Magnus Academy: The Cursed Blood

Chapter Thirty-Three

That Emotion Which Comes After Hostility

"What emotion comes before hostility?"

My mother used to ask me such a question. Sure she would ignore me a lot just like everybody else in this household, but there were actually times where she would look at me straight in the eye and ask me puzzling questions. I had never bothered myself to think about them deeper nor took the effort to at the very least, answer them.

But as though an instinct carved inside of me like a programmed intellect, I knew I was long aware of the answer to that question. An emotion that comes before hostility, the cause of that heavy, dark, dangerous feeling...the sole reason why such an emotion resurfaces from a certain person almost subconsciously. It's that uncomfortable, suffocating, subtle feeling called—

Ah, I used to walk down these corridors, both my footsteps creating a light sound as they hit the cold, wooden tile simultaneously. And as I did, those meaningful gazes would often struck me like small, invisible needles penentrating my weak, pale eyes along with their ruthless words which had always passed through my ears and never truly made it out.

"Anak ba talaga siya ng Head Lord?"

"Tignan mo ang mga matang iyan...mas bughaw pa yata ang mga mata ng anak ko."

"Nagbibigay lamang siya ng malas sa Feyree Household."

"Ano nalang ang sasabihin ng mga taong malaki ang respeto sa angkan nating mga Feyree?"

"Balita ko ay mahina siyang bata kaya hindi din magtatagal ang buhay nito."

"Mga katulad niya...pabigat lang siya sa pamilyang ito."

They were stuck in my mind like a broken tape record which somehow manage to cloud my rational judgements, pulling out my hidden emotions, fueling my hunger to kill. Thus, I had always refused to meet their eyes, afraid that if I did, they would see that intense, burning, blooming desire of my murderous drive wanting to let loose.

But I couldn't let it loose back then for I was weak. I admit I was a lot weaker even compared to those low-level Feyrees in our household. I was death's favourite target, always chasing me behind wherever I turn to in these corridors, in these halls.

Like the way some would be waiting for me to open up a door and then take the opportunity to instill pain. Like the way they'd choose me as a sparing partner to end up beating me saying it was inevitable. They were all for the sake of my 'accidental' death.

But they couldn't kill me, no matter how much they try. I always end up alive and healthy the next day like nothing had ever happened. It was strange how death would always knock through my doorstep and despite opening it, death never truly enters. It would always be there all along, as though waiting for me to step right out and grasp on to it myself.

Thus I started locking myself, sometimes refusing to leave that room. That dark, empty room yet at the same time, it was the only place in this whole hiusehold that made me feel safe, made me feel warm, and those pleasant sensations made that prisoned-like room seem a little bearable.

Whenever I get too anxious, I would often try to get out of that room, but then one day it came when I just did that, the day most Cursed Bloods' abilities will go on rampage, insane, that only a strong blocking system could stop. It was hell. Emotions, various of them; flowing inside me like a wave of powerful energy that my little body then couldn't handle. Along with those emotions were different sensations.

They said it would last only one to three days the most, but mine never stopped. Every single day, my screams would reach the far ends of this household and for the first time, I thought; I truly was being a burden. But I couldn't make myself grab a hold of death's offer, I stayed far from it despite all that anguish I was feeling. I would laugh, cry, smile, and beg like a crazy person so they labelled me as actually insane.