He learned his father’s concubine had schemed successfully against his mother, the main wife. He learned of the hundreds of hidden battles between his mother and the demon Ju. His mother was the daughter of a noble family that met misfortune after the marriage. She had no backing, and could be treated as her husband deemed right. 

 

Nothing tied them together other than an old promise between the previous generation. The last straw was the final battle. Demon Ju dared to steal the most prized piece of Jewelry that the Old Madame had. A fine piece of Black Jade that was worth the entire family house. 

 

Demon Ju had snuck it in his mothers room then had the servants vouch for what happened. Only his mother’s family station, previously, prevented the blade of the executioners from falling. 

 

Where it was meant to fall, he did not know, but it meant something much worse than what they were in. He could only imagine the torture, this was already the worst thing he had ever lived in.

 

He didn’t know that once the month finished, things only got worse. 

 

The hardwood beds and gruel soup turned into living in an alley with rags covering them as a home. The gruel soup turned into nothing except the odd piece of moldy bread he could find in the refuse. 

 

No one would approach them. He could see how the people flinched when they saw his mothers eyes. He could taste the disgust from the air in those scant moments. Not even the gangs would come near them. They would beat him, then spit at his mother from a distance as they ran away. 

 

Atuel never knew he could hate. He never knew the depths of such an emotion, the desire to not kill an enemy. No, death was a kind punishment for what they felt. He would make them suffer things they could only imagine in the worst of nightmares. Deeper he had fallen until one day nearly a year later, his mother looked at him. 

 

She actually looked directly at him. 

 

Her eyes saw him, though they never changed color. She caressed his cheeks, a sad smile on her face, and tears rolling down her chin. “My little dumpling. Look how thin you are. what happened to your eye, it's half closed? Come, come, let me kiss the pain away.”

 

His legs gave out under him, he fell towards her hugging for dear life. He sobbed and wailed, letting out all the pain in his heart. His mother kissed his forehead, then his eye. She whispered kind words, told him things were going to get better.

 

He believed her. He had too. 

 

It did nothing for him physically, but deep down, somewhere in him, he felt the darkness crack. 

 

The moment ended when she flicked his nose. She had a look of mock anger, pinching his starving cheeks, pulling skin only. “I see the hatred, little dumpling.”

 

Atuel jumped back. He tried to make distance and look away, ashamed of what he felt. He knew his mother would never approve of the evil he thought. She was a Saintess, pure and unfettered. 

 

She held onto his arm, looking into the distance, her brief moment of sight gone. “Don’t be like them, Atuel. Be better. God sees all, rewards those who deserve, and punishes those who deserve. Those that scheme, will continue to scheme, but they forget a simple fact of life. While they may be masters, God is the greatest of planners. He knows everything their hearts secretly connive, they hide nothing in the shadows.”

 

He felt a knot in his throat. “God?” he demanded in the pain. 

 

Before he could finish, his mother placed a dirty and scratched finger on his mouth. His heart ached at how rough her hand was, when it used to be as soft and white as the clouds themselves. 

 

“If we don’t believe in God, then why do we continue to live, Atuel? What future exists for those that do not believe in a bright future? How can the weak get out of the worst of their lives? God exists to us, little dumpling, he has to so he can punish those that take advantage of his people.”

 

She patted his head, then turned away to look at the stars from the holes in their rag home. 

 

Atuel looked down in shame. Who was he to think he deserved vengeance? Was it not his mother that suffered the brunt of everything they had gone through. If there was anyone who had the right to seek it, it would be her, not him. 

 

She would fast as he ate the gruel. While he could walk the streets, none would even approach his blind mother. It was his mother that had been betrayed by their father, he was just a bystander that weighed her down. 

 

That money used to feed and keep clothes, though dirty as they may be, on his back could have been put into something to make money. Maybe she would be living in a comfortable home, married to some wealthy man. 

 

But who would accept a woman who was not only blind, but had a child as a burden too. A child too young to work, that would only eat and sleep their days until they grew old enough. And even then, they would not be from their ilk, an outsider from another man. 

 

“Yes, mother.” he whispered, unsure if she could hear him as she sat still in a trance. 

 

He swore that day to forever protect and provide for her. That morning, he ran out before the sun rose into the sky. The traders were always the first to wake up, and they carried all the money. Even the poorest would scourange up coins only to give it to the fat ones. 

 

And he needed some so his mother did not need to eat molded and filthy food any more. But a cruel reality awaited him. From the first to the last he had asked, and even begged, rejected him. Some simply chased him away before he could even speak. 

 

The food venders, leather workers, blacksmiths, carpenters, tailors, scribes, jewelers, street sweepers, garbage cleaners, even the damn shit shovelers.

 

No one would take a ‘rat’ as they called him. A thief they swore he was, and those that knew who he was reacted even worse. Son of the witch they called him. He almost fought the baker for insulting his mother before remembering her words. Nothing had been harder than to turn away and not cause a scene. 

 

Only when the sun had set did he return home unsuccessful. His mother sat in front of their abode, a worried look to her face. “Little dumpling, you're late!” she pinched his ear before she began walking in the wrong direction.

 

He guided her back inside the ‘tent’ with sagged shoulders.