Daybreak had emerged warm and clear, with humidity that insinuated that the peak of summer had arrived. Morgan sat under one of the many pine trees in the local park to shade himself from the harsh sun. The young boy held a roughed up, leather-covered journal steadily in one hand and a blunt charcoal pencil that must have been less than 3 inches long in the other. He had been attempting to sketch a portrait of his Mother that he could've given her for her upcoming birthday.
The park had been full of noises; birds singing, leaves shaking, the wind blowing. Morgan found it peaceful, it cleared his head from all of the stresses of surviving, all the stresses of being an only Witch in a family of humans. A faint breeze tickled the boy's cheek, causing his sketching to stop, and his hand to quickly lift and itch it. Wasting no time, his pencil quickly fell back to one of the last pages left in his journal.
Morgan's peace had been interrupted as he heard a loud crunch of leaves a couple of meters behind the tree he was sat under. Without hesitation, he quickly lifted himself to his feet and stepped away from the tree, away from the source of the noise he heard. The young male had flipped his pencil around like a knife so that he could use it as a weapon if necessary, but even if it was someone dangerous, the mere half-inch of wood sticking out of his closed hand wasn't going to do much to anyone.
"You know, picking different spots every time you sneak out isn't going to stop me from catching you." A voice muttered as a taller male glided from behind the tree, his pitch was low and his tone lazy as if he wasn't putting much effort into talking or walking by the looks of it. It was Damon, Morgan's Father. The man leant on the tree that Morgan had been previously sat under and raised an eyebrow at his offspring.
Morgan had stared at his father and left his defensive stance. He knew that he was out way past curfew, which was 6 pm for him, even though he was almost 16-years-old. "I don't understand why I have to be in by 6 when Stefan and Lily don't even have a curfew." He said, folding his arms defensively. Morgan now held both his pencil and journal in one hand, under his elbow.
"We have this conversation almost every day. Stefan and Lily are adults" Damon replied which caused Morgan to laugh as if his statement was absurd. Damon bit his lips inward, trying to be patient with his rebellious son, as he knew the 6 pm curfew was a little early but he definitely wasn't going to go against his wife's wishes.
"They're 17," Morgan said briefly, his head tilted with mild annoyance. The young boy turned and walked away from his Father, which only served to annoy him.
"Hey, don't walk away from me," Damon said quickly, his tone had been louder and harsher than usual. "Hey!" He raised his voice, causing Morgan to stop and turn back to him. Damon's eyes squinted as he glared at his misbehaving offspring. Tension-filled silence had mixed with the humid summers air as Damon and his son started to stare each-other down, and to no surprise, Damon came out the victor.
"I'm not coming." Morgan had shaken his head, and slowly begun to step backwards and away from his Dad. "The sun hasn't even set yet." He continued, his face had been showing many emotions; annoyance, disobedience, persuasion and sensitivity, obviously he didn't find his curfew fair.
"Yes, you are." Damon nodded and began to walk towards his son at a quicker pace. He didn't seem like he was going to give Morgan a choice, which only caused Morgan to panic and sob. "I don't want to go home yet." He said, his eyes pleaded at the older male.
"You can draw at home," Damon said as he grabbed his son's wrist and practically dragged him. Damon pulled Morgan towards the car, even as Morgan had been attempting to fight his father's grip. "Get off me!" Morgan shouted at his father; every once in a while, he had attempted to stop moving, which only stunted Damon's movement for a second before his son lost his balance and fell into him.
"Let go of me!" Morgan screamed. The air around him had filled with tension as it started to gust. Morgan didn't know what he was doing but Damon was sure that he was causing the wind to blow. The older male looked around as the wind had started to get stronger, causing the trees around him to bend and some leaves to fall. His gaze turned to his son, and for a second, fear-filled Damon's eyes.
Instead of letting go of his son, his grip became even tighter. "Stop it, Morgan!" Damon shouted to his son whose eyes were filled with anger-inspired concentration. The older male had taken a defensive stance against the wind so that he didn't fall over. "Morgan!" Damon shouted. "Morgan!" He repeated but this time his tone was different, this time he showed fear.
As the gusts of wind started to become visible The branches in the trees had already started to snap loudly and were being swept away by the winds. The fact that Damon was still standing while holding onto his son was nothing short of a miracle.
"Morgan!" Damon had shouted one last time and slowly turned his head to see if the boy had responded. Damon waited for 5 seconds, in that time 3 gusts of wind almost threw him off his feet, before the older male reached quickly into his pocket, pulled out one of three modified EpiPens and stabbed it into Morgans' neck.