camila cabello • one-shots & imagines ♡

hidden anger

WARNING; there's a little bit of gore and vidid details. read at your own risk!

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You're (Y/N) Drake, the only child of the two most awarded assassins of all time. At the time of your birth, your parents seemed nothing short of ordinary– reacting as any new parent would, doing what any couple would do when moving into a new house, blah blah blah. You get the gist, right?

Life for you at a young age was always fun and games up until the age of seven. You came rushing home, watching as lights flickered from police cruisers that were stationed at the front of your house. You didn't bother asking questions, perhaps a strangled sob of "what happened" and "what's wrong"' but you never waited for a response from anybody. Your tiny body pushed through a gathered crowd that stood behind fixed fences and yellow caution tape– consisting of the neighbors you had grown familiar with and the members of law enforcement prohibiting them from exploring any further.

You hurried to the front door, ignoring the mixtures of shouts and pleads to stop you from advancing any further but it was too late. As you swung open the door, you immediately caught sight of a trail of blood. An imprint of a man's shoe is all you knew. As you followed it, there laid your parents. Your mother's body sprawled on the carpeted floor, a gunshot wound to the abdomen and to the chest. Blood spewed from the injuries and you could only watch as the ocean color in her eyes were now grey. Beside her was your father, his body faced down as his hand was rested on your mother's stomach. He must've attempted to try and stop the bleeding but to no avail. Your in-bred senses figured that there was no way your mother could be saved. Bullet holes were agape in your father's back, his blood staining the floor beneath him and pooling around the two lifeless bodies.

It reminded you of a horror scene– it was gruesome. Flowers were messily scattered about and the vase that it was once held in was shattered and strewn across the carpet like a decoration. You could only notice the back door was left ajar and broken until tears blurred your eyes and your body wracked with sobs. A sudden embrace came from behind you, making you jump in shock but it was only until the familiar voice of your uncle rang in your ear.

"C'mon, kiddo. C'mon, I know." He beckoned. It only made the tears that spilled from your eyes worsen. The last thing you remembered was kicking and screaming with all your might, hoping that your parents would hear your desperate attempt to wake them up. As strong arms pulled you back, you wished with all your heart that the scene you witnessed was just a nightmare.

It was every child's worse reality.

You constantly thought that your parents were merely pulling a prank on you. That during the time you had slept, they'd clean up their mess and the blood that clung to their bodies. Nope. When you woke up, it was only an hour of your life wasted away. You could barely lay down for fear of thinking that somebody else, perhaps the same person that murdered your parents, would creep through your window and silence you for good.

Your face would be dampened by tears that rolled down your face, and your uncle would be right there in just a matter of seconds to comfort you.

-

By the age of twelve, you had already been deemed as your uncle's child. The man gladly took charge as the father figure in your life and taught you all the fundamentals of being an appropriate human being. You never understood why you had to live through life like this, it was never planned and you wanted to hate your uncle because you were convinced that he was doing this out of pity for you.