⛧
Ashen sat at the kitchen table, his mother fussing over him with plates of food despite his insistence that he wasn't hungry.
Hans stood with his arms crossed, looming against the wall like a shadow ready to pounce.
Lapis sat quietly, chin resting on her hands, her eyes never leaving her brother's face.
Ashen swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak before the silence strangled him.
"I've been working… for Atlas Defense Co."
His mother froze mid-motion, spoon dripping soup back into the bowl. "Atlas?" Her eyes lit up in disbelief. "The Atlas? The one with the drones, and the rifles, and—and that huge government contract?"
Ashen nodded stiffly. "That one. They… recruited me six months ago. Said they needed bodies willing to test their new prototypes. The pay was good… too good to pass up. At first, I only thought about the money, but… the work itself… It's demanding, strict, and full of rules. I guess I needed that kind of structure."
He forced a small, crooked smile. "Can't gamble much when you're locked in a facility with men barking orders at you all day, right?"
Lapis's lips twitched, torn between a smile and a frown.
Hans, however, didn't so much as blink. "And they keep you gone for six months at a time? With no word to your family?"
Ashen nodded again. "That's how it works. They don't let recruits have much contact outside. Top secret projects, testing weapon prototypes, security clearances… the usual excuses."
His gaze fell to the table, guilt gnawing at him. Every word is a lie, even if it isn't completely false.
His mother lowered the spoon with trembling hands. Her eyes searched his face, shimmering with tears. "…So that's where you've been."
Relief warred with doubt across her features, her voice unsteady. "It explains why we couldn't reach you. But—" she stepped closer, gripping his shoulders as if afraid he'd slip away again.
"You're telling me the truth, aren't you, Ashen? You've really stopped… all of that?"
Ashen looked away, jaw tight. "I'm trying."
Hans's snarl cut through the room. "Trying? Don't make me laugh. You disappear after nearly putting a bullet through your head, and now you come back with this convenient story about Atlas swooping in to fix you?"
Ashen flinched. Lapis's hands gripped her sleeves under the table, knuckles white.
Hans shoved off the wall, steps heavy against the floor. "No. You haven't reformed. You've just found a new way to gamble, haven't you? With new excuses to disappear for months while your mother wrings herself dry and your sister keeps defending you."
Ashen's lips parted, but nothing came out.
"Hans—!" Akidia turned sharply, fire sparking in her eyes. "You think I can't tell when my son's lying? You think I'd believe him just because I want to? He's different, can't you see it? He's stronger, steadier—"
"Steadier?" Hans snapped. "Do you even hear yourself? He looks healthier, sure, but that doesn't erase Alice covering his debts. It doesn't erase the gambling, the recklessness, the damn Russian roulette..."
"It DOESN'T erase him playing with death like a toy!"
The words tore out of him so hard the walls felt like they vibrated. And then, as if the outburst drained him dry, his voice dropped, hollow and bitter.
"And you want me to believe all of that just vanished overnight… just because Atlas handed him a paycheck?"
Akidia planted her hands on her hips, chin tilted up defiantly, almost comically in contrast to her teary eyes. "Yes! I do! Because he's my son, Hans, and I know him better than anyone!"
Hans stared at her like she'd grown a second head, veins bulging at his temple.
Lapis's quiet voice slipped through, barely audible. "…He really does look different though, Dad."
All eyes turned to her. She shrank under the weight of it but didn't look away from Ashen. "He's… trying. I can tell."
Ashen's throat tightened. Stop looking at me like that. I don't deserve it.
Hans slammed a fist into the table, dishes rattling violently. "Enough! You want to fool your mother and sister, fine. But you won't fool me. Get out."
"Dad—!"
"Hans!" Akidia's voice broke, desperate. She gripped his arm, trying to hold him back, but Hans didn't yield. His glare stayed fixed on his son.
Ashen took in the scene; their tears, their fury, the pain written on their faces. All of it because of him.
His family was splintering right in front of him, and it was his fault.
The thought settled heavy in his chest… and then, strangely, what he had to do became clear. There was one path left. Do what his father wanted. Remove himself from this place, at least for now.
He hesitated for a beat before standing, pushing his chair back with a scrape that echoed through the kitchen. His mouth twisted into something caught between a smirk and a grimace. "No, it's fine. Father's right."
His mother's gasp hitched in her throat. Lapis's eyes widened, her breath catching.
His mouth worked for a moment before he forced the words out. "I'm… I'm sorry—"
But he stopped himself. His eyes went distant, glassy, before a dry chuckle split the silence. He dragged a hand through his hair.
"No. That's the script, isn't it? The old family favorite. 'I'm sorry.' You've heard it a hundred times already. Like a broken record with no music left. Even I'm sick of hearing it."
His mother wrung her hands together like she was fumbling for the right words, but dropping none of them.
Ashen spread his arms wide, as if he were putting himself on display.
"So what else do you want? Another empty line to add to the collection? Maybe I should've started numbering them—'Apology number thirty-seven, now with extra sincerity.'"
His smirk faltered into something brittle, the irony strangled by a crack in his voice. "Guess I lost count a long time ago."
Lapis's lips parted, eyes shining with a plea she didn't voice.
"Ha—"
The laugh that followed was sharp, and it died almost instantly. His gaze sank to the floor. "I don't deserve forgiveness. Not after Alice, not after the debts, not after dragging you all through the wreckage I made."
"..."
"Maybe Atlas gave me a leash, maybe they didn't. Doesn't matter. I'll crawl on it if I have to. I'll keep crawling until I'm something better. Even if it takes me the rest of my life to atone for my sins."
The silence that followed was crushing. His mother's tears fell freely, but she didn't move.
Lapis's lips trembled, but no words came. Hans said nothing; his expression unreadable, but his fists clenched tighter than ever.
Ashen gave them one last look, his chest aching with guilt, then turned and walked toward the door. No one stopped him this time.
Not even his mother.
❖⛧❖