The Pariah

"These violent delights have violent ends." --Shakespeare

Tonight was the last night he would ever see them alive. He knew that, did he care? He wasn't sure. To one he had been cruel, but he was doing it because he knew what was to come. The other he had been nothing but a figure, a shadow. He didn't really care about the small one, the bigger one was who he cared about. The big one had fight in him, and he was the one that was going to make a great warrior one day. He was the protector of the small one, he was doing the big one a favor by being the way he was with him.

He grabbed his pile of money that was left out on the small, wooden table. He hadn't worked in a year or so. He earned all of his money through gambling and making deals with those around him. He knew it was going to bite him in the ass one day, he just didn't bank on it being so soon. He was hoping the boy would be a little more grown before it did. But, no matter, the boy would manage. He was hard working, annoyingly so, and he had his father's eyes. He would be fine.

Now, the smaller one? He was not so sure about her, she was sharp, there was no doubt in his mind. But she was emotionally weak. She would run to the boy for everything, and she was lucky he was so focused on the boy that he didn't care about her tears. Otherwise, he would have forcefully removed them from her face. He had to wonder though, who she would be in the future. A sensitive child or a genius ready to take over the world? Would her sharpness be enough to make it in this world? That was another matter for another day.

He stuffed the money in his pockets as he glanced to the boy who was cowering on the floor near the table. He didn't know why he had such a hate for him, maybe because he reminded him of himself as a child. Or that he had the same kindness as his mother. It irked him to no end that the boy existed, all he wanted to do was make him bleed. He could stave off those desires when he was sober, but when he was drunk it was a completely different ball game. Honestly, he probably would have killed the boy by now if the girl wouldn't squeal. But she would, no matter what he did to her.

He didn't know he would be leaving this place forever tonight, otherwise he would have done a better job of storing his belongings. The boy and girl both received their mother's curiosity, which is how he met their mother in the first place. She had been a wonderful woman, smart and kind and what she saw in him he still did not know. She was dead now, so not like it mattered. He blamed the boy, even though it couldn't be his fault, everything was his fault. His life was good until the boy came along. The attention the boy's mother gave him all but disappeared when he came along. The boy became the main object of her affection and then she became pregnant again. It was as if he had been forgotten.

He pulled on his coat with a scowl, hopefully he would never see the boy again. Although, fate had a funny way of kicking his ass. He snorted, he bet the boy shared that with him. Besides his eyes, there was nothing in him that he saw as himself. He was just a disappointment, he was weak and stupid, and he hoped that he would die in a hole.

He smiled bitterly, it must be a sin to wish your own kin dead, but he had been a sinner since the day he was born. That's why he was getting out of this place and leaving a bloody trail behind him. He was not a good person, but then again, he had never claimed to be. The boy was good and that was what was going to be his demise. He was just sad he was not going to be around to see the boy realize how truly screwed he was. After all, the boy was his son whether he liked it or not.