Sergei and Jono
Sergei stared at the screen as the bottom dropped out of his world. "Nyet," he denied softly.
The newspaper article from over a year ago refused to disappear from the computer screen, defiantly existant. 'Mikhael Rasputin and his family, which consisted of his wife, Marya and their five children who ranged in age from fifteen to one, were killed during a car crash...'
"Nyet." He'd been looking for them...and found this instead.
'The mother and the three youngest children were killed instantly... Mr Rasputin died from blood loss en route to hospital...the two older children died from wounds sustained in the accident...'
"Nyet."
'Their eldest son, Sergei, is believed to have suicided a few months before...'
But he hadn't.
'Family and friends gathered to pay their respects...Mr Rasputin was a highly respected member of his community...he and his family will be sorely missed...'
"Nyet. Nyet."
'Prayers were said, and a composition of one of the girls, Katya, was read at the joint funerals...'
My little Katya. Nyet. This can't be right...
The words floated in front of his eyes, and he pushed away violently from the computer.
Jonothon sat up on his bed in surprise as Sergei ran...right through a wall. What in the bleeding 'eck? He went over to the computer to see what had disturbed his friend so, and sat down heavily in the chair as he read. Oh, you poor bastard.
Sergei ran through the mansion, sobs choking him and he started to glow with radiation as he blindly ran towards the outside. He reached the free air, and threw his head back to howl his denial. "NYET!" The air crackled and sang about him, then a tree in front of him exploded as he vented his rage. A series of explosions rocked the earth, and his long hair whipped up as the unearthly glow covered his black skin. His eyes were deep black pools of pain. He couldn't handle this. He had waited so long to see them...sometimes that hope was the only thing keeping him alive.
And they had died before he could get out. Sergei wailed his loss.
Sergei's howling of grief echoed through the air, accompanied by deep booms of things exploding as he vented his rage at the world. The world that had torn him from his family, forever. And left them believing he had suicided. He could never go home to Russia now. Never. It would be too hard to explain...
He could never visit their graves.
A tree shattered into a million pieces.
He would never hold his sisters or his mother again.
The wind whipped the strands of his long hair harder around his face so they felt like a thousand small whips stinging his skin.
He would never see his father's smile, or hear his brothers laugh again.
The glow embedded under his skin flared outwards for a moment, killing everything within a metre radius with deadly nuclear radiation.
He would never hear Katya read her poems aloud to him, while he smiled fondly and ruffled her hair because she hated it.
His eyes were black straight across, but glowing with barely leashed power. He tried to catch his breath.
Sergei?
"Don't come near me, Jono. I'm not safe," Sergei told him in a dead voice, cracked and broken.
Sergei...
"They're dead."
Yeah...read it on the computer.
"I never....I never got to say goodbye. And now I can neverrr go home."