The Fragile the Broken and the Brave

17. Poor Boy

8.01.20

"So if Daniel didn't kill himself... Who did? We threw away the knife, so we can't run finger prints. I mean, who would have the motive to do this other than..." Oliver looked directly at me, and I shook my head fiercely.

"I was in the hospital barely able to walk for a week, Oliver. It wasn't me."

"But then who would do it and why?"

"Maybe it was a demon–"

"No, they were under my control. There's very few people in hell that can disobey a direct order from me, and why would anyone want to kill Dan?"

"Maybe they weren't... Maybe they were trying to kill Devon and got the wrong brother."

"You're still prejudiced against us after all these years!"

"I'm just throwing ideas out there! Stop getting so defensive. What demons are there that don't follow your rules?"

"Anyone that shares my blood."

"But I've met your brothers; they wouldn't do anything like that!"

"That's why it couldn't be a demon!"

"Can you both calm down? This isn't our biggest priority."

"And what is, Devon, hm?"

"Jack your son is in the middle of the woods somewhere. You aren't concerned about that at all?"

"He can protect himself; he's done it for most of his life."

"I can't believe you would say that! He's your child, Jack, and he's alive right now. Dan is dead!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! He isn't dead as long as I keep him in my head!"

"And Benjamin actually isn't dead; focus on him, we can handle this."

"We being you and Mr. 'Doesn't acknowledge that it could be one of his kind' over here? Like you two could do anything; you don't care like I do!"

"Well it's stupid that I care more about your son than you do. Get your act together, Jack! You're doing that thing again where you find out one thing is true and you push everyone around you away!"

"I do this because I thought he killed himself, but he didn't. I need my revenge against his killer or I'll never be happy."

"Can't you be happy with us? We all care about you, Jack, more than he did when he was alive. Don't shove away those that you care about for someone who is gone now."

"Fine, I'll do it by myself!" I stormed upstairs before slamming the door to my office loudly, but I felt sadness as soon as I sat down in my chair. What am I going to do?

***

17 years earlier, ??? POV

I slipped through the silent mansion with only one mission from my master; find the one they call Devon Quinn and eliminate him. My master needs a nonradical son, and this is the only way to bring out his "inner anger" as master calls it.

"Dev get the salt!" A voice shouted, and I looked in a door to see a teenage boy glare at his parent. I pulled out my notebook and quickly wrote down his most notable features "black hair, green eyes, teenager," and ran away back to my hiding spot. Tonight is when I attack...

***

It was 9pm, and I was staring down at my target laying back on his bed. He was reading a book, and I waited for it to get to a sad part to make his death believable-ish before jumping down from the ceiling and grabbing his shoulders. I covered his mouth while he kicked and screamed at me, and I took out a knife I had stolen from the kitchen. I took the item and slowly slid it over the skin on his wrist, and he stopped fighting when he knew he wouldn't be getting free. His blood leaked down his arms just like the tears pouring down his cheeks, and I couldn't help but lick his blood. It was sweet, so I knew that his soul would be too.

"W-wh-wh-w-wy-why-y?" he stuttered at me, and I smirked at the weakness of his voice.

"Your soulmate may not continue to be a radical."

"J-Ja-Ja-c-ck-ck?" Ooooh shit this is the wrong brother. Master is going to be so mad at me! Whatever, he's already almost dead, and he saw my face. I can't let him free. I guess I'll just have to abandon master for now; I'm already working for his son. I can't pretend that I'm loyal for much longer. I'm just a royal advisor; my job is to inform King Oliver about things, not work as an assassin for his father who doesn't even control me anymore. When my mind was cleared, I opened up the kid's notebook to take a sample of his handwriting before forging it easily. My work was slightly sloppy, but the likelihood anyone would notice is slim to none.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and I shoved the knife I had used into the kids hand before jumping back up into the vent. My foot caught on the wallpaper, and I left a miniscule smear of blood on the wall that I barely noticed. I was going to fix it, but there was a knock on the door, so I climbed into the vent and sealed it up again. I watched a short, black haired boy kick the door open, and he released a loud sob. I should have left, but I wanted to make sure no one noticed my mistakes on his writing and the incorrect form of the blood pattern. My forgery was closer to my actual target than to his, but I don't have a time machine. I never focused on learning his handwriting like I did his brother's, so it didn't really look too similar.

Two others came in, and they tried to help the tiny one get over the death of his significant other. I don't really know if they're soulmates, but that's what I wrote. As far as he knows, the kid was his soulmate. I could see the haunting in the boys eyes. He probably won't let this go, even as he grows older. I feel terrible for the poor boy, and I wish that I hadn't done this. Usually their eyes don't burn themselves into my mind like his have. I can't explain how his expression made me feel exceptionally sad. I'm a seasoned killer! Why do I feel this way?

I almost revealed myself to him to fix his horribly sad face, but I knew that it wouldn't help at all. It's better for him to think that the boy had killed himself than been killed. As I crawled back through the vents, I felt my chest hurting for the boys sad eyes. Of course, the pain made me less careful, and I jumped out right in front of a man in his mid thirties. He was holding onto a one year old baby, and we had an uncomfortable stare off for a second before I ran away. His ocean blue eyes followed me, and he shrugged it off before walking away. Thank God he didn't give chase or I wouldn't be living right now... Poor boy.