Chapter 13: Chapter 13: They Deserve Hell

[Eren’s POV]

I was celebrating.

The long awaited victory. The moment I had dreamed about for eight years. Finally unfolding before my eyes.

I looked around at the broken faces of my so-called family.

Father was staring at mother. His expression was priceless. A mixture of disbelief and confusion plastered across his pathetic face.

’Is she the same person? What the hell is going on?’

That’s what his eyes were screaming.

Too funny.

I almost laughed out loud.

Then Aunt Melisa stood up. Her chair scraped against the floor with a harsh screech.

“What the fuck did you do, you bitch?!”

She pointed a trembling finger at my mother.

“I knew it! She has connections with demons! She made a pact with—”

WHOOSH.

Before she could finish her sentence, the Primordial Hands erupted from the ground.

They grabbed her throat.

SLAM.

Lifted her off her feet.

Higher.

Higher.

Until her head nearly touched the ceiling.

“GKKH… HKKK…”

She kicked and thrashed. Her fingers clawed at the shadowy appendages crushing her windpipe. Her face turned purple.

Then, just as suddenly, the hands lowered her.

THUD.

Dropped her on the floor like garbage.

And vanished.

“HACK! COUGH! COUGH!”

She collapsed on all fours. Coughing violently. Spitting saliva. Both hands pressing against her bruised throat.

I smiled.

’This shit hasn’t even started and the number one bitch already got a taste.’

’Cool.’

My mother was the new matriarch of this house. The Primordial Hands answered to her now. Opposing her, let alone touching her, would get their asses burned to ashes.

’Time to have some fun.’

I walked toward the dining table. Toward the old hag sitting at the far end.

Grandmother.

She was petrified. Frozen in her seat. Her morning tea still raised halfway to her lips.

I placed my boot on the table.

Right in front of her face.

THUNK.

“Grandma.”

She flinched.

“Looks like your breakfast is finished.”

I leaned closer.

“Guess what your super lovely, caring grandson brought for you?”

Her eyes darted to my muddy boot. Then back to my face. Anger flickered beneath her fear.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Her voice was commanding. Trying to maintain authority she no longer possessed.

I gave her my kindest smile.

“Oh, this? This is just a sweet dish. For your never-ending kindness toward my mother.”

I gestured toward my boot.

“Here. Taste it.”

Her face contorted. I could see the insult forming on her lips. Some degrading comment about my mother. About me. About how we would pay for this insolence.

But I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

GRAB.

My hand shot out and wrapped around her wrinkled neck.

The old hag trembled in my grip.

I pulled her face close to mine. Made her look directly into my eyes.

“Don’t make this harder. For me. Or for yourself.”

My fingers tightened.

“Be a good bitch. And lick it.”

Her arrogance cracked. Fear and confusion flooded in. But she still didn’t understand. Still thought she had some power here.

So I showed her.

I pushed her head down toward my boot.

THUD.

Her face pressed against the leather. I rubbed it across the surface. Smeared dirt on her wrinkled cheeks. On those egoistic lips that refused to open.

“Open.”

She kept them sealed.

I dug my fingers deeper into her neck.

“I said. Open.”

CRACK.

The pain carved sense into her ancient brain.

Her mouth opened.

And she took my boot between her lips.

Not quite licking. More like biting. Gagging. But it didn’t matter. The sight was enough. This woman who had spent years orchestrating my mother’s torture was now on her knees, crying, with my dirty boot shoved in her mouth.

Beautiful.

I looked around the room.

Aunt Melisa was still on the floor. Holding her throat. Staring at me with wide stunned eyes.

’What are you looking at, bitch?’

’You got lucky sitting on the far end.’

’But don’t worry. I don’t discriminate based on age.’

’I’ll get back to you.’

My gaze shifted to my father.

He was staring at me. Face red with fury.

“Tsk.”

He clicked his tongue.

“You.”

His voice was low. Dangerous.

“How dare you do that to my mother?”

He tried to stand. His legs were shaky. But rage gave him strength.

He pushed himself up. Stumbled forward. Then charged at me.

GRAB.

His hands seized my collar.

“I will kill you!”

Spit flew from his mouth.

In response, I smiled.

And kicked upward.

CRACK.

My foot connected directly with his balls.

“AGHHHHH!”

He crumpled to the ground. Hands clutching his crotch. Face twisted in agony. Hissing through clenched teeth.

THUD.

’This is the most beautiful part of life.’

’Well, if we leave out the sex part.’

I was enjoying myself immensely.

But then I looked at my mother.

She was just standing there. Watching everything unfold. Her expression wasn’t victorious. It was confused. Lost.

I walked over to her.

“Mother, what now?”

She blinked.

“Aren’t you going to take your revenge?”

No response.

“These morons took everything from you. Every moment of happiness you deserved. The hell they forced you into for years.”

I gestured around the room.

“And yet here you are. Standing still. No victorious grin. No satisfaction.”

I grabbed her shoulders.

“Why, mom? Don’t you need this?”

She looked at me. Her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite read.

“I don’t know…”

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I should do.”

She glanced at the groaning bodies around us.

“Whatever they did… it doesn’t change that they’re family. It doesn’t change that they provided for us.”

Then she smiled.

Her hand reached up and hovered over my cheek.

“And it doesn’t change that they gave me you.”

My eye twitched.

My brain rotted.

The cringe was so powerful I nearly vomited on the spot.

“The hell did you just say—”

But before I could finish, her expression changed.

Her eyes went wide. Alert. Cautious.

She grabbed me. Pulled me into her embrace.

I was confused.

Looked up. She had her eyes squeezed shut. Her body tense. Bracing for something.

I looked behind me.

SHING.

An assassin.

Cloaked in shadows. Twin daggers gleaming in his hands. One of them thrust toward us.

Toward me.

But the blade never reached.

CLANG.

The Primordial Hands materialized and blocked the strike.

I recognized the assassin. The dark robe. The skull mask. The silent killing intent.

’Father’s top summon.’

He must have summoned it in desperation. Ordered it to kill me.

But mother had pulled me into her arms first.

Which meant attacking me now meant attacking her.

And that was against the rules.

FWOOOOSH.

The summon burst into black flames.

“AAAAGHHHH!”

It screamed as it burned. Flesh melting. Bones crumbling. Until nothing remained but ash that dissolved back into the void.

I was now thinking about forcing father to transfer that summon to me. In this case I’ll have a good summon and start with a cheat.

But my thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind me.

Cold. Furious.

“How dare you try to hurt my son.”

I turned.

Mother was walking forward. Not the hesitant, confused woman from moments ago.

This was different.

Every step radiated anger. Every movement spoke of rage finally unleashed.

She stopped directly in front of father.

He was still on the ground. Clutching his crotch. But his face remained arrogant. Defiant.

SLAP.

Her palm connected with his cheek.

His head snapped to the side.

But his expression didn’t change. Still smug. Still superior.

“You both will pay for everything.”

He spat blood onto the floor.

“Don’t think this victory means anything. You bitch. And your scum son will—”

CRACK.

Her fist slammed into his face.

He collapsed forward. Face first into the ground.

But she wasn’t done.

STOMP.

Her foot crashed down on his chest.

STOMP.

His stomach.

KICK.

His ribs.

“He was right!”

Another kick.

“You all deserve hell!”

STOMP.

“For every day you made me crawl!”

KICK.

“For every tear I swallowed in silence!”

STOMP.

“For every time I smiled while dying inside!”

Her voice cracked.

“For making me hate being alive!”

STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

“For making me wish I was never born!”

She was screaming now. Tears streaming down her face. But her feet didn’t stop.

I watched in silence.

Let my gaze drift from her stomping feet up to her face.

Tears.

Rivers of them.

Years of pain. Years of humiliation. Years of suffering.

All pouring out at once.

’Let it all out, mother.’

’You’ve endured enough.’

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