The Bound Demon

The morning sun filtered through the dusty window, casting soft rays across the small, dim room. Elyon stirred beneath the thin blanket, his body stiff and sore. His stomach growled, a hollow ache that had become all too familiar.

He pulled himself up, wiping away the remnants of sleep. His green eyes, dull and clouded, shifted to the small kitchenette in the corner. He moved quietly, the floorboards creaking under his bare feet.

Elyon reached for the bread, its edges stale, and a carton of milk, almost empty. His fingers worked with care, piecing together a humble breakfast. A slice of bread, a bit of butter, and a small glass of milk—hardly a feast, but enough to ease the gnawing pain in his stomach.

Balancing the tray in his hands, Elyon approached the bedroom door. His adoptive mother lay sprawled on the bed, her hair tangled, the room reeking of alcohol and old smoke. Her snores filled the air, a harsh contrast to the fragile peace of the morning.

Elyon hesitated, his small voice barely a whisper. "Mom? Breakfast is ready."

Her eyes snapped open, bloodshot and sharp. Her face twisted, and before he could react, her hand shot out, a slap echoing through the room.

"You dare wake me up? You ungrateful brat!"

The tray clattered to the floor, the glass shattering, milk pooling around shards and crumbs. Elyon stumbled back, his cheek burning, eyes wide with shock and hurt.

She kicked the tray away, pieces scattering across the floor. Without another word, she turned over, pulling the blanket over her head. The room fell silent once more, only her muttered curses lingering in the air.

Elyon stood frozen, the world around him blurred by the sting of tears. His stomach twisted, not just from hunger but from a deeper, sharper pain. His knees gave out, and he sank to the floor, staring at the mess around him.

He reached out, trembling hands brushing over the food. Ants were already swarming, their small bodies crawling over every crumb. His fingers stopped, pulling back as if burned.

The god of flowers, once surrounded by beauty and abundance, now sat starving on a cold floor, defeated by ants.

A soft sob escaped his lips, his shoulders shaking. His fingers found the edge of his sleeve, pulling it back to reveal old bruises and fresh cuts. He unwrapped the old bandages, the stained fabric peeling away from his skin.

Elyon bit his lip, focusing on the pain of the antiseptic rather than the ache in his heart. He worked methodically, cleaning each wound, wrapping new bandages with the precision of someone who had done this far too many times.

When he finished, he curled up against the wall, his eyes fixed on the window. The sky was bright and blue, a world so far away from his own.

"Find me... I will always find you."

The words fluttered through his mind, a gentle breeze in his storm. He closed his eyes, letting the dream take him, if only for a moment.