with his political career - modest, sure, but deeply important to someone with a chronic power fetish. If Skolo’s mother had ever softened her husband’s bitterness, her death - from aortic rupture - shattered whatever barriers had remained.
No, he didn’t hit Skolo. He didn’t physically abuse him. He just redirected all his venom straight at the boy, the bile that had once been reserved solely for his wife. He used to yell at her:
- How could you give birth to something so disgusting?! That’s not a face - that’s an overripe plum! He looks like a goddamn mutant!
And the mother? She stayed silent, too afraid of her husband’s wrath. Did she know how to answer him? Probably - she was the only one who had ever loved poor Skolo. She would secretly kiss his bald head, already losing hair in early childhood, and stroke it gently.
But after she died, the father attacked during dinner.
He’d wave his fork like a general’s baton, leading his legions into battle:
- You won’t be living You hear me? I don’t want to see you, don’t want to be reminded every day that my sperm was tainted - that it helped spawn this monster. I don’t want to hear your whining about bullies. I get those guys - you deserved it the second you were born!
If I were building a career in the big city, you might’ve been useful. I’d drag you around as a prop, tell everyone I’m a single dad raising a mutant son but still pressing on! And I’d offer to help the people, just like I help myself.
But no - I love this little shithole town, and I want it to prosper. So I’m not going anywhere. But you
- you’ll be Far away. Out of my sight.
School? University? Don’t make me laugh. No one wants to work with a genetic mistake. So it’s time for you, my little friend, to go live at our holiday camp. The one my dad sank so much money into. Sure, it’s run down now - commercially useless. Doesn’t matter. There’s an old house there, where the old caretaker lived. You’ll stay in that.
When the camp is empty - walk around, sure. But if visitors come, you stay inside. Don’t you dare show your horrifying mug to anyone? You’ll ruin my reputation! Then all the damn liberals will start whining: ‘How could you dump your child like garbage?’ Honestly, I would’ve loved that garbage dump as a guy… Gorgeous house, a river nearby, nature. Go fish. Work out. Read books. Live your best life.
Just not here. -
Who was his father? A vile sociopathic abuser who hated his child. That's what everyone would say. But he also kept his promises...