A True Hero

Chapter 1

I grunted in anger as I stepped past the threshold, gritting my teeth as I kicked the rickety door shut behind me. I harshly threw my recurve bow towards the corner of the room, knowing without physical evidence that it landed safely onto a pile of loose hay. My Evo 6 waterproof boots stomped as loud as possible as I crossed over to the other side of the large room. I paid no mind to the usual dankness in the atmosphere, nor the reek of the rotting wood that held this place together. Coming to a stop with a final thump of the shoe, that seemed to top all others, I slammed my tightly clenched fist onto the oak wood table before me. I stood their with my fist glued to the oak, my figure still while faced slightly downwards, my features hidden behind the low hood of my worn wool cloak.

He made not a move to signify that he was there, but i knew that he was seated behind the very table I stood before. I couldn't bring myself to face him.

Inhaling deeply, I finally found the words to speak, actually "the word" would be more accurate. Holding back any emotions from revealing themselves, I slightly parted my lips and asked, "Why?"

That was all I could manage. Any more, that I'm aware, and I would've broken down completely. So I held my tongue, not wanting to show more weakness than needed to a potential enemy. I logically waited upon his response.

The wait was long. He made not a move for the longest time. If I hadn't known him as well as I did at that particular moment, I would've began to doubt my knowledge of his presence. But same as he, I unhesitantly stood my ground.

Following an eternity of silence, came his response, "I did what had to be done."

That was it. That was all I got after his betrayal. It could have been worse. He could've played dumb. Actually, maybe then it would've been easier to process, despite the anger and stress it would've caused in me.

After all, his current response fell upon me like a stone dropping straight down onto the bottom of my stomach. My mind was incapable of processing any information. All senses throughout my body were disbanded, my nerves frozen like ice. My entire being was still. It was as if my essence had never existed.

Then I simply stood straight up and turned my back on him. I had no problem hiding emotion then, for both mind and soul were blank.

I strode towards the door, kicking up my bow and snatching it midair, head faced forward. My hand instinctively found and turned the handle. Not having yet opened the door, I slightly turned my head towards him.

"I'll never forgive you."

I faced forward once again as the door was pushed open. Not even a glance back as I stepped over the threshold and onto the familiar fresh forest soil.

Weaving throughout the shrubbery, I walked until woods were the only thing within a mile radius. I knew he wouldn't follow, I knew he couldn't see me. So I stopped; I took a deep breath; and i screamed. I let everything go. Everything that I held every miserable moment of my life. Every time I bit my tongue or buried something deep into my soul was being reimbursed and dug up.

Why did this have to happen to me? I didn't ask for this life. It wasn't fair. Life was never fair. Not to me anyway.

Then I stopped. And I thought. And I asked, instead, "How did this happen?"

____

I silently strode down the cracked pavement alongside my younger sister, Roadie, Caroline and Nicholas not far behind. I could hear Carol and Nick chatting joyfully about swords. They both agreed that modern day weapons couldn't bring out one's full potential. Tell that to the cops who kept shooting at us two days ago. I guarantee that it wouldn't end well. I may have confused you with mention of the cops, so I guess I shall explain. First and Foremost, I'm homeless. I'm known by the cops as a thief. I'm also an orphan, a brother, and a parent. My name is Raidan, I have no last name. My sister, as you may already know, is Roadie, pronounced like the male counterpart, Rhode. I'm only around 13 or 14, my sister several years younger. We've been on the streets for almost eight years, now; surviving, fighting, running, and hiding. My only blood relative that I know of is Roadie, but Carol insists that my family is larger than it seems. For the sake of Roadie, I believed her.

When I was alone and afraid, starving and sick after providing all rations for my baby sister, I had no hope for myself. Yet I was given some. By Damian. Damian. He's difficult to describe. I'll explain him last.

Carol, Short for Caroline, was the mother hen. Only with an extra attribute. She's a bad ass. Every time we were cornered in combat, she came to our rescue, showing no mercy to those who threatened the safety of those she cared about. Thankfully, she cared about me enough to not have left me to die the many times she could have. Once she was even injured trying to protect me. When I first met Carol, her greeting was trying to stab me in the gut with a staff. We were engaged in combat for almost 20 minutes straight before I noticed the small child watching from behind a nearby building. This turned out to be Nicholas, Nick for short. He was only a toddler at the time, abandoned and alone since birth. Carol found him and took him in, even gave him a name.

We decided that it'd be safer and easier to travel in a group as compared to a kid taking care of a younger kid, so ever since, we've been traveling the country together, rationing what we could, with the occasional pickpocket or shoplift. We never stayed in one place for too long, unwanted and unwelcome. It wasn't our fault that danger had always gravitated towards each of us. I guess that's why we stuck with each other. We all understood our situation better than any adult ever would. We all knew the police only ever got in our way.

Sometimes we weren't just surviving, but thriving. Up to the point of time, we each had multiple sets of clothing. Only one outfit fully equipped with protection and a weapon that suited our preference. Except for Nick, that is, in fact we were on our way to pick his new weapon up right now. Could we get in trouble as underage adolescents without licenses buying or using a weapon? The answer to that is both yes and no. For, under normal circumstances, we wouldn't even be sold the weapon and probably be reported to the local police. But these weren't normal circumstances. The reason for that: We had Damian on our side. He knew things that we didn't, he knew people. He knew everything, because if he came upon a question that he didn't have the answer to, there was nothing that could hold his curiosity back. Now that I look back on it, I don't truly consider it curiosity. Well, he knew that the nearby provider would be willing to sell us a satisfactory weapon given the right price. What that price was, Damian had easily found out without actually asking the merchant himself.

What went on in his head was a mystery to me, but his brains have aided us an innumerable amount of times so I couldn't complain, yet I still can't help but wonder.

I thought very highly of Damian at the time. He gave me wisdom, hope, shelter, training, resources, and so much more. He trusted me and I him. He's told me many things, sometimes to teach, sometimes to relieve, and every once in awhile just to show that he cared. He rarely revealed his emotions when others were around, more often around just me and Roadie years after finding us. I never questioned his decisions or motives, always trusted and went by his word, obeyed his every command. I felt obliged. After all, this was the man who taught me something special. He explained what I felt for Roadie, what she felt me, and he as well. The four letter word~Love.

This was what families felt for each other, even close friends. That's the only reason we were all a family, we all grew to love and care for each other. I didn't fully understand at the time, not getting the full picture. I realized later on just how much he kept from me, although still appreciating much of his wisdom.

He told me that he loved me and I, thinking that I understood, said it back.

Carol led us into the shop, Nick and Roadie trailing behind with me in the rear.

I could feel the suspicious yet silent gaze of the man behind the counter, who made not a move, but assessed with his eyes. Roadie was studying some stuff on the wall alongside an erratic Nick, all the while Carol was closely supervising.

The man's presence had suddenly vanished. He seemed to have disappeared through a door behind the counter while I was preoccupied with Roadie and Nick.

Taking precautionary measures, I silently strode into the other room. Finding nothing of importance, I headed back towards the main room. I never made it.

The man stood, as tall and wide as the door frame itself, entirely blocking the exit. He reached forward at a calm pace, but when I tilted back to dodge, he struck forward with lightening speed and grasped my upper arm. His grip was unimaginably tight, calloused hands rough against my skin. Not being that strong myself, I knew I couldn't escape without help, so I blew a sharp whistle with my free hand.

Then all hell broke loose.