The Vengeance by Allison Rios Read Free Book Online

himself from vision. Having been forced from his home by an angry and confused father, his only option became running – which his parents figured he did, as far away as he could possibly get.
    It had never occurred to them that he would still be so near. Yet he hadn’t had the strength to go. To leave his fragile mother alone would have been more than his heart could bear. He didn’t understand what his hands could do. From the moment they had come to life and he had healed that wound, his very soul knew that whatever the gift was, it was something wonderful. His father was alive and carried the everlasting scar from one of the most horrid days in his existence and Max knew that every glimpse of that terrible raised flesh would serve as a reminder of the breaking of his family. Perhaps that was enough punishment. While heated at first, Max slowly grew to understand the fear and rage his father had felt. The gift remained something not easy to understand. Many years would pass before Max took it all in.
    O nly once more after that fateful day where his father had banned him from the threshold of the only home he had known, that he would speak to a member of his family. As the entire family, sans his grandmother, donned their Sunday best and rode through the early morning fog to church services – hoping to erase whatever evil they felt he had brought upon them – he snuck closer to the house. He wanted to see if they had left anything of his that he might find useful.
    As he opened the creaking door , his conscience almost forced him away – he felt as though he was breaking and entering even though a short time ago, he had spent most of his time within the dilapidated walls.
    As he rounded the corner in the dirty kitchen he saw the splintered wooden table he had built with his father as a child adorning the middle of the room. Then he heard her voice. The high-pitched whisper cut through the stillness and he found himself gasping with a brief prayer that she wouldn’t be able to scream. While the neighboring homes were a good distance off, he judged by his previous luck that one would probably be outside about to knock for a cup of sugar.
    “Maxwell?” The voice was ancient and sickly; raspier than he remembered.
    No hint of fear seemed housed within the tone and the notion surprised him.
    He took a few steps back to open a clearer view of the downstairs bedroom, which they had obviously made her home since she couldn’t move the fragile bones of her body without assistance.
    “Grandmother…” he whispered, carefully trying with the few words between them to assess if she was disgusted by him or… or perhaps missing her grandson.
    “Come,” she whispered, her hand lightly patting the blanket over her stomach.
    She wanted him to sit with her. He looked cautiously around the room as though someone might be waiting to pounce.
    “I just knew you’d come back. They’re all gone…”  She knew exactly what he was thinking.
    He inched very slowly towards her bed, their eyes locked in a mutual staring competition. He focused on being careful not to touch her for fear of what his hands might do. He noted that her eyebrows were relaxed, her lips almost turning into a smile. She had always been beautiful to him, but her unconditional love at that moment made her even more so. He slid onto the quilt, scooping his hand underneath the fabric and then her hand, creating a barrier between their skin before lightly squeezing.
    The tears stung his eyes instantly. He hadn’t expected to be this close to anyone he loved again. From a distance he had watched her condition deteriorate until he knew , through her absence outdoors, that the time was near. He hadn’t seen a wooden coffin or a throng of visitors so he knew she was still alive. He also had thought with all of his heart that he’d never see her again.
    Growing up she had been the laughter in his life. His mother was a beautiful, sweet woman as well, but she was