Agh, okay...so this is a really long chapter, but I don't want to split it into two because I need these events to take place before I continue with the present chapters. So...be prepared for a long read. Lots happens, and Part II is going to cover a bit more of it too. I'm super excited about your reactions to the ending of the chapter!
Songs I listened to while writing:
Dark by Breaking Benjamin
Blood by Breaking Benjamin
Citizen of the Planet by Alanis Morissette
When Forces Collide by Colossal Trailer Music
Fracture by Colossal Trailer Music
Waking Up by M83 (Oblivion Soundtrack)
Dawn by Breaking Benjamin
1988
Montana, U.S.
Lance was sitting on his front porch having a drink when his neighbor, Kenny Bole, pulled up. Rita was asleep, and Lance was trying his best not to cry from everything. He'd found Carol's journals and read them all. If he'd had any doubts or bad feelings about sending Simon away (and he'd had lots), he didn't anymore.
"Howdy, neighbor," Kenny said, climbing up the steps and coming to sit beside him. "Whatcha drinking?"
"Whiskey."
"Pour me a glass if you're sharing."
Lance obliged and handed him the glass. Kenny's blonde hair curled slightly under his black cowboy hat and was damp with sweat. His blue-green eyes were usually squinted more often than not, but for now they were etched with worry. He was about 36 years old and ran a cattle ranch next door. Lance would sometimes help him out if needed.
"I've been meaning to come here to talk for a while but figured you'd want to be left alone."
"You were right."
"Well, I'm here now, so what the hell happened, man?" Kenny asked, looking at him now.
"Simon shot Carol," Lance answered.
"What?!"
"Yea," Lance sighed, running a hand over his head. "I can't prove it, but I'm convinced."
"How so?"
"These," Lance answered, giving the box of journals a slight kick. "Carol's journals. She's been monitoring him since he was about one and a half years old. The rages started when he was around two. She's tried so many things to help him, but nothing worked. Did you know he was suspected of setting the neighbor's cat on fire when he was four? Then there were these mysterious incidents where different kids would end up hurt whenever he was around them, but she'd always managed to talk her way out of it with the parents. She wrote that she knew Simon was doing it, though. She wrote that he told her he hated her almost every day. This was happening under my nose, Kenny. I had no idea."
"Holy shit," Kenny said, wincing.
"He used to beat on Carol when he was younger, probably because he watched his daddy do it. When he stopped, she thought he'd grown out of it, but he was just doing it to others instead."
"So where is he now?"
"I was in survival mode after Carol was killed, and I wanted to keep Rita safe, so I sent him away. I suddenly didn't see him as a kid who'd just lost his mother. I saw him as a threat that needed to go, but I know he would have left on his own anyway. I've always known there was something wrong with him, and he always had an attitude towards me and Rita. He always made it very clear that I was not his father and avoided me at all costs, no matter what I tried with him to get us to bond. The only thing he took a shine to was target practice, and that should have been my red flag right there. That's not all, though, Kenny," Lance said, sighing again.
"What?"
"I can't believe she didn't tell me, but Simon was in trouble for bullying at school. The last thing they told her about was him sexually assaulting a girl in the bathroom. That was the day before Carol got killed. The school called to tell me that not long after she died along with their condolences. I would like to think she was going to tell me. I hate that she didn't tell me he did and said these terrible things to her. I could have helped or tried to."
"Oh man," Kenny said, looking alarmed. "He knew he was in shit then? From the assault?"
"Oh yea. I think...I think he might have hurt Rita, but she won't tell me," Lance continued, pressing his fingers together tightly. "Lucy suggested I send her to therapy, and I have, but I don't know if it's helping. Kenny, she used to have these bruises and shit on her, and I'd ask her if someone was hurting her, and she'd say no, and I suspected Simon but had no proof so couldn't figure it out, but now I'm thinking that Simon has been hurting her all this time. How could he not? He seems to have to hurt someone." He was grateful for Lucy Fields's advice. She always had Rita's best interests at heart.
"Shit."
"I called where he was staying two days after he left here cos I felt bad and was going to tell him to come home and we'd figure shit out for Carol's sake, and they told me he was gone. He up and left."
"He's getting out of dodge before they find him and give him hell for the assault?"
"I also think because he killed Carol and thinks the police will figure that out and come for him," Lance concluded, taking another sip of his drink. "He's 13 almost 14. They might find him old enough to know what he was doing and try him as an adult. I don't know. I don't know how it all works."
"Damn," Kenny said with a low whistle. "I think I'd have sent him packing too."
"He's still a kid, and I feel sorry for him, but he's going down a path I don't think anyone can bring him back from," Lance said somberly. "He doesn't want to come back from it, based on his responses and actions. Carol tried. I mean, there are times she's written about where he's been sweet or loving or told her he loved her, but they're very rare."
"Are the cops looking for him at all? For the assault?"
"Yea. They came here to talk about it, and I told them I couldn't find him. They might find him or they might not. The girl's parents are furious, and I don't blame them. I'm furious too."
"Did you tell the cops you suspect he shot his mother?"
"No. They ruled it an accident, but I don't know how well they really looked into it. Like I said, I don't have solid proof, but the look in his eyes when I saw him standing there over her...it was like, gloating," Lance said, pausing. "I don't know how else to explain it. It was like he was telling her 'Ha, ha, I got the last laugh' or something."
"Think he'll come back?"
"I told him not to. He won't forget that. I'll probably have a target on my back now because of it," Lance said, leaning back in his chair.
"You worried?"
"No," Lance answered. "I'm not." Kenny gave a chuckle and finished his drink. Lance listened to the night air and tried to slow his thoughts down. Wherever Simon was, he had a feeling the boy's anger would take over and create a monster. Let him come after Lance, he didn't care.
So long as Rita was left alone.
1989
Montana, U.S.
Rita stopped talking to Tammy almost a year later. She felt better, and Lance noticed she was doing better, so they decided to end the sessions and go back if needed later. Tammy had a way of getting her to talk about things by doing drawings and then asking questions about it. It's how she'd found out that Simon tried to drown her and had broken her trust with his other actions. Rita trusted that Tammy wasn't telling her father these things, but she didn't know for sure. What she did know was that Tammy helped her to know that she could trust people again by watching their actions, trusting her own gut feelings about someone, and paying attention to "red flags." Rita identified she could trust her father, Tammy, Mr. Bole, Mrs. Fields, and her animal friends, but that was it for now. Tammy had told her that Rita would eventually be able to trust others when the time was right and she knew that she could. Rita left counselling feeling like she had some control back in her life, and she felt good. Sometimes she still felt jumpy and scared, but it wasn't as bad as before. It would take time to fully heal, and Rita knew that.
She rode Willow daily. It was the first thing she did when she got home from school. Tammy had encouraged it as a way of coping and self-care. At nine, she was all arms legs, knees, and elbows, tripping over everything and bumping into stuff. Apparently she was growing.
"Hooooold it," Lance said, catching her by the shirt collar as she skidded past him. "You need to do your homework."
"Aww, but I want to play with the goats," Rita whined.
"Work first then play," he instructed. She pouted as she sat at the kitchen table, picking up her pencil and pulling her text book towards her. Lance went about making dinner and helping her with answers as needed. When he finally set a plate down in front of her, he was tired and she was cranky from the schoolwork.
"Can I go outside after dinner?" she asked.
"You have thirty minutes," Lance answered. She fist pumped and shoveled her food in quickly. He let her off dish duty that night because he could use the time alone to think. He still hadn't heard anything about Simon. The police had stopped searching. He figured that kid was in hiding somewhere. He still had a thought that Simon would return for revenge, but he kept it to himself. He didn't want Rita to be worried. He wasn't.
He looked out the window at Rita running around and laughing with the goats. He felt bad for her that her friends were a bunch of farm animals. He resolved to help find her a good friend soon. He had hoped at school she would have made some friends, but she always told him she spent her time alone at recess. He didn't know why. He'd hoped therapy would have helped her with it, but Rita didn't seem to worry about needing friends. He figured she had to be a little bit lonely, though. He knew he was.
He felt anger towards Simon again. Tammy had shared a little about what Rita told her but not details. It was more to make sure the abuse wasn't still happening as she would have to report it. He'd promised her that Simon was long gone. He'd suspected some things that boy had done to his daughter, especially after the whole sexual assault incident at his school and reading Carol's journals, but having them confirmed was a sucker punch to the chest. He'd failed to keep her safe, and he'd never forgive himself for that. Tammy had promised that Rita was doing a lot better and would be okay but that she might need to talk to someone again in her teens if things came up again. Lance hated that this would be something Rita would probably carry with her forever. Tammy indicated that Rita was very good at managing it and coping with it, so she figured Rita would do alright.
"Rita!" he called after 45 minutes. "Time for bed!"
She growled and whined but came inside. While she got ready for bed, he put the animals away. He didn't know why he kept them all aside from the fact they helped Rita. If he was honest, they helped him a little too. It kept the focus off of different thoughts he had.
"You all tucked in?" he asked when he was back inside and standing at Rita's door.
"Yea."
"Fifteen minutes of reading, and then light's out," he said.
"Okay."
He went in to kiss her forehead softly. "Goodnight. I love you."
"Night. Love you too."
He closed her door partway as he walked out. Then he went to his study and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
All he needed was Rita. He knew one day she'd be grown up and gone, but for now, she kept him going. She kept him smiling. It was the two of them against the world.
Nothing was ever going to change that.
London, U.K.
Luke felt suspicious of the brown haired, brown eyed man sitting at their kitchen table. Jess was laughing and touching the man's arm a lot. Johnny was brooding in the corner, watching.
"Luke," Jess said, spying him now. "Come meet your uncle Brendan."
Uncle? Luke was curious. No one had told him he had an uncle, and he was 12 years old! He walked cautiously towards the man.
"Nice to meet you, Luke," Brendan said, smiling at him. "Last time I saw you, you were a babe."
Luke looked at him, noticing the scar on his left cheek under his eye. There was a scar on the left side of his neck too.
"Uncle Brendan is SAS," Jess explained, and Luke nodded in understanding. He knew about them.
"He looks just like his grandpa, eh?" Brendan said to Jess, and she nodded.
"He does. It's too bad he's not around to meet him."
"Excuse me," Johnny said, standing up now. "I'm going out."
"Fine," Jess said dismissively, waving her hand at him. Johnny slammed the door hard behind him when he went out.
"What are you up to these days, son?" Brendan asked Luke, who looked at Jess. It was hard to answer this question at times because he didn't always know if he was supposed to tell the true answer or the fake answer. Jess gave a slight shake of her head, and he knew which one he was supposed to go with.
"Schoolwork and playing with friends," he answered. It was half of a lie. He did do schoolwork, but he had no friends.
"Like a busy boy should be," Brendan said, nodding. "Good lad." After a while, the two of them forgot Luke was there, and he listened to Jess and her brother share memories of their childhood with each other. It was fascinating to him. He'd never pictured his mother as a child before, but it made sense. Everyone was a child once.
Brendan stayed for a few days. When he left, Luke's mother was sad. He found her crying one afternoon and felt bad.
"It's just hard to see him leave," she told him when he asked, wiping at her eyes. "I don't see him very often."
"Oh."
Johnny's sour mood lifted once Brendan was gone, but it wasn't long after when he started being rough again. Luke put his music on and tuned them out as best as he could. They always sorted their issues out after a while, and he didn't want to get smacked for trying to intervene when a lot of the times they were fine after thirty minutes. He was very used to the rhythm of his household after all this time, but sometimes, it did get exhausting.
...
A night later, Luke was awoken with a hand pressed over his mouth. He struggled, and the hand pressed harder.
"Shhh," a male voice said. "It's me."
Uncle Brendan. Luke felt confused. Why was he back?
"Come on, lad," he said. "Let's go. You gonna scream?"
Luke shook his head, and his uncle let him go. He had no idea what was happening. Had something bad happened to his parents? Why was his uncle packing stuff into a backpack for him?
"What are you doing?" Luke asked, whispering.
"Getting you out of here," Brendan answered. "Come on." Luke stood still. Was his uncle kidnapping him? He didn't understand.
"My parents," he started.
"Are doing a real shit job of raising you," Brendan finished for him. "You're a kid for God's sake. You should be a damn kid, not running around being a child hitman."
So he knew. Luke wondered how he'd figured it out, but he didn't care. He wasn't leaving his mother. He opened his mouth to scream, but his uncle was on him in an instant, wrapping duct tape around his mouth.
"Sorry, lad," he said. "It's for your own good." Luke struggled. He was mad that, once again, he was being treated this way. He tried to kick and hit, but, being a lot bigger and stronger than him, his uncle simply wrapped him with duct tape around and around until he couldn't move. Then Brendan picked him up over his shoulders and carried him and the backpack to the window. He climbed down with Luke still trying to free himself. Then he was being carried down the street to the waiting truck. Brendan put him inside with the backpack and got into the driver's side.
"I'm not going!" Luke shouted through the tape, muffled.
"You kind of are," Brendan answered, understanding him. He started the engine and took off. Luke twisted to look out the back window at his family home disappearing behind him. He wondered if he'd ever see his mother again.
1991
Montana, U.S.
Rita was sitting on the edge of her bed and looking at her father as he blushed and cleared his throat and fumbled through his way talking about sex. She was 11 years old, and he'd gotten the letter from school stating her health class was going to teach sex-ed, and he freaked out and said he wanted her to learn from him first rather than surrounded by a bunch of kids because he was the parent, so here he was trying to do it without losing his shit.
It wasn't going so well.
"The man does what?!" Rita exclaimed, freaked out. He'd just finished talking about where the baby comes from.
"Okay, it's not as gross as it seems," Lance tried. "It actually feels nice."
"Ewwwww!"
"Oh, God," he moaned, pressing a hand to his face. "This is not...I'm not...okay, just listen to me. It doesn't happen until you're in love with someone."
"It doesn't?" Rita asked, sounding hopeful.
"It's not supposed to," he corrected. "I mean, people hurt other people sometimes and do and touch things they're not supposed to, but ideally, it's not supposed to happen until you love the other person and you're ready and you both want to do it." He'd almost gone down the rabbit hole of other reasons why people have sex, but he had to dial that back. She was still a kid after all.
Rita felt funny in her stomach at this. Simon had touched things he wasn't supposed to, and he hadn't loved her. She debated on telling her father this, but she had a feeling he already knew from the way he was looking at her. She knew Tammy probably told him for safety reasons. She was older and understood that adults sometimes had to share things to keep kids safe, and she didn't doubt that would be one of them. She appreciated that her father didn't make her talk about it. She might talk about it with him one day, but not right now. She swallowed down her thoughts about Simon and didn't bring it up. Her father was already so flustered as it was.
"So, if I don't fall in love, I don't have to do it?"
"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Lance promised, "but I think one day you will. Just promise me you'll be married when you do it." He couldn't handle thinking about her being a teenager and sleeping with teenage boys or being taken advantage of. It was worth a shot, this plea. He knew he couldn't make her wait, but he decided to hold onto hope.
"Did you?"
"This isn't about me."
"So...no."
"If I had a do-over, I'd have waited for your mother," he said seriously. "I mean that."
"Okay."
"Now," he said, clearing his throat. "You are going to experience something known as your period."
"What's that?"
"Well, once a month..." he started, relying on the content he'd read from the book earlier that day. Rita was horrified the further he went on. She was going to WHAT every month?!
"I won't do it," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I won't." He started to laugh a little before sobering up at her expression.
"Unfortunately, you don't get a choice there, luv," he said. "The uterus does its thing whether you like it or not."
"Why are you telling me all this now?"
"Because you're going to be going through the changes soon, and I'd rather you know before it happens and you get scared."
"Why isn't my health class teacher telling me this stuff?"
"She will be. I wanted to do it first."
"Why?"
"I have no idea," he admitted. "I guess I thought as the parent, I should be the one to tell you life's next steps for you. Your mother or Carol would have, and since you're stuck with me, I felt it was up to me."
"I think you should have left it to the professionals," Rita commented.
"I think you're very right," he agreed. "Sorry, luv. Did I scare you?"
"No. I'm just really grossed out," she answered. He bit his cheeks to stop laughing.
"Okay," he said. "Go ride Willow for a bit as your reward for suffering through this talk with me."
"Okay!" She jumped off the bed and ran past him. She didn't want to think about the things he'd said anymore. It was making her think of Simon. He'd never put himself inside of her, but he'd done enough otherwise. It made her feel ashamed all over again remembering that his touch had felt good at times despite it being wrong.
"Come on, Willow!" she called, clicking her tongue. The horse trotted over to her, and she hopped up bareback. She knew her father hated when she did it, but she didn't care in that moment. For the next while, she just wanted to feel free.
Australia
Luke looked up from his homework as Brendan came inside. He shook the rain off and blew air out his lips.
"Nasty out there," he commented.
"Yep," Luke replied, going back to work. He wasn't as angry at his uncle anymore for kidnapping him, but he had his moments. He'd gotten to experience things he'd never had before, which included being with neighbor kids his age and doing activities that were fun like soccer. Every day wasn't focused on how to kill someone, and sometimes it was a relief. Other times, he felt confused because he'd liked learning how to be an assassin and missed doing it. The first while after he'd arrived here, Luke had spent it yelling and screaming and running away. He'd even stopped eating until he couldn't do it anymore and had to give in. Unfortunately for him, Brendan had taken him to a different country altogether, so he couldn't get back home. His uncle didn't have a phone, and they lived in the middle of nowhere, so he couldn't exactly find someone to ask for help. Brendan was also a very light sleeper, so he'd gotten caught the times he'd tried to steal the truck and drive away.
"You doing alright?"
"Yep."
Today was one of those days where Luke missed his mother and hated his uncle. He was 14 and trying to figure out his part in life, and he knew it was to do with being an assassin despite his mixed feelings about it. His uncle was taking that away from him slowly, but he fought to remember everything he'd been taught so far. It was ironic since his uncle used to be in the SAS. Luke imagined he did black ops work, so why was he so against Luke becoming just like him?
"Look," Brendan said with a sigh, sitting down backwards on a chair next to Luke. "I know you hate me, but I think you'll thank me later when you're living life as a normal person."
"I am normal," Luke shot back at him. Brendan sighed again.
"Normal kids don't know how to load an assault rifle," Brendan said, starting his same old spiel on cue. "Normal kids don't know how to slit someone's throat. Normal kids don't spend time planning out an attack on a target. You are not normal, Luke, but there's hope for you yet."
"You think you're some big hero cos you 'saved' me?" Luke asked, glaring at him. "I didn't need to be saved! I didn't ask to be saved!"
"Luke, I love you like a son," Brendan said. "If you were me, wouldn't you want to save a kid who is lost and scared? Wouldn't you want to give them a chance?"
"I'm not lost and I wasn't scared."
"Maybe not now, but what happens when you get to be a young man and realize everything you missed?"
"Like what?"
"Friends, for starters," Brendan answered. "Belonging to a club. Going on family vacations. Having grandparents. Being creative. Playing. Rolling around in the dirt. Going fishing. Having a dog. I dunno. Everything."
"I didn't need it."
Brendan just sat there looking at him with a sad expression before shaking his head and standing up. He left Luke alone, which Luke was grateful for.
It allowed him to release a few tears before wiping them away angrily.
...
Life with his uncle wasn't all that bad. Aside from the constant ache of missing his mother, Luke got along with Brendan fairly well. He told stories of things he and Jess did. He shared tricks around cooking. He taught Luke how to be a mechanic. He taught him how to speak Russian. He also got him into playing the electric guitar. He homeschooled Luke because he didn't want to risk Luke being found by his parents, and Luke felt like he learned more that way than he did at actual school. He got his socializing from the kids who lived around the area: Randy and Pete. It had been awkward at first, and Luke hadn't been able to fully let himself get close to either of them, which he felt angry about because here was his chance to have friends and he couldn't do it. They had fun, but he mostly let them do the talking about their lives. He kept his life experiences close to his chest.
One day, everything came crashing down. Luke was on the back step reading when shouting started in the front yard. He snapped his book shut and crept around to investigate. Masked men were attacking Brendan, who was putting up a very good fight in return. In the end, though, he was outmatched. One man shot him in the leg, and he went down hard. They shot him in the stomach next, and he leaned forward, resting a hand on the ground to prop himself up.
"No!" Luke shouted, unable to help himself. He yelped when someone grabbed the scruff of his neck and hauled him forward.
"We got the boy," his captor said to the leader, who was standing over Brendan. Luke watched the man listen and nod his head slowly before looking down at Brendan, and he felt very afraid suddenly.
"Take him to the car."
Luke tried to get free because he knew what was coming next. The leader, who he now knew was Johnny after hearing his voice just now, kicked Brendan over onto his back.
"Uncle Brendan!" Luke shrieked. Brendan turned his face to see him, and he smiled.
"Don't ever forget about me," he said softly. "Or what you learned here."
"I won't," Luke promised, still trying to free himself. Brendan turned his face away from Luke and closed his eyes. Luke screamed long and hard when Johnny shot his uncle to death. He was picked up and carried to a waiting SUV and then put on a private jet.
Montana, U.S.
"Dad," Rita said, finding him in the garage. "Norma still isn't eating." Lance looked up from what he was doing to meet her eyes. She felt scared inside, but she understood that animals died. She just wasn't ready.
"I see," Lance said.
"Is she dying?"
"Well, honey, she is 14 years old."
"I don't want to say goodbye to her yet," Rita said.
"I know, but sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do."
Rita wanted to argue, but she knew it was pointless. She waited for her father to finish what he was doing and go see Norma for himself. He took one look at her, and Rita recognized the look of pain on his face. Her beloved friend hadn't really eaten much in a week, and she didn't want her to suffer if she was in pain.
"Dad?" she prompted, her voice sounding scared. He didn't answer as he got into the pen and sat down next to Norma, pulling her half onto his lap and stroking her fur gently.
"Are you ready, old girl?" he asked softly. Norma made a sound in her throat and gave a small snort in return. When he pressed on her stomach, she made a noise of pain.
"Dad?" Rita asked again.
"I'll take care of her. Go inside."
"I want to say goodbye first."
"Alright."
Rita came in to join him and knelt down next to Norma. She hugged the goat's neck and whispered into her ear about how much she loved her. She promised to never forget her. Rita noticed her father's eyes were a bit wet when she stood up to leave.
"Don't come outside until I tell you to," he instructed. Rita swallowed around the lump in her throat.
"Okay," she whispered. She went towards the house, each step feeling heavier and heavier. Once inside, she went to her room and sat on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. About ten minutes later, she heard the gunshot. She stuffed her fist into her mouth and bit down on it hard, stifling her sobs.
She knew this was the life of a farmer, but she hadn't been prepared for how hard it really was.
...
Lance hated this part of farming. When Rosie had brought home all her beloved friends, he knew that he'd be doing this part of it one day. He knew Willow and Hank had a longer life span, but the others didn't. Chickens he didn't care much about dealing with. They came and went like nothing. Norma was a bit closer to home because she was a link to Rosie. He dreaded the day he'd have to say goodbye to Willow or Hank.
He buried Norma and stood with folded hands overlooking her grave for a moment. Norma's offspring were still there. They'd kept a couple after selling the rest. Lance knew Rita would be having a hard time with this, and while he felt bad, he hoped she understood what it meant to be a farmer. If he had more money, he'd have gotten the vet to do it. As it was, it was more affordable to take care of it himself. He'd called Kenny, who'd advised on how to do it in the best way, and he'd followed the instructions to the letter.
He walked back to the house and found Rita crying on her bed. He pulled her into his lap and held her while she mourned the loss of her dearest friend. His own throat and eyes burned with emotion. It was like losing a piece of Rosie all over again for him. He remembered going with her to pick out Norma. The bloody goat had done nothing but try to knock him in the knees repeatedly, and Rosie had taken it to be a sign that she was meant to be theirs, that she felt a connection with them, especially Lance.
"It'll be alright," he told Rita now, hugging her tight. "One day, it'll be alright."
London, U.K.
Luke felt numb as he was ushered out of the car by Johnny, who went inside without a word. He saw his mother running towards him, and he barely felt her grab a hold of him and hug him tightly. All he could see was his uncle being murdered over and over again in his mind.
"Luke," Jess sobbed. "Oh my God, Luke! I missed you so much!"
He stared at her when she pushed him back to examine him.
"You've grown so much," she lamented, touching his face and smoothing a hand over his head.
"Why?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" she countered, confused.
"Why did he kill him?"
Jess inhaled slowly before exhaling. She looked at the ground for a second before looking back at him.
"Actions have consequences," she answered, "and he always knew what the consequences were if he took you away from me."
"Was he my father?" Luke asked. He'd started piecing it together sooner than he figured anyone realized.
"Your father is in the house," Jess answered without answering the question. Luke pressed his lips together. He knew she was lying, that Brendan was his real father and Johnny had moved in after Jess left Brendan and married her.
"He didn't deserve to die," Luke said, not letting it go easily.
"He had a target on his back anyway," Jess told him, reaching to smooth his head with her hand again. "The agency called it in and gave the job to us right after he took you and left. That would have happened regardless."
Luke said nothing else. Jess pulled him inside where Johnny was now chugging a beer. Luke barely even looked at him before he went to his room and found it exactly the way he'd left it. He stayed there for a while until his mother found him.
"You gonna hide in here forever?" she asked.
"Maybe."
"I know all of this was a huge ordeal," she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes, "but it had to be done. I hope you can understand that. I'm sorry it took so long to bring you home."
"Why did he have stories of you as kids if he's not your brother?"
"We grew up together," Jess answered. "He was my best friend. I've known him a very long time."
"And you killed him," Luke said bluntly. He didn't care that it was Johnny who pulled the trigger. He blamed his mother just as much. She hadn't even tried to stop it.
"Sometimes we have to do what we have to do. It was him or us."
Luke felt a swell of emotion then, thinking about it all. Despite what Brendan had done, he'd done it with the best of intentions. He'd tried to save Luke's life and give him something else to live for. He didn't understand what his mother meant by the last part. Who would kill her and Johnny for not killing Brendan? The agency? He recalled a conversation she'd had with him years ago about asking questions and getting a hit put out on you for doing that. He felt more confused. He also felt confused that he was both angry at his mother and aching from missing her for so long. He'd known her longer. Maybe Brendan had been a really bad person in the past. He would never know now.
"How much have you forgotten of our training?" Jess asked.
"Not much."
"Good. Then we have some catching up to do since you've missed out on a while of it."
"Okay."
She ruffled his hair and left him alone. He sat there in the growing darkness and accepted that this was his life. There was no escaping it. It would always come back to get him in some way, shape, or form.
He might as well welcome it with open arms.
1993
Montana, U.S.
Rita was feeling nervous about grade eight approaching next year. It was late spring, and she knew that she still had time to prepare, but it didn't feel like enough time either. It was all so confusing. She was thankful she had a while yet before thinking about high school.
She danced around in her room to her father's favorite cassette tape of Johnny Cash. She felt like she was growing up but still a child all at the same time. Her emotions were sometimes up and down, and she was noticing changes along with the dreaded period she'd started to get recently just before her 13th birthday. It had been beyond mortifying to buy the things she'd needed for that with her father trying to assist.
"Rita!" her father called. "Supper!"
She clambered down the stairs, almost tripping on the second last one. She skidded around the corner and flopped into the chair, resting her elbows on the table. Lance set down a plate of spaghetti in front of her.
"Smells delish," she said.
"Please don't short form your words," he said wearily.
"Sorry. It smells delicious," she corrected.
"Thank you."
She felt bad for him sometimes, knowing he was the sole provider and parent. He'd never shown any interest in dating anyone else or getting married again, so Rita figured he was okay with being alone. She preferred it that way anyway. Who was to say the next step-family she got wouldn't hurt her like Simon did?
"What is on the agenda for this weekend?" Lance asked.
"I wanna finish my book and ride Willow."
"That's it?"
"Yea."
"Okay."
Rita knew her father wanted her to make friends, but she just had a hard time doing that. She didn't trust that people were genuine or that they didn't want to hurt her in some way. She felt like if she kept to herself, she'd be just fine. She tried Tammy's advice about trying to trust others, but she still struggled with it.
"Am I a big disappointment to you?" she asked, needing to know suddenly. Lance set down his fork in surprise.
"Lord no," he answered. "You most certainly are not. Where would you even get such an idea?"
"I just feel like I disappoint you when I don't go out and make friends."
"It doesn't disappoint me. I just feel like I've failed you by letting you be a loner."
"I like being alone."
"I know, but sometimes it's good to have company."
"Maybe in high school," Rita said with a smile. He smiled back.
"I'll hold you to it."
"Okay."
They did small talk over supper, and then Rita went to do the farm chores, which her father had been teaching her over the years and finally letting her do alone. He didn't even have to double check anymore to see if she was doing it right. She felt proud of his trust in her abilities.
She fell asleep and dreamed about what a best friend would be like.
Somalia
Luke was steadying his breathing as he looked through the sniper rifle. Everything was in position. All he had to do was wait and fire the shot. He held his breath as the target walked into his scope.
He pulled the trigger.
Below, chaos ensued. People were screaming and shouting. Others were running around. Luke watched it all for a moment, feeling the weight of what he'd just done. It was his mother's job, but she'd sent him to do it for her for practice after deeming him ready. He forced himself to stop watching the sobbing wife of his target and moved quickly, packing up his rifle and leaving his post. He made it to the street where he suddenly bent over and threw up. When he finished, he straightened up and made sure no one was watching. Nobody was. He disappeared into the crowd and didn't look back.
The Next Day
Luke walked into the house and found his mother standing by the sink washing dishes.
"How'd it go, baby?" she asked, looking up at him. He shrugged off his backpack. He'd slept on the plane ride back. His mother's agency always provided a jet when there was a job outside of the country. No one asked why it was him going and not her. No one cared.
"It's done," Luke answered. He didn't tell her how he'd thrown up moments after doing it. He didn't tell her the nightmares he had and the sound of the wife's screams echoing in his mind all day. He'd prepared for this for so long, but no one had told him about the sounds of anguish from the target's loved ones and how they'd rip him in half.
"I'm so proud of you," Jess said, smiling. He gave a brief smile back before going to his room. He began destroying the evidence of his mission.
He looked at himself in the mirror later, examining his eyes. He didn't look as broken as he felt, but he knew that with enough time, he'd be fine. He wouldn't be as affected by killing someone. It would be second nature to him.
It was only a matter of time.
A Week Later
Luke couldn't stand the sound of the fighting downstairs. Johnny was drinking more and more these days, and he was also getting more violent. Jess screamed, and the sound went through Luke like a knife. The screams of the witnesses from the other day came back full force in his mind too. He wasn't handling this very well.
"No, Johnny, no!" Jess wailed, begging. Luke got up and went to investigate. He'd stood by too often as Johnny beat his mother. She'd told him to never interfere, and sometimes he would anyway and face the consequences of it, which would cause him to leave it alone next time, but today...today he wasn't going to just sit by and listen to this. He never forgot the promise he'd made to himself when he was three years old. Today, he was going to act on it.
He saw Johnny standing over his mother with a knife in his hand, and he saw red. He lunged, catching hold of Johnny's wrist and wrangling the knife from him.
"Luke!" Jess shrieked. Johnny tried to fight Luke off, but Luke was stronger now. He wasn't able to just be tossed aside anymore. He threw Johnny down. Then he set the knife down on the table.
"Leave," he ordered.
"You don't tell me what to do, boy," Johnny said.
"And you're not really my father, but there's not much we can do about either of these things, right?"
"What did you say to me?" Johnny demanded.
"Luke," Jess tried again.
"Leave her alone," Luke ordered Johnny angrily. "You pathetic old man." He spat at him and went to leave when Jess screamed again. Johnny was coming at him with the knife back in his hand, aiming right for his neck. Luke fell to the floor and grabbed the pistol that was taped underneath the table. As Johnny came down to stab him, Luke aimed up and fired three times. He rolled out of the way as Johnny fell to the floor, knife still in hand. It clattered away from him after the fall.
"Oh my God," Jess whimpered. Luke could feel Johnny's blood spatter on his cheek as he breathed hard. He'd killed Johnny. That wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but he was surprised to realize he didn't feel sorry about it. It felt almost like justice for Brendan in a way. Jess got to her feet and stumbled away from Johnny, gripping the counter with her hands. She started to cry and shake, but then she got a hold of herself and swallowed a few times before looking at her son.
"What do we do now?" Luke asked, his voice shaking.
"We get the hell out of here," she answered.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"I haven't quite figured it out yet," she answered, "but I have an idea." Luke didn't press for any more information. He simply trusted her.
24 Hours Later
Montana, U.S.
Lance was hauling hay around when he heard car tires come up his driveway. He tensed, looking to see who was coming. Rita was in the house doing homework. He briefly wondered if he needed to enact on his safety plan. He gripped the pitchfork as the car came to a stop. A woman got out of the car and looked around before spotting him. She approached slowly.
"Harry?" she asked. He gave a jolt at the name. No one had called him that in a very long time. He recognized her now. Jessie, but she threatened to stab anyone who called her anything but Jess. She had a banged up face, indicating she'd been in a fight recently.
"My name is Lance," he corrected.
"Oh, I see. Well, Lance, long time no see," she said. He looked at Jess and wondered what the hell she was doing here.
"How did you find me?"
"Dennis. I was desperate."
Dennis. The bastard had sold him out. He'd have to give him hell for that.
"Alright, so why are you here?"
Jess looked back at the car where a teenage boy sat hunkered in the front seat. She looked at Lance again.
"He killed Johnny," she said softly. Lance felt a jolt of surprise. Johnny Wright? Once upon a time, Johnny was ruthless and always came out on top.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"Johnny came at me with a knife aimed at my throat. Luke intervened and tried to calm him down, but he went after Luke next. Luke shot him in order to live. We fled soon after."
"You called Dennis."
"Yea. I still had his information you gave me. I didn't think he'd take my call, but he did. It took me almost half an hour to wrangle out of him where you were, but I told him you were the only person I could trust right now, so he caved. I owe him."
"No one's looking for you?"
"Not yet. I dealt with the mess, but it's only a matter of time."
"You don't seem that upset he's dead."
"I loved him, but I hated him more often than not," Jess replied. "It was...complicated."
Lance nodded slowly, looking at the boy, who was looking back at him through the glass.
"So what do you want with me?" he asked her after a moment.
"I want you to finish his training," Jess answered, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Luke still has a future. I don't. I have to go on the run now as they'll accuse me of killing Johnny and look for me, and I can live with that. I'll be fine."
"You want me to train him?" Lance asked, scoffing. "Are you crazy? I left that life behind a long time ago, if you recall."
"A true assassin is never fully retired," Jess countered.
"Why do you want that kind of life for him?" Lance inquired. "Why not let him be free?"
"He'll never be free now, not after Johnny. Besides, he's already done his first solo mission last week," Jess explained. "Please, Lance. You owe me one."
"How so?"
"You owe me one because I can gladly call up our boss and tell him where you are, and we both know that Colter is still looking for you and would come finish you off within the week," she said. "Take him. Raise him. Finish training him. That's all I ask." Lance stared at her. Blackmail. That was fun.
"And then what?"
"Let him loose in the world," she answered. "He'll know what to do."
Lance fidgeted with his fingers. He didn't want to do this, but he didn't want her to tell anyone else where he was either. He knew she'd keep her word if he kept his.
"Fine," he agreed. Jess signaled to the boy, and Luke got out of the car, backpack slung over his shoulder. He stood and looked at Lance warily.
"Luke, come here," Jess said, gesturing, and the boy stepped closer.
"How old are you?" Lance asked him.
"Sixteen, sir," Luke answered. Lance took him in carefully. He was lanky but muscular. His hazel eyes were working hard to be tough but showed vulnerability and pain. His brown hair was cut short. His jaw was clenching and releasing.
"You know who I am?" Lance asked.
"A friend of my mother's."
"This is Harry, but he goes by Lance now. Remember I told you about him? He's gonna finish training you," Jess told Luke, making him look at her now.
"You said Harry was dead."
"I lied."
"Right," Luke said with a snort. "I should have known. So where are you going?"
"I have to disappear," Jess replied. She reached to hug him, and he put an arm around her stiffly.
"Why can't you just stay here?"
"Because I'll put you at risk if I stay here," she answered.
"I'm never seeing you again, am I?" Luke asked next after she pulled back from him. She wiped a tear from her eye.
"Never say never," she answered. "Okay?"
Luke said nothing, and Jess gave a watery smile before looking at Lance again.
"I really appreciate this," she said.
"Don't thank me yet," Lance retorted. She swiped at her hair again and smiled at Luke.
"You're gonna be fine, baby," she said. "I have faith. Remember everything I taught you, and you'll do good." She pressed a hand to his cheek one last time.
"Bye, Mum," Luke said.
"Bye, luv. I love you."
She walked to her car and waved before getting in. Both Lance and Luke watched her back up and turn around before driving away. The dust rose in the air as she got farther away. When she was gone, they both looked at each other.
"I have one rule," Lance said.
"Okay," Luke agreed.
"My daughter is becoming a beautiful young woman, and she means the world to me."
"Okay..."
"What I'm trying to say is you leave her the hell alone," Lance directed. "You don't touch her, you don't think about her, you don't date her. You do that and you're out of here. You understand?"
"Perfectly."
"Good. Now get inside. I'll set you up with a room."
"Thank you, sir."
They walked towards the house, and Lance caught sight of Rita watching from her bedroom window, her face showing curiosity at this new person he was bringing into her world.
"One more thing, Luke," Lance said as he pulled open the door.
"Yea?"
"She has no idea who I really am. Keep it that way. That's my second rule."
"Understood."
...
Rita was extremely curious as to who this boy was her father had brought to live with them. He'd explained an old friend had asked him to look after Luke, and he agreed because she was desperate. Rita wondered if this was her father's way of making up for not being able to help Simon, although she couldn't help but feel relieved Simon was gone. She was finally starting to live normally and not in constant fear that she was going to get hurt somehow.
She was at the age where she recognized a good looking boy when she saw one, and her heart gave a flutter every time she looked at Luke. He showed zero interest in her, however. Then she felt conflicted because what if this new person hurt her like Simon had? She thought about what Tammy had said, and she listened to her gut as she examined him standing next to her father. Nothing about him was giving her red flags, not yet anyway. She decided she would wait and see what happened before making a final decision about whether or not to trust him yet.
"Where are you from?" she asked him later that evening as he sat across from her at the table for dinner. She hadn't seen him much since he'd arrived since he'd been given permission to sleep a little. She figured he probably hadn't slept much on his journey here. Her father shot her a look, which she ignored.
"England," Luke answered.
"Why did you leave?"
"Rita," Lance said impatiently. "Don't drill him."
"I'm not!"
"Just wanted some different scenery," Luke answered anyway with a shrug. Rita had a feeling there was more to it than that. His eyes told her he was feeling some pain. She knew what that looked like. The fact it was there told her that maybe they could have something in common, and she craved having something in common with someone since the other kids at school always seemed happy and carefree. She'd never wanted her father to worry about her, so she didn't talk about her pain with him very much, if at all. With Luke, though, maybe they'd find connection through their pain. Maybe she could have a best friend after all.
"How long are you staying with us?"
"Rita!"
Luke looked at Lance for the answer, and Rita realized it was up to her father how long this boy stayed with them.
"As long as it takes," Lance said after a moment. He pointed his fork at Rita. "No more questions."
Rita rolled her eyes and repeated what he said with her lips but without making a sound. She noticed Luke biting down a smirk.
"Don't you have homework to do?" Lance asked her, catching it and scowling at her.
"I'm eating."
"Well hurry up."
"Geez, Dad," she said, throwing her fork down. "Alright. I'll starve and go do my homework." She pushed her chair back hard and stood up. She didn't even look back as she stalked off. She thumped loudly up the stairs, went to her room, and closed her door shut hard while standing on the outside of it. She counted to five before creeping back down the stairs towards the kitchen.
...
Luke knew Rita was eavesdropping. Lance knew too. He kept chewing without saying a word, all the while flicking his eyes to the silver platter on top of the hutch across from him. Luke could see Rita's reflection in it too. He wanted to laugh out loud. This 13 year old girl had a lot of sass in her, but he could also see behind her eyes there was pain. It was like looking in the mirror.
"You'll help out with the farm chores," Lance said after a moment, his eye still on the platter.
"Alright."
Luke had noticed some animals when he'd arrived but hadn't mentioned anything about it. He still wanted to know why his mother had left him here. Did she not realize he was capable of being on the run with her? Why did she want him separate from her? And why had she lied about Harry being dead when he was more alive than ever in front of him?
Never say never.
He resisted scoffing. He knew he was never going to see his mother again. Who was she kidding?
"Let's go," Lance said, scraping his chair back and getting up. Luke followed suit. He saw Rita retreat in the reflection, and he knew she'd be disappointed to not get anything useful from her sneaking around.
"You'll go to school," Lance said once they were outside. "Since the school year is almost over, you'll go in the fall. In the meantime, you can help out Kenny next door with his farm."
"Okay."
"Unlike your mother," Lance went on, opening the barn door and ushering Luke inside, "I'm not going to send you on missions. I'm going to train you my way, and when you're 20, if you still want to do this, so be it."
"If your daughter finds out what I'm doing and asks questions?" Luke asked.
"You tell her your goal is to join the military. She won't ask any more questions after that."
"Got it."
"Luke, you're still a kid," Lance said, running a hand over his head and sighing. "I didn't start training until I was about 17, but it looks like you've been doing this for a while. Am I right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Your mother always was ambitious."
"How did you know her?"
"I finished her training," Lance answered. "She shadowed me for a bit before going her own way. Then she got caught up with Johnny."
"Why did she tell me you were dead?" Luke questioned. It was worth a shot.
"That's none of your business," Lance replied. "But you'll keep your mouth shut about me if you know what's good for you."
"I will."
"And I meant what I said about Rita."
"Yes, sir."
"Alright," Lance said, turning to the horse. "Now, this is Willow..."
Luke followed as Lance walked him around the barn and introduced the animals, and he wondered just how he was going to survive here.
Okay, so maybe this is nuts, but I can't stop envisioning Liam Neeson as Lance. I know it's the wrong accent, but he is who I picture every time I write him...to the point I changed his height and hair color in chapter one lol. Just so you know :)