The mental alarm Taurus had set failed to penetrate the exhaustion that had finally claimed him. Instead of the grey pre-dawn light, he woke to sunlight streaming through the grimy window and the sound of furious shouting. His eyes snapped open. Overslept. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the mental fog.
He scrambled off the mattress just as the door to his room burst open. Mrs. Ragnar stood there, her face contorted with rage, Tony lurking behind her, looking gleeful.
"So! You finally decide to wake up!" Mrs. Ragnar shrieked, her voice dangerously high. "Do you know what time it is, you lazy boy?"
Taurus flinched, his mind racing to calculate how much time had passed. He hadn't overslept this badly in years. "Aunt Rose, I—"
"Don't 'Aunt Rose' me!" she screeched, advancing into the tiny room. "The breakfast dishes aren't washed! Tony's car isn't polished! What were you doing all night, sleeping like a privileged prince? Oh, wait, you're not privileged, are you? You're just a burden!"
Tony snickered from the doorway. "Thought you could just wander off whenever you like, slave? Missed your beauty sleep?"
Taurus ignored Tony, focusing on Mrs. Ragnar. "I'm sorry, I just... I was tired. I'll do it now."
"Too late!" Her eyes were blazing. "We saw you weren't in your room yesterday when Tony went to check if you'd finished his cleaning! Where were you? Sneaking around? Stealing?"
"I wasn't stealing," Taurus said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. "I just... went out for a little while."
Mr. Ragnar appeared in the doorway behind Tony, dressed for work, briefcase in hand. He cast a brief, indifferent glance into the room, a spectator to the unfolding drama.
"Went out?" Mrs. Ragnar practically roared, scandalized. "You think you can just 'go out'? You think this is a hotel? We give you a roof over your head, food on your table – our food! – and you sneak out like a delinquent? Unbelievable audacity!"
"I didn't sneak," Taurus tried to explain, though the words felt hollow. How could he possibly explain?
"Silence!" Mrs. Ragnar's voice was laced with finality. "I've had enough. Absolutely enough. For twenty years, we took you in. We fed you, clothed you—"
"You made him work like a dog!" Tony interrupted, a wide, malicious grin splitting his face. "He was free labor!"
Mrs. Ragnar shot Tony a glare that silenced him, but her focus remained on Taurus. "He was given a home! A chance! And this is how you repay us? Disappearing? Shirking your duties?" She gestured wildly around the cramped room. "This is it. I'm done. If you can find time to disappear, you can find somewhere else to stay. You are no longer welcome here."
Taurus stared at her, stunned into silence. Expulsion? Just like that? After twenty years?
"Pack your things!" Mrs. Ragnar ordered, her voice now cold and hard. "Actually, don't bother. We'll do it." She lunged forward, grabbing the few worn shirts piled on the chair. Tony joined in, pulling a pair of trousers off a hook. They worked quickly, roughly, tossing his meager possessions into a haphazard pile on the floor. Taurus watched, paralyzed, as they grabbed his salvaged laptop, the old phone he rarely used openly, his worn shoes.
"All this junk," Tony muttered, kicking at a small stack of his books. "Finally getting rid of it."
"Out!" Mrs. Ragnar yelled, shoving the pile of belongings towards the door with her foot. "Get out of my house! Now!" She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and dragged him towards the garage door, Tony pushing him from behind.
Taurus stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden physical force. He didn't resist, a lifetime of ingrained obedience kicking in, but also a strange sense of detachment. This was happening. After all these years, they were just... throwing him out.
They shoved him through the door, out into the early morning light, the pile of his clothes and belongings tumbling after him onto the cold concrete porch.
"Don't come back!" Mrs. Ragnar's voice was the last thing he heard before the heavy garage door slammed shut with a resounding bang that seemed to shake the ground.
Taurus stood on the porch, barefoot, dressed only in the clothes he'd slept in, his few possessions scattered around his feet. The cold concrete seeped into his skin. He stared at the closed door, the finality of the sound echoing in the sudden silence. Twenty years. Gone. Just like that. He was outside, truly outside, with nothing but a handful of worn clothes and the staggering, impossible secret he carried within him. Stunned, vulnerable, and suddenly, utterly alone in the face of a world he barely knew existed.