Wrath Of God

Chapter 5: 'Death, death... life'

I don’t know how long I cried for. After a while, I sat in silence staring into space, my mind a battlefield. I was a wreck of mixed emotions. I heard voices in the background but I did not care, I was lost in my own thoughts. The voices started growing louder and were accompanied by footsteps. My subconscious was hearing everything but I was drowning in pain and depression. I missed mother, I really did, and I wanted to love, for some strange unearthly reason I wanted to be loved. I wanted someone to tell me that it was all going to be okay. This was fathers fault, because of him I cannot love and because of him mother is gone. I felt the anger swell up again, but as my hands curled into fists a voice brought me back to reality.

“Well, what do we have here?” a heavy voice ladened with tobacco said behind me.

The second voice was that of a heavyset thug with little brains, “Looks like we got ourselves a runaway here, mommy been giving you a hard time precious?” the raucous laughter filled my ears and fuelled my rage.

Anger was burning in my chest as I slowly looked up at my tormentors who were trying their hardest to belittle me. The heavyset man saw me looking up and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, “Getting a little brave now, are we precious?”

More laughter, I stared viciously in the man’s eyes and was rewarded with a slap that sent me reeling on the floor. I could taste the blood in my mouth. The tobacco chewing man bent over me, took me by the shoulders and pulled me up.

“We gonna give you such a beating that your parents will send us thank you cards, you pathetic little worm.” More laughter. He then grabbed my shoulders, jerked me forward and kneed me in the stomach. I doubled on the floor, clutching my waist trying to breathe. The gasps came out between coughs of blood. Tobacco man kicked my ribs and big man picked me up.

He lifted my head up and said, “Come on mommys boy, hit me!” more laughter.

I was my mother’s boy. My fist swung out braking big man’s nose.

Shock and anger flashed across his face. My mind and heart started racing.

I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Life started speeding up. Fists were flying, I was dodging and weaving and punching. I saw an iron rod on the ground, grabbed it, and smashed it against tobacco man’s head. Big man came at me screaming.

I swung the rod with all the strength I had left. I fell to my knees and dropped the rod.

As I looked at the bloody mess around me, I realized I had killed another two men.

The iron rod I had swung had connected with such force that it had split open the skulls of the two men.

I was nineteen and I had killed three men. I felt dizzy and my head was swirling with colours and distorted images. I felt a gun against my temple.

“Get up.”

The voice was cold and precise but I had no strength left in me to do his bidding.

I slumped to the floor, unconscious. I embraced the darkness.

“Have some water,” said a voice, a calm voice filled with authority.

My eyes flickered open and I looked up. My head felt heavy. I was sitting at a dining table, before me was a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. On the far side of the table sat a man, the one who had spoken. He was clean-shaven with short hair. He wore an expensive suit and a silver watch. He was neat, tidy and in control. He looked determined and full of purpose, his very presence commanded respect. He was a man of power, this was obvious. I picked up the glass of water and took a sip, never taking my eyes of the man on the side of the table. He stood up, picked up his glass and walked around the table. He took a sip of his drink and started talking, “Kyle Palmer… nineteen years of age, working at Luigi’s... before that an orphan at The Caring Cross orphanage… and you ended up there because your father killed your mother when you were six… interesting.” He took another sip and looked at me. I stared defiantly at him, unable to speak.

He shrugged and carried on talking, “Then you became a hero, shot a thief with his own gun. He died, didn’t he? I wonder how that made you feel, killing your first person. Hmm… then you somehow ended up in my warehouse and you killed two of my men, quite the killer aren’t you?”

He smiled at me, put down his glass and walked out the room.

I sat there, my mind racing. Who was this man? How did he know about me?

Before I could ask any questions I felt something jab me in the arm and then darkness claimed me.

My eyes struggled to open; my head was spinning. I was dizzy and disorientated.

My whole body felt like jelly. I could feel my head swaying from side to side.

A soft calm voice spoke into my ear; the voice sounded like an angel.

It captivated me. I felt like a child. The voice softly said to me, “Kyle, do you know who you are? What you were born to do? We know… I know… I can help you, Kyle. I am here to show you your destiny. You were born to save lives, to be a guardian angel. There are bad people in the world, Kyle, like your father, they are killing the innocent, like your mother.

Do you want that to happen, Kyle? Don’t you want to be a guarding angel? We will show you the way…”

I believed the voice. They must pay. Save the innocent. Mommy, this one is for you…