I know, I know. Supposed to be working on my other fic. But this just suddenly… came up? Uh, just read and review if you like. It's a tad dark and twisted though. Not sure if it'll be liked…
You've had enough of this.
All the lies and deception surrounding you.
Well, what can I say? Unlike most mothers, I had no choice.
I can remember it now. The memory's as fresh and clear like it was dipped in the Arctic ice-blue sea.
They knocked me up and threw away the key. Hahaha. Such a clever play on words. Such a pity that the only person present to hear it is you.
You.
What are you?
Who are you?
It's no use covering your ears and closing your eyes now, dear. As an adversary of mine once said, resistance is futile. I wonder if he'll live to see the day…
What are you?
Who are you?
You've wandered through twenty-one years of your life wanting to know. Yet here you are. Trembling like a poor little puppy dog.
Fortunately for you, you're no runt. Because do you know what we used to do with useless, ickle runts in Ireland back then?
Put the lot in a sack and drown them.
Are you afraid of drowning? Such a slow, painful death, don't you think? I myself prefer it quick and easy. A bullet through the brain usually does the trick.
Are you cold? You're shivering.
Come here, boy.
You won't? Why not?
Are you afraid of 'Mummy'? I'll just have to come to you then.
There, let me take a good look at you. Stop squirming now.
My, my, you're a fine strapping lad. Your grandfather would have been proud had he been alive. You would've liked him. Had a nice collection of big guns that little boys loved to play with. Absolutely relished the feel of cold steel in his hands, he did.
Would you like to feel it?
A gun to your head?
Frigid, isn't it?
How alike we look to an extent. The same blond hair, the same blue eyes…
You winced.
Are you not happy about that? That you're a part of me? My own flesh and blood?
You can run, hide, and deny the truth but it'll always remain like a stain on your shirt. Red on white. A blood-stained legacy.
Try as you might, you can't disguise the simple fact that the blood running through your veins is mine. The blood of a fighter, the genetics of a killer.
Killer.
Like that word?
Killer, killer, killer.
Blood is thicker than sweat, sweetheart. Here, let me show you…
Ahh,..
It hurt, didn't it? Don't worry, you'll live.
I couldn't kill you even if I tried. How's that for motherly love?
And now you'll have a matching scar to show all your silly little friends. Don't the ladies love a man with battle-scars?
See the blood on the knife?
It's yours…
…but it's mine.
Dear me, it seems that you've had enough. I can sense it.
All mothers can sense what their children are feeling, can they? Hehe, of course I can.
I'll let you go now. You look like you're about to faint.
Goodnight, Steven. Sleep well.
My poor little boy…
