This is a story that won't officially be starting until sometime in 2019. Do not worry! Though this is going to be a multi-chapter, Flame's Desire will still be updated! And sometime VERY soon! Please enjoy the introduction!
A Beginning In Parts
As a child, his biggest frustration was being unable to hurt people. Agitated, angry, upset: the emotion he felt didn't matter. Any attempt to strike back, to release energy, show distaste or make someone feel as hurt as he did, ended in the weakest of strikes. As if time would slow down in the process of swinging his arm out. What would start as quick, high pressure. Would end in a tap. Light. Quick.
Painless.
He wasn't old enough to know that a violent reaction was wrong. That hurting others to avenge your own hurt was not the correct path. All he understood was the blank stare of his assailant before their lips would curve upward, a mocking smirk at this failed attempt. Harmful words would follow. Spew forth like a broken spigot. Spattering into his fragile, young ego.
Weak. Pathetic. 'Was that supposed to hurt or tickle?' Frustrated tears would fill his eyes. The harmful words would continue like tiny knives.
Why? Why couldn't he hit back? What slowed his hand? What kept him from full force? As he aged, the barrier between his fist and contact slowly deteriorated. The fraction of time that would slow his hand disappeared. The cracking of jaws became a sound he was used to. A scream of pain, a cold glare at the one who threw their barbed words against his heart. He finally succeeded.
But it made him feel worse. Each broken jaw. Each cry of pain. Each busted knuckle. Adrenaline rushed through him, satisfaction flooded every limb for an eternity of seconds. But when alone, staring at bruised hands, sickness replaced it. Too little too late. He now understood why he held back as a child. Why his subconscious never let his hand connect. He was strong. He was human. So were they.
They were both human. And no matter the pain- he never wanted to truly hurt anyone. Not then.
Not now.
Staring hollowly through bespectacled eyes, the man who used to be a boy felt the weight of his entire life pressing against his back from an old, leather seat. Dark green hues fell upon the room, looking but not seeing and the tic-toc of a grandfather clock rang in his ears like the loudest of bells. Time passed in an eternity- slow, dreadful- and his thoughts danced in circles, never truly seeing the room around him.
His hands, once bruised, now covered in scars, old calluses and secret gashes, clenched tightly in the leather of his chair and a deep sigh escaped him.
It was a sigh that spoke of many things: pain, loss, defeat and of a brittle hope that had finally snapped. Once a boy tempered through harsh words and brutal work- now just a man with broken pieces of a dying faith.
Here sat a man who had failed.
Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl. Neither knew the others name or face, but they shared a common secret. The illusion of choice.
"Make sure to NOT say a thing to your case worker unless it's to tell them what such great parents we are: understand?" A boy and his brother, dressed in the nicest of clothes they had ever had, nodded- eyes wide with a strange combination of uncertainty and challenge. Both their bodies were sore- from play fighting they were told to explain. They really did like to wrestle a bit too much at times.
The two women the world believed to be their 'mothers' smiled, revealing all teeth in a manner that did not reach their eyes while they straightened out their jackets. "Yes, perfect. You're sons of the Syndicate now, you have to look like it."
Though the eldest nodded, he had to grasp the hand of his smaller brother to make him follow. This seemed to satisfy the women before them as they turned to lead them through the doors to a salvation they could never seek.
Their new home was fine. They would tell their Social Worker. Their life was never better, they would lie through their teeth. The man with kind, concerned eyes while holding a clipboard would be none the wiser about the gun residue on either of their fingers.
You can tell them the truth. - but would anyone really believe you?
While she, dressed in the pinkest of white lace and pink silk- would be sat at a table with her Mother and Father, smiling happily as the warmest meal was set before her. Today she had been told her Grades were the highest of her class. An honor for such a prestigious school and for their family. The girl didn't fully understand the words, but she could sense the pride in her father's smile. And that was enough.
"You definitely have the right mindset!" He spoke, excitedly while holding the hand of her mother, who looked paler than usual that day. "My little girl will know the business inside and out before she's old enough to marry at this rate. Absolutely perfect!"
"Dear- don't forget she needs time to be a child, as well-" The conversation moved to slight mutters and the girl, feeling as happy as can be, didn't catch the rest of it. Instead, she ate cut pieces of moist steak and kicked her legs happily under the table.
Father was proud of her. What more could she want?
"Just imagine her later, the vision of poise and knowledge, on the arm of my successor, running our firm and keeping our holdings secure. It's perfect- wouldn't you say so, my darling child?" Something in the way his voice change made her stop eating, eyes sliding to stare at the man who was her father.
His lips were curved. He was happy right?
"Of course!" She replied.
Though she never truly realized what she had agreed to.
You think you'll be anything more than just the treasure on another man's arm?
Two separate lives. Two separate stories. The convergence of failure is a thread that sews them both upon a fabric of life, weaving and binding from one frayed end to the next. While she heard the cracking of a riding crop during riding lessons, he heard the shots of a rifle echoing from his brother's hands.
When she was introduced to her first 'play date' - he was introduced to his first burning building. Their lives, locked in a building story they could not escape or truly understand until one decision caused their tiny worlds to shatter into a larger universe beyond. - but what lay out further than their eyes could see?
A sad, empty man- whose scarred fists remembered everything.
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