Hello writers. If you are reading this, I have decided to write chapter two of The Knife That Did More Then Murder. I have this story completely planned out now, but since this is going to be a full blown story, it's gonna have to have some fillers. Don't worry, unlike my last story, these fillers won't suck. I swear.

Now, as for warnings on this chapter, I don't think this one is as gruesome as the first one, it has hardly any violence, but this story in all is gonna be pretty bad. This chapter is REALLY short, and I'm sorry for that. Also sorry for not posting it ASAP, I've been busy with my other stories.

The drive to the airport was full of silence. They both had no idea where they were going, but they couldn't say they cared. All Rico knew was he was scared, and wanted his mom back. He had a feeling saying that would get him hurt, so he kept his mouth shut.

His father was on edge as well. He had to get out of here. He wasn't going to prison, no. If he did go to prison, he would kill his way out, guard by guard. Then, he would get his son back, and they would do what they were doing right now. Getting out of America.

"Son, from now on you will call me sir, the real father, or Jax." He said. He pulled into the airport parking lot, and wiped the blood of his hands before getting out.

"Yes sir." Rico got out of the car, and looked around. There were people everywhere. Maybe he could run and tell one of them before his father could hurt him…

"Rico! You are not to tell anyone about what just happened, are we clear?" Jax interrupted the boys thoughts.

"Yes sir." Rico walked into the airport followed by his father.

Not one person in that room would ever think they were walking side by side with a killer.

Rico knew better though. He knew what his father had done. He was sure the images he had seen tonight were never going to go away. They would stay stored in his brain for the rest of his life, almost like an adults graduation pictures. Tucked away and mentioned every once in awhile, always causing tears to flow.

Suddenly, the boy wondered where they were going. He knew they were leaving the country, but where they were going was a mystery to him.

"Uhh…father?"

"Real father." Jax corrected. He dug something out of his pocket and looked at them while muttering.

"Real father, where are we going? If that isn't to much to ask. I mean, I understand if you don't wanna tell me…" Rico stuttered, not so sure how to explain what was on his mind.

It all happened so fast. Too fast. Jax grabbed Rico and dragged him into a small room. There were brooms, mops, and different cleaners littering the closet.

"You will not, will not, be scared of me. Ya hear me?" He dragged his hand harshly over the younger boys face.

Rico couldn't help the tears that came from his eyes. He thought that the hitting was over with the one hit, but he was wrong.

His father slapped the child again, then started harshly whispering again.

"Don't fucking cry! You're weak, Rico. You're so weak, just like that piece of trash that you came from. You may think you're my son, but you're not. Worthless pieces of trash, all of you." With that, the man left the closet.

Rico stood there, to scared to move.