Origins

Chapter two- And The Son

My sleep was disturbed by bloodcurdling screams. I got to my feet and scanned the dark area outside for the source of the screams. First thing I saw was a van, with the Union Jack upon it. My fists clenched as I walked downstairs and grabbed the carving knife from it's wall racket. The steel reflecting in the moonlight "Hey, You, Yankies!" I shouted, One of the Englishmen turned and walked towards me "Go home, Kid!" He shouted, once he got within arms reach, I put the carving knife through his stomach, Silently and quickly killing him, once I let him fall to the floor silently I looked over the corner to witness two more Englishmen laying into Jamie O'Riley, a friend of my mother's. I quickly grabbed one of them by the collar and threw him into the side of the van, a loud thump seemed to explode from the van, but it could've just been my heart "You alright, J?" I asked softly, helping him to his feet. He brushed dirt off his trousers "Yeah, I'm Grand, Tommo" He said with a false smile "Why did you stand up for me?" He asked, knowing damn well I didn't forget walking in on him threatening my mother "What's in the past is in the past" I said softly. Rubbing my cross softly "But...." He said softly "Shhh" I said sternly and Helped him to his home. He sat on the door step heavily "Will I be okay?" He asked, his voice heavy. He was a few years younger than my mother, but he was still forty-three "How bad did they rough you up?" I asked softly "An-bheag" (A little) He replied in Irish. "Right" I nodded and checked his wounds, his side was beaten brutally, A small gash which could get infected, I quickly ripped off my sleeve and used it as a bandage for his side to cover the blood. Jamie looked up at me, his eyes full of regret as he held out a pistol in his shaky hand "Tá mé go fírinneach brón orainn, fhear óga" (I am truly sorry, young man) He pulled the trigger, but not before I dropped below the barrel and kicked the pistol upwards, it flipped out of his hand and hit the corpse closest to the van. He got to his feet and threw a punch that would've done serious damage to my jaw... ... If it actually connected. I tripped him with a leg sweep, He fell to the floor fast, before I knew it I was straddling him with my knees, laying my fists into his face fast and hard, His breathing began to slow down, until he stopped struggiling, his blood on my fists. That was when I started my long time of killing English soldiers