The boy with the broken, dull, slightly glossed over and tear-filled hazel eyes numbly stares down at the smooth, cold marble gravestone that's carefully sticking out of the dirt with obvious care, with the words Breeanna Rose Davenport carefully placed on the top of smooth white and cold surface, with the date she was born and the date she had died. He stares at the 'In Memory Of Breeanna Rose Davenport, loving sister, caring best friend', with even more salty tears welling up in his eyes. The tears burn in the backs of his eyes, so he tries to ignore them and the words reply in his head.

'In Memory Of Breeanna Rose Davenport.'

His sister.

The now sixteen and a half year old boy with light brown hair and hazel eyes holds a single, brightly colored red rose in his left hand tightly, his quickly-numbing right hand shoved into his pocket of his well worn blue jeans. He tries to make sure that one of his hands aren't going to have to be operated on due to the high risk of hypothermia. Actually, he might have it now, but he doesn't care.

He doesn't care about anything anymore.

The boy quickly tries to swallow back the burning white hot lump in his throat, but it fails almost instantly as he stares at the stone in front of him. The lump grows bigger, hotter, more harder to ignore. He then quickly attempts to blink back the warm tears that threaten to overtake him and spill down his face and plop down onto the wet, muddy ground in front of him as well. But that doesn't work. He stares at the gravestone that's rapidly blurring in front of him due to his painfully hot and salty unshed tears and the rain. His feet are soaked and cold, soaked through his socks, numbing his feet, his pants wet and now dark blue from the rain. His hair is pressed down from the coldness of the rain. He usually has his hair spiky, but now it's just sopping wet and flat. Little droplets of rain flow from his light brown hair and trickle down to his face and rolls down onto the ground, so he tries to wipe the little icy cold droplets away.

He sighs and stops trying to dry his face when it doesn't work.

The sky is dark and black and has thick, evil-looking clouds swirling high above him in the cold, frosty sky, with chilled air to accompany him as well. The sky brings down rain that's relentless, and doesn't show signs of stopping anytime soon. Icy cold rain falls down from the sky in cold, frozen sheets, pounding down on the cemetery like a million horses pounding on the ground, on the boy's bright red rose. The icy rain soaks his hair, soaks his clothes and freezes his skin through his now stiff clothes which makes him numb, and the boy lets his tears that he had been trying so hard to conceal with every single ounce of strength he had left in his body flow freely now down his cheeks. There's no one around to see him break down, so he can cry if he wants to. It's not ugly crying, but the broken hearted crying that makes him hurt all over, and it's not just from the rain. He's breaking down, and he is supposed to be the strong Davenport.

Look at him now.

(He was mission leader, and leaders are supposed to be strong. Leaders ARE strong. He WAS strong. But he isn't strong. Not anymore. How can he be? He's a monster now. That's all they see. A monster.)

He knows that he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be standing here in the rain with a single red rose clasped firmly in his hand and probably getting hypothermia from standing here in the frozen rain for so long, but his brothers and the rest of his family insisted that he go see her again. They hate him for what he had done, and he's pretty sure they always will hate him, but they wanted to make sure that he go see her. For the fifteenth time. The literal fifteenth time. No joke.

He killed his sister eleven days ago.

He shakes his head, quickly trying to rid himself of the memory of his sister, his best friend, one of the only people he cares about. No. He won't allow himself to do this, to think back to when he had yelled at his older sister, to think back when he broke her, drove her off the edge of the living and shoved her into the land of the broken and dead. He killed her, and he's a monster. He deserves to rot in this pale cold grave and in a coffin in a hole in the ground, not her. Not his best friend, not his big sister. Maybe if he hadn't done that, hurt her, screamed at her the way he did, maybe she'd still be alive. Maybe he should just kill himself… It's his fault she's dead. He did this. Monster. He's a monster. Monster, monster, monster, monster. He killed one of the only people he cared about-

No.

He won't think of that. He promised himself a long time ago he wouldn't think of what he did to her. It's his fault she's dead, that Adam hates him a lot more now than he did when they had their stupid little typical (and annoying) brother fights. Adam won't talk to him, or anyone, for that matter. His older brother just stares blankly at the wall. He's the reason why Adam has grown bitter and he throws Chase into walls a lot more now than he used to do while Bree was alive and Adam also screams at him that he's a 'heartless, evil killer and all killers- no matter who they are or where they live- deserve to rot in the ground and be kicked in the face and die in the most painful ways possible'. He's the reason why Leo won't even stand in the same room as him, doesn't ask if he wants to play video games with him, doesn't ask for help on his homework or hang out with him anymore. He is the reason why Leo has grown cold and angry and cruel and broken like Adam. He broke his brothers. What he did to her is the reason why Tasha cries at night, doesn't talk. Just goes through the motions of the day without even cracking a smile. And she used to smile all the time.

He never knew how much he would miss Tasha's smile.

Tasha had once tried to get the family back together to the way they were before she had been driven off the edge of sanity, but without Bree, the whole family seemed to fall apart at the same time.

So nobody tries to pick up the shattered pieces anymore.

He's also the reason why Mr. Davenport doesn't get up out of bed or work on an invention, barely eats, doesn't speak a word. Just stares blankly at the wall, like Adam does.

He did that to his family. He didn't just break her, didn't just break Bree, but he also broke Adam, Leo, Tasha, and Mr. Davenport.

He doesn't know where Douglas is. He can only hope that he's okay.

He always thought that his family wouldn't break, but he was so wrong about that. He was arrogant to think that the great and mighty Davenport household wouldn't break, but he was wrong. Her death broke them, left painful, long, deep scars on his family, both mentally, physically, and emotionally.

And it's all his fault.

He hadn't meant to cut that deep, hadn't meant to do what he did and he hadn't meant to say what he said, he was angry at her for a very stupid reason and he screamed at her for messing the mission up. Why did he say that to her? Why he break her? He is a monster and he's responsible for his sister's death and he didn't even get to say he's sorry…

Chase lets out a broken sob and, with shaking fingers and icy cold, numb hands, places the red rose on the top of Bree's headstone before he stares at her grave and the rose he had just placed on the headstone again.

He turns and walks away, dreading when he walks through the door and back to his broken family. The shadows swallow him up, and he gets in his car and drives away with the hot, salty tears running down his face.

LINE BREAK

A girl with long brown hair and brown eyes stares at the red rose that's placed on the top of the gravestone and picks up the rose and holds it close to her chest.

The man who she hates but is allies with, steps next to her, watching the car drive away and get swallowed up in the shadows.

It's silent for twenty seconds before the man speaks up.

"Chase Davenport has been successfully broken."

"I'm not even the slightest bit proud of this, you realize that, right? I hate seeing him in so much pain. Like the rest of them. I can't stand seeing them like this. It's not his fault, either. He blames himself for everything that's happened, and he doesn't know that it's not his fault, which is the sad part of this whole thing." The girl says sadly, sniffing the rose and looking over at the grave and the words with careful eyes.

"It's for the best." The man says, glancing at the gravestone before looking over at her.

She hesitates for a few seconds before speaking again. "But…"

He shakes his head, cutting his ally off. "It's for the best. Trust me when I say that. I know what I'm doing with that. It is for the best."

The girl bites her lip and sighs. "Whatever you say, Krane."

Victor Krane rubs the back of his neck with a black gloved clad hand before extending his hand towards her, and the rain lightens up a little bit as well before it stops all together, and relief runs through her veins. He was the one causing the rain to fall down in large amounts and basically freeze her skin, and she's glad that he stopped the rain. The rain was getting unbearable, and watching Chase break down while they both just stood there only adds to it. She hates watching him, to see how broken he is, but she has no other choice.

"Come on." Krane's voice pulls her out of her thoughts. "We should get going right now, in case he decides to come back, or if something were to happen. Or if anyone sees us. You of all people know how bad that would be if we are discovered by anyone, especially the Davenport's." He says, and she nods, sweeping a lock of brown hair behind her ear and then she places the rose in her pocket before she takes his hand.

Krane nods in approval and tightens his grip on her hand, not bothering to force her to hold on. She had tried that once before, and the results were bad. So now she listens to him without disobeying.

"We have work to do, Bree Davenport."