A Power Game

His entire body felt numb with pain, and Mhykol tried to scream. He writhed, trying in vain to call out for help, reaching out to anybody who would help soothe his agony. The cold seemed to seep through his skin, climbing across his bones like a spiderweb of icy tendrils. It burrowed itself in his marrow, and solidified the blood in his veins.

In desperation, Mhykol tried to move his body. The pain faded slowly, leaving him gasping, only to be replaced by a dull throbbing. It was as if his soul was a bass drum, trying its best to beat its way out from his tiny, helpless body. His legs were the worst, because it felt as if they weren't his own. Desperately, he tried to kick, but his legs refuse to move. Not even a dull throb of pain came from his lower body. Tears leaked slowly out of Mhykol's eyes, their salty warmth tracing lines down his pale, frozen face.

Mhykol was eight months old.

Slowly, the pounding faded. The deep, booming rhythm slowed, shuddering like a dying man. It was like a light bulb whose dimmer switch is being leisurely decreased. The light still shone, but weakly. Mhykol saw black spots appear in his vision, swirling in front of his eyes like a hundred ebony sparks.
Sable light.
Then, the scariest part of all, it began to stop. It was slow at first, but the dimmer began to turn. Mhykol felt the drum in his chest shudder, creaking at the pressure of his own breathing. It happened slowly, and then all at once. The switch flicked. His heart turned off.

-

Mhykol sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving as he struggled to control his rapid, gasped breathing. His pale grey-blue eyes were wide in horror as he stared at the far wall of his small apartment bedroom.

Slowly, he breathing evened, and Mhykol unclenched both hands from around his thin white sheets. With one final, deep, relaxing breath, Mhykol fell back onto his pillows. The smooth satin, slightly damp from the sweat of his nightmare, felt cool against his clammy skin.

It's just a nightmare. Thank God.

He could still remember it that well. The touch of cold, the light hand of death. Lighter than a feather, yet heavier than a mountain, as Milly often said.

Glancing over at the alarm clock on his desk table, Mhykol's eyes widened slightly in surprise. 8:02, said the clock in vivid, slowly-flashing red numbers. It was April 17th, his birthday. Groaning, Mhykol threw one arm across his eyes, flipping over in his bed so that he could bury his already hidden face in his pillows.

The calm silence was abruptly broken as his door crashed open. Bright light spilled into his dark room, momentarily blinding Mhykol, who sat upright quickly, shielding his eyes with one hand. As expected, two people stood in the doorway. Both the children, for children they were, smiled down at him warmly.

"G'morning brother!"

The young boy, who was about 14, reached out one hand to smack him in the shoulder, before stopping with a sheepish glance at his sister.

"Er, how'd you sleep, bro?"

Mhykol groaned again for good measure, flopping back onto his pillows. Grabbing one of the stuffed white cubes from beside his head, he hurled it forcefully at the two children.

"Get - the - fuck - OUT!"

Mhykol's words had no effect on the two children. Skipping over, the younger girl sat down on the edge of Mhykol's bed, poking at him curiously with one finger. The tip of her finger was freezing cold against the exposed skin of his chest, and he whimpered slightly. Grabbing his blankets, he pulled them up around his chest and head, hiding underneath. Even without using his eyes, he could sense the young girls playful grin. He popped his head out from underneath the cover, but his eyes remained thin, cold and intimidating. Irritatingly, the girl refused to be intimidated.

"It's your birthday!" Her voice was high and light, the sound of the sky right before it began to snow. Beneath it was something slightly like a murmur, far more mature than most young girls.Then again, Sidney was more mature than most girls her age in a lot of ways.

With a deep sigh, Mhykol pushed the girl off the side of his bed. She squeaked as she hit the floor with a bump, jumping up indignantly.

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you to be courteous to ladies?!" Her voice was aggrieved, but playful.

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you to knock before coming into a room? I was busy."

"Busy with what?" Both children's voices chorused, the boy's disbelieving, the girl's interested.

"Sleeping."

"You were awake when we came in!"

"That was the problem."

Rolling her eyes, Sidney grabbed him by one arm, pulling gently.

"Come on! Come on! Get out of bed lazy bones! Roman and I are leaving for school soon, and we want to celebrate with you first!" The pleading in her voice coupled with those gorgeous, sad puppy-dog eyes rent his heart.

"Gah, fine, whatever. Roman, bring me my noble steed."

The boy at the end of the bed smiled slightly before turning and walking out of the room. A moment later, he reappeared pushing a large metal computer chain, complete with massive rotating wheels. It was the most impressive wheelchair Mhykol had ever seen. It should be; he had made it.

Levering himself out of bed, he ignored the arm that Sidney reached out to help him. If he had to choose one thing that was the worst about being a cripple, it was the damn sympathy. He didn't need anybodys' pity, as kind-hearted and innocent as it was. He was whole in the only way it mattered; his mind. Unfortunately, his legs disagreed completely. As the other boy pushed the wheelchair close to the side of the bed, Mhykol nearly rolled himself into it, pushing himself up with his strong, capable arms.

Gesturing to the two other children, he held one hand towards the open door.

"After you."

They both smiled, bowing slightly to him, before exiting the room. Mhykol followed quickly, spinning the rubber wheels with his calloused palms, propelling himself forwards. Luckily, Milly had replaced all the stairs in the house with ramps when they had adopted Mhykol. Resting his fingers against the wheel rims, Mhykol simply let himself roll down the ramp to the kitchen. The rotating metal felt familiar against his fingers, like holding hands with someone he had known for years.

"Good morning, Mikey!"

Milly's enthusiastic voice instantly blew away Mhykol's sleepiness. Just being around the woman was like a constant cocaine fix. Strange, seeing as she was four-foot-nothing and build like a stick. Other than her chest, which in itself attracted more than enough attention. That, coupled with her bleach-blonde hair, brilliant smile, and bubbly personality, attracted more than a few suitors. Strangely, the petite, graceful woman had been alone since she had taken Mhykol in. By her own choice, obviously.

Mhykol had never bothered to ask why. Everyone had skeletons better left buried.

"G'morning Milly." The tongue felt too large in his mouth, and his voice was still garbled by sleep. Instead of 'Good Morning Milly', he managed 'Guhmumih'.

Close enough.

"Yeah whatever. Gummy to you too, Mhykol." She turned to the other two kids, smiling widely. "You three hungry? I made breakfast!"

All three groaned in synchrony. Milly had many talents, but a chef she was not. If she managed not to blacken any part of a meal, and that was far from a certain thing, then it was called a success. The tiny woman seemed to think that simply adding obnoxious amounts of salt could make anything taste delicious; including charcoal.

Luckily, she simply giggled, holding up one slim hand to cover her ruby lips.

"I'm joking of course. We're going out."

The three children exchanged relieved looks.

"Everybody dies-" Roman began,
"-but today-" Sidnay continued,
"will not be that day." Mhykol finished.

Milly shot all three children an exhasperated look. "Oh come on!" He widened her eyes, inclining her head to one side. "I'm not THAT bad."

"Oh yeah, mom." Mhykol said acerbically, "you're THAT bad."