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Zehn Jahre (Ten Years)

2:01AM, Thursday

"Shit, I'm late" The teen cursed, he sprung up and ran around his room hurriedly putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he slowed down as he put his hands on, losing motivation so suddenly. Then he fell to the ground.

Hearing the loud thump and and bloody screams from his son, his father runs into his room only to be greeted with the window open and snow coming inside the boys room. The father rushes over to him and picks him up and takes him out of the room.

His body was cold, his father let go and dropped the boy on the bed, he looked at his hands and they were burned. He sucks in a deep breathe and puts on a tough face for him. "It's okay George, we just need to get you to your mom."

Hearing her sons screams and not being able to rush to his aid hurt the still bed ridden mother. Even after 7 years her condition only allowed her to talk without getting winded, she sat up and waited for her husband.

She started picking at the back of her hand, she knew the consequences of taking the King and Queens blood but, she didn't know how to handle it. The door swung open and snow followed behind her husband as the boy was curled into ball.

George was 13 and knew who his biological parents were, his parents never kept him in the dark. They were an opal in his eyes, it wasn't a color but the gem held all the colors and that was what his parents were to him. All the good and the bad in one beautiful and strong gem.

Even though when he's 16 he has to be in that palace, he knew that he wasn't going to let the people who raised him go, they were his thread.

As he was trying to open his eyes he saw his mom, she was saying something but he couldn't hear, his ears were blocked. "C...on...l" he heard the voice say, what was it saying, "C...tro..." he screamed in agony as the ice felt like bones going through his body.

"Control," he heard a soft voice yell out, "What how," he yelled out, he could feel them talking but he couldn't see nor hear it. As another spike grew his screams grew weaker, he didn't know how much more he could take. "I have to control it," he thought.

He tried to think of the sun and how it stopped the waves but to no avail, he thought about how the moon controlled the tides but that made it worse and made them move faster. He couldn't scream anymore, the pain was too much and his voice was gone.

As both parents watched as the spikes grew closer and closer and their son squirmed and reached out for them, the woman realized she needs to be by his side wether it killed her or not.

As she jumped and sprinted towards him with all her might the spikes died down a little. She collapsed on the floor next to the boy and grabbed his hand, a spike wen through it and her face scrunched together. To her this was nothing like the last 7 years, she moved her face close to his hear.

One of the spikes hit her face and she barely moved out of the way fast enough, it only grazed her skin but it was sharp enough that it made a deep cut. She brushed it off again.

"Think of something you can control honey," the mother spoke softly, George perked up, being happy to hear his mother's soft familiar voice without her coughing.

He sat their now numb, not being able to feel the spikes as they kept growing out of him, "what can I control," he thought, he imagined everything physical he could control. To no avail, he started thinking of things like his emotions or his mentality, until he realized that the way he expressed his emotions might work.

It was a long shot to say the least but it was the only thing other than his spirituality, he thought about the color that calms him down, purple. He imagined lavenders, paints, and the sunset, he imagined it all.

Anything purple that gave him a sense of peace, he took a deep breath and opened tried opening his eyes. The solidly close lids fluttered opened, he squeezed them shut as the harsh light hurt him but he opened them again wanting to see his parents.

He sat up and rubbed his arms, "Mom, Dad," he said, his voice hoarse and broken from all the screaming, "I'm so glad you did it," his mother said throwing her arms around him. He smiled and hugged her back.

His dad joined in and his smile grew bigger, "Your powers manifested a little earlier than we expected," his mother said putting her hand behind her back. She didn't want him blaming himself, "he didn't ask for it so it wasn't his fault," she thought.

Her husband walks over to her and helps her up carefully leads her back to her bed, they both made an effort to not wince at their wounds.

He sighs, "They did," he tries to stand up but he couldn't, no matter how much he pushed his body, it stayed on the ground, "Dad, I can't get up," he says with a sad and sour look. "I got you bud," he responds, he hides his hands from him the best he could and pick George up.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to his dad when they leave the room, "Why are you apologizing," he asks and goes to the boys room, as he opened the door he was expecting all the cold weather to hit him but there was nothing there anymore. All the snow and ice that crept into his room was gone and didn't leave a trace that it was ever there.

"Dad, I feel..." the boy falls asleep before he could finish his sentence, the man laughs and gently sets him on the bed, being cautious of where he was hurting. "I love you bub," the man leans down and kisses his forehead and walks out of the room.

The man walks into the shared room and sighs to his wife, "are you okay?" He asks looking at all of her, "I'm fine," she responds between harsh coughs. "You know you shouldn't of done that," she nods and picks at her fingernails.

He grabs her hand and gently rubs her knuckles, "Let me get the first aid," he stands up and walks to the kitchen.

The house was quiet, soft foot steps and heavy winds could be heard throughout the house, the vibrant warm house grew gray and cold as both parents worried about their son.
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