Flames of the Family

[Golden Emblem]

Prologue

I'll start with a secret: I haven't been telling the truth to my wife.

You might think this would come with me admitting my guilt of cheating on my wife, being a psychopathic murderer, or just spending money on the wrong things. You know, something an awful person would do. Besides thanking you for thinking the worst of me, I'm going to tell you to not get your panties in a bunch. I'd like to think I'm a good husband. I'm faithful, I bring money in, and I care about her, truly and dearly. The only problem is that I can't open up to her about anything from my past. If something pops up, like a question about where my mother is or where we lived, I skillfully avoid it. And by skillfully, I mean "attempt to change the conversation as quickly as possible while keeping a fake smile on my face as to not raise suspicion".

It's been causing a bit of strain in our relationship, though. I always feel guilty around her, and I know she wonders why I won't say too much to her. While it's uncomfortable for me to talk about, I know that eventually, if I don't talk about it, I'll explode. I mean, she's been so honest to me that it feels wrong not to do the same to her.

It's night now. This is usually the time we go to bed, but as she lays down, I sit beside her. I'll apologize for keeping us up later.

"Emiko, I need to tell you something."

She smiles at me. Damn, I could never say no to that sweet smile of hers. However, her voice is confused when she replies to me. "What is it, Daniel?"

"I need to tell you about... uh..."

"Uh...?"

"This might sound stupid, but I need to tell you why I try and avoid talking about my parents and stuff like that. You know, the reason why you don't know where I'm from. Why I avoid answering when you ask about the past."

If I couldn't have said no to the smile she gave me before, this one would have just made me melt, and I mean that in the most poetic sense I possibly could. I'm a mercenary, not a writer, you aren't going to get pretty words from me. But, anyways, I had always thought she would misunderstand, and treat me different if I told her.

I can admit it: I am really fucking stupid.

"Well, what do you want to tell me about it?"

"Everything. And I might as well start at the beginning."

[Griffin]

Oh I want to see so much moar.

[Golden Emblem]

Chapter 1: She Hates Me

A typical morning for me growing up started at five. I got Christmas Day and any days my dad was home off, but those were few and far between. You would think that, maybe when I was five, I got to sleep in and that I'm exaggerating a bit, but that's actually a lot of crap. She'd do the craziest things with me: make me listen to the sounds of battle and war drums, pick out a jian from a gladius and a dirk, and watch her practice her own swordplay. I don't remember a lot from when I was little, but it still causes problems now that I'm older. I remember a few years ago, hearing some guy practicing with a war drum made me snap. I broke the damn thing over his head, and the worst part was I couldn't explain why.

As I got older, the training changed. It wasn't merely learning different things about fighting; it was now doing all the shit she demanded of me. Run outside in the rain or snow? I've done it, for miles at a time. Lift weights and do a bunch of military-style exercises? I've done that, too. Beat up trees and practice dummies with a wooden sword? Of course.

Get beaten, bruised, and cut, just so that I wouldn't "scream like a fucking girl" (my mom's words, not mine)? Yeah, it happened. Mind, talking about it now, I don't really look at what she did as abuse. She hit me even when we weren't training, and yeah, I never felt loved by her. But I was trained to believe that doing this would make me a better person, and a better fighter. I didn't do anything to stop it, so why should I be complaining now?

Besides, she wasn't always evil. Whenever my dad was home, she was really kind. I doubt he even knew about what she was doing to me when he was out working. He was a mercenary, and he made enough money that allowed my mom to stay home. I knew she was faking it for him, and she was careful to stop hitting me with intent to wound closer to when he was coming home. I didn't want to tell him, either, because she had told me, and again I quote her words, "if you tell that bastard father of yours what I did, I'll kill you and make it look like an accident, because I'm not scared of him".

You’re probably thinking, what the hell are they married for? Well, my mom is a good actor, and she was trapped in a small tribe of desert travellers who would only allow members to leave if they were married or dead. Even if she divorced dad now, she’d have to go back. It’s just the rules.

You might also wonder why she trains me so hard. In her tribe, they were raised to believe that your children passed on your legacy to the world. The better warrior he or she was, the better afterlife you would have.

She might not have been afraid of my dad or anyone else for that matter, but I was scared of both of them. I mean, you can probably guess why I was afraid of my mom. My dad, on the other hand... whenever I got the chance to see him, he was really great with me. We trained, of course, because that was part of my family's life, but he was kind for a change. He didn't need to hurt me for me to understand what he was trying to teach. He would even play with me when we were supposed to be training, whispering to me as we walked to never tell mom.

At the same time, he had that sort of calm rage around him. You knew he had perfect control over his temper, but that at the same time, he could easily let loose and hurt you... even kill you.

It was his job, after all. Mercenaries are often called the "shades of police" for a reason. They get hired, mainly by government, to do things under the table. Capture someone here, assassinate another person there, do the things normal people didn't want to dirty their hands with. Mind, not all mercenaries do that. I don't kill anyone myself, but it's a lot less common now, too. You don't get jobs like that anymore.

I only saw his rage once in my life, witnessing the unbelievable destruction that he could cause. He was gone on a job that he had said would last him an exact seven days. He always took the correct amount of time (his secret was that he would give himself a few days longer than he needed in order to relax after work), so she would be able to continue her type of training with me for a few days.

It was the first day, and she had just brought me out into the woods near our house for her special brand of training. Today she had used the scabbard of her sword to hit me all over (only going for areas that could be covered by clothing), but she had managed, while grabbing me by the shirt, to scratch me on the neck with her nails. There were two bloody lines left over, and once she was done, she left me alone sitting by a tree. I was only nine or so, and I hadn't learned not to cry. So, I was sobbing by the tree, not paying attention to the sounds of what was around me. If my mom came back, she would beat me again, but I couldn't care. My body hurt so much that at this point, crying was the only thing that made it feel better.

I didn't realize someone was there until, very quietly, my dad knelt down in front of me. He was always very striking in his mercenary clothing. He wore mostly black, in the form of several pieces of armour and a long jacket that he'd let me use as a blanket. He wore black clothing under that as well (his jobs involve stealth, so black is best), and his rapier was always by his side. Yet, his eyes were such a bright green, they would shine in the light. It almost looked as if he was about to cry.

"Daniel, why are you crying?" he asked, his first reaction being concerned about my welfare. I didn't exactly understand why.

"N-no reason..."

He frowned at this, because I was never the best liar in the world. "Daniel, who did this to you?"

"I did!"

Yeah, in hindsight, this was a really bad lie. I mean, come on now. I was a stupid little kid.

"Daniel, please be honest with me."

"I am, though..."

He had the funniest reactions whenever I lied. He would raise his eyebrow ever so slightly and give me a look which said "Daniel Landen, if you do not tell me the truth I will hang you by your ankles and tickle you until you do". He didn't actually say that, though. Instead, he whispered something to me.

"It was your mother, wasn't it?”

I didn't say anything, and he seemed to know what had taken place. He was very gentle about picking me up, and bringing me to the house. We went in quietly, my mom not saying anything as we entered (she usually didn't pay any attention anyways). Dad put me down and whispered again to me, telling me to go upstairs and stay in my room until he came to get me. I went upstairs, yeah, but I hid at the top of the stairs in order to listen to them. To this day, I still wish that I hadn't done that and had chosen to stay in my room and maybe cry some more.

"Mikal, could you come here?" my dad questioned, eerily calm, standing at the base of the stairs. She walked towards him, her face calm but her dull grey eyes filled with a sort of panic I’ve only seen from something that’s dying.

“Alan, you just left yesterday, why are you back so early?”

“The man I was supposed to kill found out about me from a next door neighbour. I hurried to his house as soon as I realized it, but he had taken all the prescription pills in his medicine cabinet. He died of an overdose very quickly and painfully.”

Just as a note that you may or may not know, mercenaries don’t get paid if their targets kill themselves. It’s an unwritten rule. Basically, your employer says “yeah, thanks for scaring him to death, but kiss our rich asses”. Considering that this job was going to be paying a five figure sum, my mom’s face quickly changed from showing fear to showing rage.

“How did he find out about you? Are you losing your touch?”

“I was accidentally seen. That’s all.”

I didn’t expect what would happen next. With a motion like lightning, my mom, the one who I loved and hated at the same time, slapped my dad, the only one who actually cared for her, hard across the face with the back of her ringed hand. She drew blood, as a few droplets of the stuff dripped down his cheek to the ground.

“You worthless prick, you need to bring a cheque home for once!”

“Mikal, I work almost every day to make sure we have enough money so that you don’t have to get a job,” my dad, the master of arguments, stated to her. “I barely have enough time to see our son. Actually, I need to talk to you about him.”

“Why? He’s not doing anything special.”

“I found him outside with cuts on his neck, and he was crying. Daniel’s a tough boy, and he doesn’t get injuries like that easily.”

“He’s a whiner. I was just teaching him a lesson. He never learns, so I hit him.”

I have never seen my dad touch my mom in any sort of way, so I was stunned to see him pick her up by the shoulders and hold her against the wall. He actually shook her, managing not to injure her, but to frighten her in a way that actually frightened me, too. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him if he would do that when I made a mistake.

“You do not hit my child, you understand me?!” he roared, his face mere inches from hers. “If I see you doing it again, you will not have to worry about either one of us again! I will personally drag you back to where you belong!”

That was something she was deathly afraid of. She didn’t say a thing, but her eyes showed that she was giving in. She merely nodded, but for some reason, that wasn’t good enough for dad.

“I will be dragging you there with all the injuries you gave him, and I will make sure that you suffer,” he hissed, one hand squeezing her neck tightly as a warning. “Now say that you understand me!”

“I... understand...”

He let her go, and went into the living room quite calmly, my mom following as if nothing had actually happened. I was still sitting by the stairs though, and I realized something. She really didn’t love me, like I was always hoping. It took her getting frightened to show some concern. Mind, that was okay.

I just couldn’t help but cry when I realized that my dad had the same violent tendencies she did, and that he could do the exact same thing she did to me. it was just a matter of time.

[killerinstinct]

Well, damn. That's one huge bitch from hell... And the ending's pretty sad.

Definitely want to know what happens next!

[Golden Emblem]

Oct 6, 2010 17:40:11 GMT -5 killerinstinct said:

Well, damn. That's one huge bitch from hell... And the ending's pretty sad.

Definitely want to know what happens next!

But she's not from hell, which is somewhat ironic considering you could debate that point about another character coming up... XD