IyambaGodwin
Thomas let out a soft laugh, startling the man to his wits. If this young boy had been paid for this, he was doing a really good job.
'Pray tell me lad', the man said, trying to seem unfazed.
'Because', Thomas paused, looking into the gloom, '... He can't bear to kill a startling image of himself'.
With graceful dexterity rather surprising for someone his age, Thomas imperceptibly withdrew a dagger from his boot purchases a day ago or so, surging forward, he thrust the blade into the heart of the man. A faint gasp escaped his lips.
In that short instance, the man's form shifted forward, revealing his visage, a pure representation of the boy whose blade was now embedded in his chest.
'You can hide but you can't run, Father'.