Nobody is Born Evil

I. The Beginning Of

The city was alight with activity, the pedestrians all busy with their own individual appointments.

It was early noon, the sun just beginning to close in on the horizon, the sky starting to fill with beautiful colors.
There happened to be a light sprinkle: enough to get you wet, but not enough to water the garden.

Damian Truce grumbled under his breath at the extra chore that most likely he'd have to do when he got home.

He was fourteen years old, just starting to figure out his career paths and choices.

Damian ran through the drizzling rain back to his house, where his grandparents lived.

He dashed through people holding umbrellas, eager to investigate more on his recent findings.

The door to the house was wooden and it looked as if it was about to fall off the hinges. Disregarding this, he slammed open the door, falling off the hinges and landing on the ground with a loud thump.

"OY, DAY! DID'JA BREAK THA DOOR AHGAIN?!" His grandma, Joy, screeched.

"I'm sorry, I'll fix it later, gotta go!" Day screamed back, running into his room and closing the door behind him. He quickly dropped his school bag onto the floor and started to work.

"Honey, was that the postman?" Grandpa Reygan asked. He didn't have the best hearing.

Joy walked straight into Damian's room, unfazed.
"Day, would you be a dear and fix the door?"
Normally this would be a perfectly normal sentence, but the tone that she said it in was mildly threatening.

"Grandma..." He complained, rolling off the chair he was sitting in.

"And don't forget to water the plants, the rain ain't doing it for ya." She said, walking off.

Damian was smart enough not to follow after her to continue their "argument", but that didn't stop him from being irritated by it.

Well, I guess it was my fault. He thought to himself. But still, did she have to interrupt right at this moment?

Day went to the door and picked up a hammer that laid on the ground. He took out the remaining nails in the doorpost, and nailed it a little higher than it was before. Taking a bottle of paint that resembled a tube of toothpaste, he hastily squeezed it into the holes that were left by the nails.

"I SURE DA 'OPE YA AIN'T BEAN LAZY!" His mind yelled in a thick accent.

She'll never know the difference, Day reasoned. Besides, this is much more important.

Going outside, he looked for the bucket to use for the flowers. It wasn't in the place he left it at, so he came to the conclusion that Reygan had watered the plants on his own. If that was true, then Damian wouldn't have needed to go outside at all.
Sometimes he felt as if his grandpa was only pretending to be partially deaf.

After around seven minutes of searching, he finally spotted the bucket. It was halfway into the ground, most of it caked with mud.

He bent over to pick up the rusty old bucket, but it was stuck.
Day shook his head and tried again. His hands started to hurt from the strain, so he reluctantly got down onto his knees and pulled some of it up.

Right as he did that, the rain, which was a slight drizzle, became a full blown storm.
It was coming down pretty hard.

I know people say that when it rains, it pours, but this is totally out there!

The good news was that it was easier to pull up the watering can. The bad news is that Damian was now soaking wet.
He thought of unique profanities, but never actually said any of them. He trudged back inside, kicking off his muddy shoes at the patio.

This is fine.
I only need to take a shower, change clothes, clean the entire house, and probably even dust off the pictures of my parents.

The pictures practically covered the walls, along with the knickknacks piled on top of the shelves. His parents would be flattered, that is, if they were here to see it.