Pull The Trigger ||Rae Sremmurd|| [ON HOLD]

Avenge Me

Khalif Brown was eleven when he witnessed his parents get murdered. He could still hear the sound of multiple shots being fired throughout the house. He could still feel his mother's hands covering his mouth, a sticky substance known as blood on her hands. He could still taste the blood from her fingers. She whispered to him harshly, telling his brother to shut up and telling him to wipe the tears from his eyes. They had no time for tears, she told them.

They hid under the small twin bed, Khalif begged their mother not to leave them. She ignored his pleads and gave them both a thousand kisses and tight hugs until they couldn't breath. She escaped from under the bed, stepping over her husband's dead body and grabbed her gun. The only thing that Khalif and his brother could hear was yelling, things breaking, and then a gun shot.

They could smell smoke, and they hurried to the trashed living room, staring at their mother's limp body laying on the floor. His shirt was being pulled by his brother, out of the house. They watched from afar, everything they knew, everything they grew to love, including their parents, gone. Just like that.

His brother didn't cry, for some odd reason. He just wrapped his arm around his shoulders and they talked about that time when they all went to Chucky Cheese for Khalif's eighth birthday. Silent tears ran down Khalif's face as they talked and walked, no shoes of course. He stared down at the ground, watching the mud seep into his skin.

It was dark outside, a little cold, and his feet hurt from stepping on the ground without shoes, but nonetheless he kept walking alongside his brother. They reached a small but neat building after walking about ten blocks. Khalif wiped some of his stray tears with his dirty hand and looked over to his brother, who was staring at the building with an emotionless expression.

"This is our new home." He told him, his voice strained. And Khalif knew that he wanted to cry. Khalif intertwined their hands as his brother dragged him to the entrance of the building. His feet were numb and he felt as if he couldn't take another step.

"What's this place called Aaquil?" He couldn't help but to be curious. It was bigger than their old house and he could smell the aroma of food coming from inside, and it made him realize how hungry he was. But he ignored it, looking up at his brother who was only an inch or two taller than him.

"Called a shelter," He told him. The two just stood there, staring at the large wooden door in wonder. For the first time, his brother kissed his temple and held his hand tighter. "Mama not coming back." He said, blinking his eyes slowly. Then, he knocked on the door while Khalif just stood there, shuffling his feet and letting tears well up in his eyes again.

In some sad way, he already knew that his mother would never come back. He didn't know much about death back then, but he knew wanted cause it, to the man who hurt his mother and his father.

He swore revenge.
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He was sixteen when he killed a man. The same man that killed his parents. He shot him multiple times, enjoying the feeling of the gun jerking in his hand and the feeling of the man's blood pooling at his feet. He dragged the body by the legs with his glove covered hands and threw him down a hill, onto the city traffic. He laughed at the sight of his limp body laying there on the freeway.

A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He walked back to the shelter, thinking about how he just took a person out of the world, he liked the feeling, could get used to it. He thought maybe it was just adrenaline, the rush of doing something bad. But he still thought about it days later, a smile coming to his face when the crime came on the news.

The police didn't have any clues or leads about who could've done this. Aaquil found out about what he did when he saw the dried up blood stains on his shoes, and promised that he wouldn't tell.

But Khalif knew that his brother was curious. He knew that he wanted to ask. So, one night when the whole shelter was asleep, he told him.

"It felt good, Aaquil." Aaquil didn't have to ask what he was talking about, because he already knew. After that, he wonders what it would be like if he himself killed a person. If he would like the feeling, he doubts it considering that he gets squeamish even thinking about blood.

The two go to the same school, right around the corner from the shelter. They don't have any friends, they have each other. Their mother used to tell them all the time that all they needed in the world was each other. Anyway, Aaquil is getting bullied and beat up by some losers that are always hanging out behind the school, skipping their classes.

Khalif finds him in the bathroom one day, his nose bleeding and his lip busted. So, the same night they sneak out of the shelter, and Khalif teaches his brother how to kill all three of them. Aaquil has no mercy on them, ignoring their begging and pleading and stabs them to death, then shoots them in the head.

There was blood on his hands and a little on his face, but he likes it. Likes the fact that he has a different side to him, a dark side, so does his brother. But Khalif has a much darker side, and at first it worries him.

Khalif smiles, showing his pearly whites and they walk back to the shelter together after getting rid of the bodies, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders.

Aaquil takes a shower that night and watches the blood slowly come off his skin, but the darkness around his heart is here to stay.

Khalif sat on the toilet while Aaquil showered, cleaning and reloading the gun that his brother used to kill those fucking assholes that deserved to die. They can't go back to who they were, it was too late for that. They didn't just change into these type of people, they were made. They were destined to be killers.
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