"Mihael!" My mother's shrill voice shrieked from downstairs. Ugh! What does she want now?!
"Yes?" I yelled back impatiently.
"Come here! Right now!" She commanded. Nobody, and I mean nobody talks to me in that type of tone.
"I'm busy!" I retorted. It's not like I was going to get up from my chair just to talk to her. If she really wants to talk to me, then she can get herself up here and talk to me.
"Mihael Keehl! Get down here right now!" Uh-oh! She used my full name. How scary! As if!
"I'm not scared of you!" I shot back.
"Better be!" She appeared in my doorway out of nowhere.
"Wow! How'd you do that?" I asked surprised.
"Have you talked to your Dad lately?" She asked me, dismissing my question.
"No, why? Do I look like the type of son who talks to his father frequently? "I said getting attitude.
"Watch it, kid!" My mum snorted and left my room. Why would I talk to my father? We don't talk to each other unless we need something from each other. So what does my father need from me now? I turned my chair around and picked my phone up from my desk. Wow! 27 Missed calls. All from my father. After a long moment of thinking, I decided to call him back. He responded from the first ring.
"Son?" He asked into the phone. Of course it was me, who else would call him from my phone? What a stupid question. I shook my head when I realized something. Oh god no, please no. He only called me son when he needed serious, urgent help.
"Christian?" I said back. I call my father by his name, Christian. I don't call him father, dad, or daddy. Because I don't feel that way about him.
"Son, I need your help. Urgently!" Of course! What else would he be calling for and calling me son. He didn't even care about me. Like that time I ran away for 3 months and he didn't even notice. But the feeling was mutual. It's not like I longed for him to love me and care about me. You grow up without anybody caring about you, you become heartless and cold. And that's exactly what I am. A cold-hearted monster that is unable to feel emotions. No happiness, no sadness, no guilt; no love nor hate. Nothing. Robotic. Automatic.
"With?" I reduce my syllables when talking to people. I feel like it's a waste of my breath, using many words when talking to anybody, especially my parents. It's not like they care about what I say anyway, so why even bother?
"You have to come here right now!" I didn't even have to ask where he was, I knew he was at our second house.
"Okay. Bye" I said coldly and hung up. I zoomed down the stairs into the kitchen. I grabbed the car keys.
"Why in such a hurry? Where are you going?" My mother asked me when she saw me. Jeez! This woman is only good for interrupting, especially in situations where you have to move quickly.
"Dad" I simply said and she understood and shut up. I swiftly walked out the house, slamming the garage door shut behind me. Once I got in my black Mercedes Benz, I sped away, not caring about the speed limit. I arrived to my destination in exactly 7 minutes. I didn't even have to knock at the door; my father pulled me by my arm inside the house.
"Son, we have to move quickly!" He chucked the M16A4 at me and already headed towards the door. I followed. A little warning before we go on missions like these wouldn't hurt. "Here!" He threw the keys at me hurriedly and pointed at one of the many sports cars located in our garage. We jumped in and once on the road I asked where we were heading. He told me the street name and I continued driving. To my advantage, I knew every single street in this city. I stopped the car when we arrived there shortly. We quickly got out of the car and my father made me face him when he turned me around by my shoulder. He looked at me in the eyes deeply for a few seconds before taking my hand and putting 2 pocket knives in it. Then he nodded and we walked into the building.
"I'll go to the right; you take the left" He ordered and ran out of my sight in a matter of seconds. He was in his 40's, but in much better shape than probably 99% of the world's population. He didn't have much of a choice, considering his job required him to be physically and mentally the strongest he could be. No room for even a drop of weakness.
I kept on walking and walking, trying to follow my father's directions. I walked through the hallways briskly. Every sound resonated so loud in this building creating what seemed like never-ending echoes. Even my quiet footsteps sounded like a herd of elephants.
"Hey kid!" I heard a man's voice yell after me. I turned around and saw the man, accompanied by another one. Both looked like they were in their late 30's. Shit, shit, shit! I can't shoot them. That would create such loud blasts, it would be equal to suicide in here, because all the security man would find me and there would be no way possible to escape. And let's not forget about my father. I might not care about him, but that still doesn't mean I want him killed. My mother would probably cry all the time, because she wouldn't get any more money from him, and then I'd have to listen to her complaints and such. I suck at even pretending to care about people or their problems.
So what was I supposed to do if I couldn't shoot these bastards? I needed an effective way to get rid of them in silence. And just then I remembered the pocket knives my father handed me earlier. Exactly 2. Hm, how funny. Did he know this was going to happen or how did he know to give me exactly 2 pocket knives? Facing the security guards, I needed a way to distract them from noticing that I was about to pull my knives out.
"Hello guys! I finally found you!" I cheered. All I had to do to succeed with the plan was to keep my cool.
"Oh really?" One of them asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am supposed to give you this note from your boss. I pretended to search through my pockets while getting closer to the security men. Once I was standing in front of the two, I held out a finger, to indicate for them to wait a second. I swiftly pulled my two knives out from each side of under my belt.
When the men realized that I held knives in my hands, it was already too late for them. I stuck the blades in each side of their throats. Both pairs of eyes stared at me back in shock, unable to utter a single syllable. They fell to the ground after a few seconds. I stayed there for 2 more minutes, to make sure they really were dead. By the lifeless look in their eyes, I knew it was time to move on. I shook my head. Naïve little boys, is what they were. And it cost them their lives.
I kept walking through these long hallways, hiding occasionally from the security guards that were pacing back and forth through them. I felt like James Bond. Except this wasn't a movie. I only had one shot. And I could not miss. I don't mean literally one shot. Do not worry; I had plenty of ammunition in my M16A4. I mean chance. This was my one and only chance. But to me, this was not a big deal. I grew up like this. I was raised in my father's business. For me, violence was the only Life I did know. There is no such a thing as piece, harmony, and love. Not in my world at least.
After racing through these corridors for nearly an hour, I finally found something interesting. An enormous steel door. Unfortunately, it was locked and needed the correct security code to open it. But this was not going to stop me. This was no problem. I waited for about 15 minutes, hiding in the shadows, when another security guard walked right out of the door. I let him pass me. He still didn't see me, so I sneaked behind him and head-locked him.
"Listen, tell me the code to the door and I won't kill you." I whispered in his ear threateningly.
"Never! Over my dead body!" He shouted. Stubborn, stubborn, I see, I see. This was going to be fun!
"You sure about that?" I chuckled lowly and slid my knife out, applying a bit of pressure into his neck while slicing it.
"99809! It's 99809! Now please, I'm begging you! Stop it!" He started panting hysterically.
"Do not worry. You will not feel any pain any longer after this." I laughed evilly and sliced through his carotid artery in his neck. He immediately became unconscious his breath slowing down and died within a couple minutes, when he stopped breathing all together. I searched for his wallet and found his I.D. Mail Jeevas. Aha! This guy I just killed was the son of the man my father and I are currently after to kill. He was decently young for whom he was involved with. Only 18 years old. Same age as me. But I didn't feel any remorse for killing him. He was involved in this dirty business, he knew exactly that his life was at stake being with the mob. His bad luck for not paying more attention to who could be hiding in the dark.
I typed in the door's security code and it opened. Thank god the guy didn't think of lying to me because I would've done much worse than I did. I could've killed him painfully, but I was nice to him, killing him more peacefully than most of my other victims. Maybe because he indeed was so close to my age, and we had something in common. We didn't choose our lives. Our lives were determined only by our fathers. He was and I still am just a puppet on a string. Our fathers tugging at us, whichever and whatever way they wanted and pleased. And we had to play along. We couldn't step our foot down, and say "No." After all, we were just the pawns in the game, and they were the kings. We both were raised in the same situations, and in a way I could understand where he was coming from. I turned around to look at him one more time, and all of a sudden I felt this huge guilt feeling in my gut, when I set my eyes on his. They were so green, so full of life even if he was dead. His fiery red hair radiating so much energy. Then it hit me! I stole this guy's life. I stole something that definitely did not belong to me, and this time, this time it was too late to return. There was no way to bring him back to life. I did this on a daily basis, but I don't know why it was so much different with this guy. Looking at him made me sick. Physically sick I mean, since I couldn't contain myself anymore, the wave of nausea overcoming me strongly and I threw up right there. I stole from people every day and lost count of how many people I have killed already and I never regurgitated from it. I never felt guilt or remorse about all the illegal things I have done, on the contrary. The bigger the crime, the more powerful I felt. I slowly turned around and walked away.
I heard my father's voice coming from a room. I entered the room and stared at my father and the man that we were supposed to kill. Leslie Lee Jeevas.
"What's going on here?" I asked, giving Leslie the coldest stare I could. I saw him shudder, as if a cold chill went through the room all of a sudden. My father seemed appalled and gave me this look that I've never seen him give me before in my life. Granted, I don't see his face all too often, so yeah…
"Son, I let you have the honor" My father said and I pointed my gun at Leslie.
"Bye" I said the word ruthlessly, still giving him my killer look; and ended Leslie's life, right there, right then with a single shot in the forehead.
"Common, let's get outta here Mihael." So now I'm Mihael, not "son" anymore. Whatever, it's not like it made a difference, whatever he called me.
For some reason, my father took the opposite way out, so I could not have a last look at Mail. And again, just thinking about him made me sick, barely able to keep my food in, but somehow managing to. I think my face became even paler than its usual self, because my father stared at me as if I were a ghost or something, but he didn't say a word to me.
We exited out of the building and went back into the car, my father deciding to drive us back this time. Everything was silent for a few minutes, my father giving me these weird glances from time to time. He kept opening his mouth, as if he was about to say something but ended up closing it dumbly every time. When he opened his mouth one more time and still didn't say anything and gave me another glance I decided I had enough of this game.
"Do you have something to say?" I said impatiently.
"That look Mihael, that look." He said desperately. What the fuck is he talking about?
"What?" I asked confused out of my genius mind.
"The way you looked at Leslie. I can't even look at anybody so cruelly." I turned my head to look into his eyes, and I'm not sure if I was mistaking, but I saw fear in them.
"Your point is…?" I asked and then I remembered I wanted to ask him something else. "And how did you know to give me 2 knives?"
"Easy, security guards tend to always walk in pairs of 2." He explained as if it was the most obvious thing in this world. "And the way you killed him. In such an unemotional manner." He went on and on about me. God, would he ever shut up.
"Your fault." I said calmly. If he never would've raised me the way he did, I probably would be a loving, kind, and caring person. Maybe.
"How is it my fault Mihael?" He asked, a hint of anger rising in his voice a little.
"Never mind" I sighed and shook my head. He was unable to see his mistakes. How blind could someone be.
"No, Mihael! Talk to me!" He ordered me.
"Make me!" I shouted back, opened the car door, and ran out. I didn't want to have a dispute with him about this. It's much too late anyway now. I'm already 18; an adult. I don't have to listen to a word he tells me. It's not like I need him. He needs me. I don't need anybody in this world.