DISCLAIMER: Mature topics are mentioned throughout the book such as; racial violence, strong language, discrimination, depression, self-harm, sexual references, and neglect. If the topics make you uncomfortable or you're under the age of 16, it is at your own risk to read further. This disclaimer will be seen once in the book, no warnings of listed topics will be mentioned in advance.
...
"Freak."
You were surrounded, why couldn't you have kept your mouth shut.
"Worthless."
You're so idiotic to think they would accept you.
"Mutant."
The bodily figures enclosed around you like a tormenting circle, names and profanities slipping out of their up curled mouths. One of them made physical contact with you, their grey hand shoving forward and you stumbling back. You want to fight, you want to take on the crowd in efforts to escape, but you can't. Your legs are frozen in place, your throat is dry enough to not even emit a sound for help, you were a coward. The space was getting smaller and tighter as they lingered forward and shoved you again. The force made you tumble onto your side, hands being cut from the rough cement of the ground. Tears started to stream down your face as a foot quickly took an open shot to your stomach, the pain making you tremble yet no sign of your voice's recovery.
The assault continued and progressively had gotten more aggressive. You had curled into a protective ball and cupped your hands over your face, which didn't do much, as the trail of red tears stained your cheeks with vain. Every kick, every lashing only made you feel more numb from their attacks.
They stopped and backed away, most likely to view the prized damage they've done to you. Not only physically, but emotionally pathetic and unmoving; unthinking.
You coughed. Your fingers slowly moved away and revealed blood, red blood. It coated your hands as your body shook violently, unable to keep the adrenaline that's slipping from your numbed body. You tried moving but grimaced in pain, everything hurt. The tears had stopped and your vision is blurry, sleepy even. You just want to close your eyes and escape the world around you, ease the pain. You feel like you're being suffocated, your throat unable to take in air as you gasped. Your hands went around your throat in a failed attempt to ease the choking. Your eyes squinted to see no one around to help nor save you, yet you felt a sense of happiness for that idea.
You rolled onto your back and let your arms drop to your sides limply, blood on your clothes, hands, and face. It seemed as if you were ready to let go, slip away and feel nothing. Your eyes drooped as the only thing you hear was the sound of your own choking.
Everything faded, feeling, sight, and emotion until nothing.
...
"Karkat!"
A sudden rush of sunlight abruptly blinded your tired eyes, the blanket now shed from your cold body. You hissed at the surprise and shifted away in the sheets of your bed, not really wanting to get up at all. Just like the cliche teenager you are, protesting seemed to be the smartest but always failed sooner or later. As to who you assumed the voice was; your brother, you ignored the fact that he greedily stole the only source of heat and will never forgive his sins.
You heard a sigh as footsteps made their way distant, "You are so stubborn at times, I swear Karkat. It's nearly noon and you've yet to even move a muscle! Father wants you and I downstairs for breakfast this morning, or might I say afternoon, if you even care to the delight of processed meat and other animal consumptions that are to the most barbaric customs." The door shut and you slowly opened your eyes, adjusting them to the bright setting of the familiar messy block. Your brother doesn't learn that force will never work, though he's smart enough to list all of the elements on the periodic table in order and by memory.
The very mention of food made you have enough motivation to get out of the trap you call a bed, well, a human mattress on the hard floor. You groggily sit up and stretch an arm into the air, giving a grunt like noise before settling your feet on the cold flooring. Your mind raced with the still fresh dream you just had, so real to an extent of feeling the shit that got dealt. They've been getting progressively worse every night, and you're not too sure how much more you could take before the decision of not sleeping at all would be considered a good idea. The thought of you being happy and relieved from your life is half true, but the actual leaving part would be quite difficult. Your moirail ( best friend ), you really don't want to leave the only person that cares of you rather the only quadrant you can actually keep a balance with. You love her, to the most extent of pale of course and wouldn't be that self-centered into disappearing without her consent.
A hand came up and slid down your face as you tried to get yourself situated for this morning's sociable affair with family. You stood up and walked over to the body length mirror that was nailed to your wall and gave a glare to the person staring back at you.
He was light grey, like a troll. He had the smallest of rounded off horns, as of like troll characteristics they were all born with a set but differ with blood. Of course a human would look at him and think troll, but a troll would know who the Vantas family was and always will be. They were red-blooded, secretly mutants, outcasts of their own species as well as humans. This troll was born cursed into the Vantas name as of two other males and there was no way out of it. Not only his horns, but his eyes were the catch to be categorized under the hemospectrum. A light lace of red outlined around the blackness of his pupil, and you hated it. This only meant that he was maturing into an adult, like every other troll in this mixed species world and he won't be able to hide his blood anymore.
You take a step back from the troll and grab some tattered pants and a black sweater to cover your half bare body, he mockingly mimics every move of yours which made you growl.
Speaking of growl, your stomach is probably threatening to eat your kidney and personally, you wouldn't like that. You left your room and traveled down the narrow hallway, into the mealblock that was set up with a small table and four chairs. It thrived with the voices of your father, and your brother, along with the sizzling of bacon. The two Vantas' halted their conversation and the unwanted attention towards you as you made the grand entrance, slipping into one of the empty chairs.
Your father gave you a slight twitch of his eyebrow, "You've decided to join us." It seemed as if there was surprise in his voice, but you didn't acknowledge it. Instead, your fork dug into the piece of bacon and chomped into it. Your taste buds were going wild with excitement, too bad you can't show the same on the outside.
"I see you're enjoying the food, Karkat?" Your name was said once again and you hesitantly looked up from the plate of delicious food. Your sibling was giving you a weak smile at his accomplishments, although you didn't share what you wanted to say for the sake of argument. The food was definitely great, but that tasted like moms cooking instead of your brothers. As impossible as it seems, he must've gotten into the old recipe book we used to hide away. He sat down to the left of your father and you directly in front, the empty chair to your left stayed unoccupied.
Silence and the sound of forks hitting plates filled the air for a few moments before your father started to speak with your brother about something unimportant to you. You have no idea how Kankri can hold a conversation with your father, to the extent of him being significantly older than you, he can't relate to neither of you on a personal level. You've never actually had that father-son connection most kids have with their parents, for which you don't give two shits about in the first place.
"Well?" Your fathers voice snapped you out of the extensive thoughts and you made eye contact with him.
"Huh?" A sense of nervousness filled your senses as he stared you down.
He cleared his throat before speaking again, "I said, after I get back, I'm going to get you a job."
You blinked, focusing on his expression as your nerves settled down. "A job...?"
He gave a smile and nodded, his hand coming up and scratching the light stubble of his chin, "It was an idea. Your brother agreed to it, since I've been gone most of the time and suggested he can show you the ropes." He seemed quite into the whole idea of getting you into the work force. Do you really want to begin contributing unfairly to society at this age? Well, you are almost to the legal age of eight point four sweeps ( 18 human years ). That's when you get the choice of working in your blood rank, or taking that high risk and making a run. Though it seemed sketchy for your dad to want anything to do with you, you gave him a nod which made him beam. It was rare to see such a sight you haven't seen since...
For a split second in time, everything seemed to be normal. No worries of killings, racial blander, casting, just a normal trollian family enjoying breakfast together. What scared the hell out of you the most, was how calm your father is approaching the situation without a single regret on his aged features. Whatever he's planning is hopefully going to work out well.
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're a mutant, an outcast, a misfit to your species. You live in a low income ghetto with your brother and supposed father, along with the secret overwhelming nightmares that plague your broken mind. You didn't ask to be born this way, into a caste system, to be more different than expected. You certainly didn't expect the father that ignored you for so long, wanted you to do something for once in your damned existence.
This is the story of your pathetic life.