It wasn’t often that Righello recalled his past, as the thought troubled him greatly. But, on that day, it invaded his mind as he marched with Quinn through the plain white corridor.

  He first saw March 3rd, 2014. He had only been seven then, and only just turned, as his birthday was in December. Two days prior to this, his father, Zeus had Claimed him. His mother, Christine, had of course known that her son was a demigod, but Righello’s stepfather, Marino, had been completely in the dark.

  Righello only found out that his mother had told Marino about his heritage because of the noise the conversation had generated.

  The seven-year-old boy watched through a crack in the living room door as the two adults roared angrily at each other in Italian. All because of him.

  ‘You didn’t think to tell me that my son is a…a…monster?’ Marino roared, his greasy face red with rage.

  He was a large man, six-foot-three and he had a bit of meat on him, with gelled black hair and ferocious blue eyes. Righello couldn’t remember the days when his stepfather’s eyes hadn’t been ferocious.

  His mother, by contrast, was a small, frail woman, with olive skin and gorgeous brown hair. Her small blue eyes seemed wet with tears on that particular day, for obvious reasons.

  ‘Don’t you dare call Righello that!’ his mom screamed back in return. ‘My son is not a monster!’

  ‘You can hardly call that thing a ‘son’, you idiot woman!’ Marino shouted so loudly that Righello’s ears began to hurt. ‘And the same can be said for yourself! You tainted your body the day you decided to sleep with…Zoos…was that his name?’

  ‘Zeus!’ his mom fired back. ‘And he did more for me than you ever have! He provided me with the greatest thing I’ve ever received!’

  ‘Don’t try and use clever metaphors to refer to that thing upstairs! That boy is barely even human!’

  ‘Why are you so angry?’ Righello’s mom tried. ‘You knew he wasn’t your son, so what is there to be angry about?’

  ‘My son is not human, that’s what, you fool!’

  ‘Righello is human!’ his mom screamed shrilly, clearly losing it. Tears were streaming down her face at this point, ruining the little makeup she wore.

  ‘Only until he starts flying and cursing anybody that does him wrong!’ Marino boomed.

  ‘Well then, I should hope he curses you!’ his mom shrieked. Not a day had gone by since that Righello hadn’t wished she hadn’t said those words. ‘You can either treat my son like you should, or you can-’

  Marino threw a lamp at Righello’s mom, and it struck her on the jaw, causing her to clutch at it as he marched over to her.

  ‘You better start treating me with some respect,’ Marino growled. ‘Or I’ll-’

  Righello gave a great roar of anger and charged through the living room door so hard that it slammed against the wall. He ran straight towards his stepfather, hands outstretched. Marino simply slammed his forearm into Righello’s jaw, sending him flying across the room and into the wall.

  ‘Righello!’ his mother screamed, but that was where that particular memory ended, as Righello had fallen unconscious as his mother called his name.

  Righello couldn’t remember the date of the memory that came to him next, as it was a rather common memory. There were many memories like it, as its events became a regular occurrence.

  It was late at night, and Righello was cuddled up under a blanket with his mother watching the TV. His bedtime was hours ago, but she was willing to let him stay up. It was a Friday night, after all.

  The pair laughed and smiled and cracked jokes all night. These were Righello’s favourite nights. He enjoyed thinking about them even years later, but he tended to ignore what typically followed.

  Marino slammed open the living room door, revealing himself standing there, panting and holding an empty bottle of what looked and smelled like English beer.

  Despite being Italian, and being rather patriotic to such country, Marino never seemed to get drunk on Italian wine. Whenever he came home in such a state, it was always as a result of American or English beer.

  The bottle flew past Righello’s head, missing him by mere millimetres, and shattered against the wall.

  Righello’s mom buried her whimpering son under the blanket.

  ‘Marino!’ she tried in a cheerful voice. ‘How was-’

  Righello felt Marino grab his mother. Her voice cut off and he heard her let out a choke. Usually, when this happened, Righello would dive at his stepfather in a fit of rage. But after the fifth time, his mom prohibited him from doing such to protect him.

  So, under the blanket, Righello found himself biting the mattress to contain his rage.

  ‘Where’s…’ Marino snarled, his speech slurred, ‘the…boy…’

  ‘In…bed…last I…saw,’ Righello’s mom managed.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, woman,’ Marino retorted, his voice low and gruff. ‘I’ll put an end to that thing right now. Tell me the truth.’

  Marino had threatened, and tried, to kill Righello numerous times since finding out that he was a son of Zeus. And despite the fact that he had yet to succeed, he continued to try.

  Righello frequently thought about how he would probably be dead if it weren’t for his mother taking a regular beating in his place.

  He had grown to hate his stepfather more than anything else on the planet. More than even himself, whom he blamed wholly for the situation. If he had just been a normal boy, his stepfather wouldn’t have become a monster.

  Marino Armani spent years abusing and trying to kill Righello, and hurting, threatening, and raping his mother. All because Righello was a son of Zeus.

  Righello had spent his entire life since wondering why it meant so much to him. Why did finding out that his stepson was a demigod bother him so much?

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  The memory shifted to one of a slightly older Righello, perhaps ten or eleven years old, clawing at his carpet.

  Through his door, he could hear his mother’s screams and cries as Marino performed his usual Friday night routine.

  Righello’s fingers scraped so hard against the carpet that they went red. Ignoring the pain, tears, and lump in his throat, Righello growled to himself, ‘I’ll kill him.’

  Nobody should get away with doing that to his mom. Not a soul. And for that reason, Righello swore to himself night after night that he would bring a world of pain to Marino once he was a little bigger.

  ‘Why do your parents never come to parents’ evening?’ he remembered his friend Nico asking him.

  The pair of them were only about twelve and were rather good students at school. Nico was a bit smaller than his best friend and had fair blond hair and standard brown eyes. His round face donned a rather curious expression as he asked the question, clearly unaware of the pang it sent across Righello’s body.

  Marino didn’t attend purely because he didn’t care enough for Righello. ‘Why should I go just so they can tell me how much of an idiot he is?’ Righello could remember him screaming. ‘That bastard can’t even count to five!’

  His mother couldn’t attend because her entire body was decorated with purple bruises, scars, and fresh cuts. She didn’t want anybody to ask questions about them, so she rarely even left the house. She had even quit her job. The only source of income was from the greaseball that was Marino.

  ‘They never have the time,’ Righello lied.

  He hated lying. That was the first lie he could remember telling. Many more followed. After joining Maltor’s forces, lying was the easiest thing he had to do, and it was also the nicest.

  ‘They’re always at work?’ Nico pressed.

  ‘Yeah,’ Righello continued, making up excuses as he went. ‘They work for some sort of important bank I think.’

  Nico nodded, clearly believing Righello’s lie.

  ‘Mom?’ Righello tried quietly in a new memory that took place not too long after the last.

  ‘Hm?’ his mother managed, but even that simple noise was dripping with exhaustion.

  ‘Where’s Marino? He’s usually home by now.’

  His mom smiled. ‘Staying at a friend’s. Just the two of us tonight. Thank Zeus.’

  Righello didn’t think that his father should be thanked for anything.

  ‘When are we going to do something about what he’s doing to us?’ Righello cried desperately. He usually had to keep his voice down when discussing Marino, but, on that night, he suddenly found that he didn’t care.

  ‘I’ll do something soon, baby, I promise,’ his mom replied with a smile.

  She pulled him in close to her on the sofa and kissed his cheek.

  ‘Morto un Papa se ne fa un altro,’ she whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

  When she had first said it, Righello had wondered what she had meant. What she was planning. But he found out.

  He suddenly became much more aware of his surroundings. How the sofa felt beneath his fingers. How the fireplace smelled. How the harsh rain sounded as it slammed against the front windows. How the front door sounded as it unlocked.

  Righello’s head snapped up to stare at the front door. Dripping wet and clenching a bottle of beer in his right hand, stood Marino.

  ‘Darling!’ Righello’s mother exclaimed, rising from the sofa and standing in front of her son. ‘I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow!’

  ‘The…boy…’ Marino grumbled.

  He dived forward, hands outstretched. Righello grabbed his mother’s leg and threw her out of the way before diving after her. Marino crashed into the brown carpet, darkening its shade, but immediately got to his feet and threw the bottle straight at Righello. It smashed into his cheek.

  Righello gave a stifled cry of pain and clutched his left cheek as a crimson pool started to form at his feet.

  ‘This…I…you…shouldn’t…have been…born…’ Marino snarled, diving forward again.

  Three bangs rattled Righello’s ears, making his hair stand on end and his very bones ache. Everything seemed to fall silent after that. He could no longer hear the rain slamming against the window. Despite the fact he was panting, he couldn’t hear his breathing. His mom wasn’t making any noise either. Nor was Marino.

  Time seemed to slow. Righello’s blood poured thickly from his cheek but took longer to hit the ground. Marino’s dive was slower.

  Then Marino hit the floor and time sped up again.

  ‘Righello!’ his mom cried, crouching next to him. In her right hand, she held a small black pistol.

  Righello wasn’t sure how she’d managed to get one in the middle of Venice. Surely, she’d had to pay a lot.

  ‘We’re safe now, but you have to go!’ his mom roared over the rain.

  ‘Wha- Mom!’ Righello shrieked. ‘Did you shoot him?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about that man, Righello!’ his mom continued, hugging him tight. ‘Just get out of here! Your powers will protect you in the storm!’

  ‘Mom-’

  ‘This is your dad helping us, Righello!’ she screamed. ‘Leave the house before the police get here! Go somewhere safe! I’ll find you once this is over!’

  ‘I’m not leaving you!’

  ‘Yes, you are! If the police see you here it’ll only get you into trouble! Go!’

  Righello couldn’t stop staring at Marino’s lifeless body on the ground. A diluted pool of blood had formed beneath him. Probably diluted more so with grease than water.

  ‘But you’ll get into trouble! Come with me!’

  ‘Marino!’ an unfamiliar voice called from outside the front door. ‘Come on, man!’

  Righello’s eyes widened.

  ‘His friend’s here, Righello!’ Righello’s mom’s voice was full of desperation. ‘Go! He’ll call the police!’

  Marino’s friend entered the living room. A giant man, at least six-foot-five, wearing a damp grey beanie that matched his grey coat and grey jeans. His piggy blue eyes stared at the scene in front of him from deep within his fat eye sockets.

  ‘Oh…’ he murmured. ‘It was supposed to be the other way around…’

  He hurled a bottle at Righello, a bottle that Righello hadn’t even noticed that he was carrying. It missed.

  ‘Righello! Go! Get somewhere safe! Anywhere other than Venice!’

  ‘Come with me, Mom, please!’ Righello pleaded, feeling hot tears come to his eyes.

  His mom pushed him as Marino’s friend dived on her. Righello watched, horrified, as the man pinned his mom to the ground and dialled 112.

  He realised his mom was right. He had to run. Despite all his promises, all his threats, to kill Marino, to save his mom, he had to leave her and trust that she would keep herself safe.

  A single tear made its way down Righello’s cheek.

  ‘Find me!’ he called as he bolted for the front door.

  Leaping over Marino’s body, Righello noticed that there was a small pistol in his back pocket.

  The young boy made his way out onto the street without so much as a coat or even a phone. The stormy winds and torrential rain battered him from all sides, nearly knocking him over.

  For a moment, he wondered how he would even get anywhere. He couldn’t run all the way out of Venice. But he could at least try.

  Righello dashed through the streets, probably stunning everyone who was driving that night. But he didn’t care. He just needed to get away from that house.

  Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain. He’d left his mom. He should have at least tried to take her with him. Regardless of whether she wanted to or not. He should have tried.

  ‘I’m sorry…’ Righello wept through retches about half an hour later. He was crouched behind a pub, dripping with rainwater and standing above a pool of his own vomit. His entire body ached. ‘Please, Mom…be safe…’

  Years later, Righello returned to Venice with Maltor.

  It was a cloudy day, with only mild winds, and the two stood atop a hill overlooking a small section of the city. They were in a graveyard.

  Maltor had promised to give Righello privacy and had stood a few feet away, facing a tree.

  Righello stared down at the headstone in front of him, his upper lip curled into a snarl.

  Marino Armani

  08/01/1978 – 23/01/2019

  ‘They couldn’t even put a basic sentence for you, could they?’ Righello growled.

  He spat on the headstone.

  ‘Possa Zeus maledire te e la tua anima.’

  Not a single day had gone by that Righello did not resent the man that his mother had married.

  When he and Maltor had gone to Venice, they had tried to gather information on his mother, but they had come up short. Perhaps she was dead. Or maybe she was in an incredibly secure prison. Righello just hoped that she was safe. And if she were dead, he hoped that she was resting well.

  ‘You alright?’ Quinn’s voice dragged Righello back into the present day. ‘You look like you’ve just seen something horrible.’

  Righello clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead. The whiteness of the corridor was almost blinding, but he didn’t have the heart to look at his comrade.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Alright, man.’

  The two reached a set of black double doors. They both knew what lay on the other side.

  ‘Let’s hope we leave this room in one piece,’ Quinn tried, obviously attempting a joke.

  ‘Oh, we will,’ Righello replied dangerously, ignited by his sudden trip down memory lane. ‘Whether he will is a different question.’