clandestine.

three. part two.

"hemmings." i spoke to the phone. i had a couple thoughts on what the response i'm going to hear was, i wasn't wrong.

"luke," he took a deep breath.

"where the fuck are you?" i cracked a smile. I love hearing my brother's loving words to me through the phone. i open my mouth to speak back to him but he wasn't done talking just yet.

"you were supposed to stay at the club, and watch. so tell me why i heard from several people that you wandered off with- let me get this right- a guy that you were all over? you better have good reasons because when you decided to leave with your mystery boy, we had two of our men shot dead, and mission x interrupted."

i take a moment to take in what he said, "what was me watching them like a baysitter going to do?" i spoke back. getting myself killed too? I bet my ass he would have loved that.

i knew i was speaking my thoughts out loud when ashton shot me a glare from where he was sitting on the bed.

oh boy. here we go again.

"you think i would love you dead, luke?" jack breathed. he's angry now, "you think i would love you dead? luke if i wanted you dead i'd shoot you without blinking, i wouldn't have let you live this long. that's how we do it. but we're family. get those thoughts out of your head and come down to the stationary. we need to fix the mess you started yesterday."

he hung up.

I rub my face looking around the room, and speaking out loud the first thought that rushed through my head, "where the fuck is my gun?"

as calm as i seem, i'm freaking out on the inside. my blood is pumping. i ruined a mission, and got people killed- and i wasn't there to watch it happen.

fuck.

i get dressed in what i was wearing last night. my shirt is more ripped than i remember but it covers me well. i wait for him to speak up, say anything.

but it's as hopeless as waiting for snow in texas.

I knew i shouldn't have went home with him.

I shouldn't have let my lips touch his.

I shouldn't have opened this enormous cage to my past that I know damn well i won't be able to close.

he still looks away when i catch him looking at me.

he still won't tell me he wants me to stay as he watches me pack up to leave.

he still makes my heart ache every step i get away from him

but i'm not the same boy he left anymore.

i scoff at the thought. no, i'm for sure not the same boy anymore.

i looked around for a while before remembering where i placed my weapons the night before.

under the bed, never under the pillow.

the probably was the first thing i learned about weapons, how and where to hide them. hell, i didn't even know how to work a gun but i knew how to hide it without a doubt of it being seen.

now i know e v e r y little trick and twist on how to use a weapon.

but what is a weapon?

a weapon is a thing designed or used for inflicting harm or damage.

the definition you look up online says the words "bodily" and "physical" in it, but means of destruction can vary far more than physical damage.

how do i know that?

when i was 5, a weapon was when my dad said no candy after dinner.

when i was 7, a weapon was being put in time out for bad behaviour.

when i was 10, a weapon was a slap across my face for disobeying.

when i was 12, a weapon was anything he used to hurt me.

when i was 14, a weapon was the power my voice was starting to gain.

when i turned 17, a weapon was anything i could use to defend myself.

weapons aren't only carried by federal agents and higher authorities.

every. single. human. out of the 7 billion something souls wandering earth have their own weapon. some use their voice. some use their education. some use their hands, belts, sticks and stones.

why did i mention voice first?

don't ever underestimate verbal abuse. you don't have evidence to prove it. but i am living proof of how bad of a monster can be created by words inserted into their system repeatedly.

you're worthless. you're pathetic, you're a disgrace, and you cannot do shit.

how do that sound now?

every word i was told. everything carved on the walls of my brain. it fuels the fire inside of me. it creates the man i am today.

the man who can kill you in ways you cannot picture existing. without flinching once. the man who doesn't give two crackhead about the blood running down your body or the scars my hands made.

the man you should fear more than the demon in your closet, or the monster under your bed.

all my thoughts, all my memories, and all my feelings are locked up, put away in neverland. because if i wasn't the man your wife sucks off to save your life. Or the man your girlfriend leaves you for. then i would be as wrecked as i was when he would be be done laying his hands on me.

and i am

n o t.

that helpless boy anymore.

not on the outside, at least.

who i am today is a bigger clandestine, than the answers to the Madeleine McCann case from '07 or the agents and missions given in the MI6. maybe

i'm in too deep that don't know myself.

-

((the Madeleine McCann case is a famously known case about a girl who "disappeared" from her family's vacation apartment in Portugal, 2007 when her parents left her and her two brothers who are at the age of 2 unattended to go have dinner. she still hasn't been found and there are numerous theories about hat had happened to her. 

the MI6 is the British equivalent of the FBI except they don't show the faces or covers of their agents and missions. ))