Title: Resurfacing
Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine
Rating: R
Summary: see chapter one.
Warnings: see chapter one.
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be touched. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intention to entertain.
****************
They all jumped to their feet when the sound of a car pulling up got their attention.
"Do you think we can trust her?" Tyson whispered to Ray as they followed the adults.
"We don't have a lot of options," the tiger whispered back. "But...if Kai had her number, then she must be on our side."
"But then why did she abandon Kai in the first place?" Max joined in.
He couldn't answer that which was good since they were already outside, approaching the long limo that came to a stop.
Standing in a line along with Bruce, Mr. Granger and Judy, the teens watched with open curiosity and hidden tension as Mr. Dickenson stepped forward.
The driver door opened and a young man stepped out, dressed smartly in a chauffeur uniform, dark hair parted down the middle. Walking around, he reached the back passenger door and took hold of the handle.
Mr. Dickenson turned to offer the teens a hopeful smile before the sound of the door being opened drew his eyes back.
An elegantly gloved hand reached out and accepted the chauffeur's offered one. A large ruby ring sparkled in the afternoon sun. Soon the rest of the arm emerged, followed by its owner as Anne-Marie Hiwatari stepped out of the car.
***************
*~*~*~begin flashback~*~*~*
"What's out there?"
He blinked at the soft voice that had broken the comfortable silence between them. Turning his head to the side, he met the innocent blue eyes that waited for an answer.
"Where?"
Sitting up, the young red-head pointed to the horizon, the sun just rising over the forest, slowly bringing what warmth to the icy lands. The rays quickly spread, the sudden brightness forcing the two young boys on the roof to shield their eyes. The intensity lessened as the sun rose higher, allowing them to lower their arms. It wasn't until then that the bluenette replied.
"More trees and snow."
"And after those?"
"The rest of Russia."
"And after that?" Tala persisted, hugging his knees to his chest.
"The ocean. And then the rest of the world."
"There's a lot..." he concluded, staring at the distance.
"Yeah."
"They sound nice. Did you ever go there? To the ocean? And the rest of the world?"
"Some of it," Kai answered, smiling softly when the blue eyes widened.
"Really?!" Tala scooted to sit closer, "What was it like?"
"Different," he answered after a few moments thought, "People were always different. Once, we went to America! We stayed near the ocean and there were very long beaches with white sand, just like snow, only warmer."
"Where else did you go?" he asked, completely absorbed in his blue-haired friend words.
Kai described as much as he could remember; the tall buildings in New York, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, pyramids in South America, castles in England and Norway.
It was all so new to Tala. He would have never imagined all the things hidden beyond the horizon.
"Where did you go?"
"Huh?" he blinked at the question.
"On vacation, where did you go?"
He bit his lower lip.
"I...I've never been anywhere."
"Oh...well...it wasn't really *that* nice. And...and...," Kai tried to make the redhead feel better.
"It's okay."
An arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Returning it, Tala smiled at the young bluenette.
"Besides, it's better to be here with you."
Kai smiled back before a mischievous gleam glittered in his eyes. Tala was caught off guard when a handful of snow was suddenly shoved in his face. Yelping at the sudden cold, he jumped back, glaring at the laughing bluenette.
"I'm going to get you for that!"
"You have to catch me first!" Kai shouted, jumping to his feet and running across the roof to the open window. Behind him he heard Tala shout out another threat before the red-head's footsteps followed, chasing his friend back into the dark towers of the Abbey.
*~*~*~end flashback~*~*~*
Opening his eyes, Kai smiled through the pain at the memory.
'What I would give just to see you again, Tala.'
The water around him was tinged pink with blood. Sighing, he looked up at the clock mounted on the wall. More than half an hour had passed and Margaret hadn't returned yet. He felt a surge of concern flow through him but then calmed himself; Voltaire would be very busy with that phone call. Margaret was probably cleaning more than she had told him.
Still, he was getting tired of sitting in the water. Rising, dried himself off, which was rather hard since any form of movement stretched the welts and cuts. He stopped as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Towel forgotten, he stepped closer, studying the somber teen in the mirror.
His face paint had long been gone. The fire in his eyes had been smothered when Dranzer had been struck. His wild bangs hung limply before them. Voltaire had been right when he said that he had grown thinner; his already slender body having lost more flesh. It wouldn't be long before he could see his ribs clearly. And then there were the marks; blue, red, purple, black; all of them contrasting starkly with his pale skin.
Disgusted, he looked away, grabbing the bathrobe left by Margaret. The soft material felt coarse against his burning skin but he shrugged it on anyways, tying the belt tighter than necessary.
'How much longer? How much more can I take? How much more can he give?'
The last was obvious; a lot.
The brightness of the room was irritating him. Not knowing what he was doing, he walked over to the door and turned the handle only to remember what Margaret had said about staying put. However, to his surprise, the door opened easily. He thought that she had locked it. Opening it further, he hesitated before stepping out into the hall; the first time he had been able to go somewhere on his own since his abduction.
The first thing that came to mind was escape. No one was around and he was no longer confined.
He snorted.
'Right, like that bastard would just leave the front door open.'
Next to the many locks, bolts and chains that were no doubt attached to every door, window and any other exit in the mansion, if he *did* manage to get outside, what then? They were in the middle of no where with nothing but tall mountains and freezing temperature. Without his wounds he may have been able to make it but he didn't stand a chance in his condition.
'And I can't leave Margaret with him.'
Every and any thing that could stop him did. It would be very dumb to risk an escape and more beatings.
Planning on simply returning to his room, he started down the hall but stopped, turning around for some reason. Nothing was behind him with exception of more doors. And the end of the hall...
The carpet completely muted his steps as he walked, eyes fixed on the tall double doors at the end.
Light from the hall filtered into the room as he pushed the heavy doors open, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark. With the darkness, a strong odor struck him making him take a few steps back, shaking his head to try and clear the smell but it refused to go away. A feeling of uncertain dread swept through his mind but he pushed it away.
Called by something unknown, he slipped inside, closing the doors, shutting off the source of light, plunging the large chamber back into musty blackness.
Without really thinking, he reached out to the left, and found the light switch he knew was there.
Lit, the room was grand; soft carpet, sweeping drapes, immense bed; exactly like in his dreams, memories and nightmares.
His parents' room. The room that had witness love and hate, laugher and tears, comfort and pain. Like his former sleeping quarters, this one had been left in the exact state it had been that night years ago. Everything still laid where they had been left or thrown; his mother's purse still on her nightstand, his father's jacket still hanging over the chair. It was as if they were still in there, living.
Taking small steps, he moved more to the center, eyes studying everything at once only to fall on the bed. The sheets were neatly made but two lumps beneath it looked out of place; something was hiding beneath the silky cloth.
Ignoring the voice in his head that told him to turn around, he moved closer, feeling a strong yet frightening pull.
The distance between him and the bed was soon covered and he found himself standing right next to it, looking down on the clothed objects with some trepidation; what were they? Why did they draw him yet push him away at the same time?
"Kai?"
He heard Margaret opened the bathroom door down the hall but couldn't answer. Instead he lifted a hand and slowly took hold of the corner of the sheet.
"Kai! Where are you?!" Her voice sounded panicky yet distant.
The air around felt thick and he could hear the slightest breeze, eyes only on the bed and its contents.
"Oh God..." she said, no doubt having guessed where he was. He could hear her running, desperately shouting his name, calling him back. But he couldn't do what she begged him.
Gripping the material tighter, he inhaled deeply, the offensive smell as strong as ever.
"No Kai!! Don't!!"
Ignoring the pains and her cries, he kept his eyes on the nearest of the two forms beneath the sheet...
...and pulled the cloth off.
Behind him the door slammed open, echoing loudly through the large hall. Margaret's breath was heavy and she continued to call him.
And he didn't hear anything.
He couldn't hear anything.
All he could do was stare.
Stare at the empty sockets of the grey skull. Stare at the aged bones that were partially hidden by a floral dress. Stare at the ring that was still around a fleshless finger.
A wedding ring.
His mother's wedding ring.
His mother's dress.
His mother's skull.
"Kai..."
Next to the rotten skeleton of his mother was another, larger one, still dressed in long pants and a long, black coat that had shielded him and his mother many times during the cold and the rain. A watch, Rolex, still clung to a bony wrist.
All that remained of Sergey Hiwatari.
His parents.
Their decayed skeletons.
Laid out on their bed in mock peace.
Pinned on a pillow between them was a note, written in Russian; Rot in Peace.
Nausea crashed down upon him and falling to his knees, he began to throw up the little contents in his stomach. Tears poured from his clenched eyes and he sobbed in between vomiting, the sight and smell ravaging his senses.
And, somehow, amidst all of that, he started to scream. Scream in despair and anger and fear, cursing Voltaire off the face of this earth and begging God to end this.
"What did I do?!? WHAT DID *I* EVER DO?!?!" he shouted, clenching his fist as he shouted into space.
"Kai, please--" Margaret tried to get him to his feet but he didn't cooperate.
"KILL ME!! DAMN YOU, WHY DON'T YOU KILL ME TOO!!"
"Don't say that--"
"I HAVE NOTHING!! I LOST EVERYTHING THAT HAD EVER MEANT SOMETHING TO ME!!"
Margaret began to cry, unable to cope with the anguish in his voice.
"I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!! NOTHING MATTERS!!! I..." He suddenly slumped forward, feeling weak and light headed.
"I..." he said again, in a hoarse voice, the taste of bile still in his mouth, "I'm too tired...I'm too tired of hurting. I'm too tired of being afraid. I'm too tired of everything..."
Too numb to move, Margaret watched with tearful eyes as he reached out to touch the stiff fabric of his mother's dress, staring at the person he had last seen years ago, alive and frightened as she had tried to save the both of them from the tyrant of the house.
"Let me be with them. Please, I just want to be with them..."
"You can't..."
"They were so strong...and they died so soon." He stared with haunted eyes at his mother's boned face, picturing how beautiful it had been when she was alive. "I am a weakling... and I'm still alive. It's not fair...It's not fair..."
She couldn't think of any thing to say to that so she sat down beside him, placing a hand on a robed shoulder.
"I'm so tired, Margaret…I can't fight him anymore…"
Many minutes passed and the two remained silent; Kai staring at his parents skeletal remains, Margaret staring at her young master, racking her brain for something to say, to assure him, but the weigh of the despair settled on her, suffocating her.
"A lovely family reunion, I see."
She jumped up and turned, glaring at the smug expression on Voltaire's face from where he stood in the doorway.
"Are you going to do anything about it, *whore*?" he spat at her. "It's your own negligence that allowed him the chance to discover them. I had kept this a secret for all these years from him. If anything you've done more damage than I for letting him see this."
Margaret felt her heart clench at the truth behind the words; had she returned in time Kai would never have wandered in here.
"Get our baggage ready, whore; we will be leaving soon."
She didn't move, not wanting to leave him alone with Kai.
Having no doubt foreseen her possible disobedience, he drew a gun out of his coat and aimed it, not at her, but at the teen that still kneeled next to the bed, too gone to pay attention to the happenings behind him.
"As much as I would love to claim the boy when he is mourning, we have no time. He will be safe, for now. Follow my orders unless you want me to complete the family morgue."
Looking back at Kai, she dried her tears and nodded numbly. What else could she do? With a parting prayer to the boy, she slowly walked out, nervously passing the master of the house but he didn't do anything, eyes fixed on his grandson.
Once she was gone he moved, coming to stand next to where Kai still knelt next to the bed. The elder tsk-tsk'ed as he stared down with twisted pride at what used to be his daughter-in-law and son.
"Ever wondered why the court was never able to sentence me after they suspected me to be their killer? Their bodies were never found."
Kai didn't respond, his hand hesitantly touching the remains of his mother's own, running the tips of his finger over the golden charm bracelet that once chimed as she moved, now silent where it still clung on her wrist, resting on the sheets.
"Your father was rather disappointing, though I never expected much from him. A single bullet to his spine had immobilized where he had been walking to the car. I let him writhe in agony for many minutes. He finally stopped moving, though his eyes had remained on me, glaring as blood dribbled from his mouth. I would have delayed his much deserved death, but it was rather cold outside, so I emptied two rounds in both eyes."
The words rang through his ears, echoing over and over as the vision formed in his mind; his father lying in a pool of his own blood in the driveway, freezing to death, the last thing he saw his own father's smirking leer.
Subconsciously, he started to hum softly, to himself. Something, anything that could remind him of the two people he had loved so much when his days had been bright. The song was something his mother had invented just for him, a tune she would soothe him with. How he wished she was the one singing it now.
Voltaire grinned when he heard the lullaby.
"She used to sing so well, didn't she? Her voice certainly wasn't as graceful when I had my hands wrapped around her throat. She had cried like an injured bitch. Crying for you, coming to think of it. A quick twist of my wrists and her neck had snapped cleanly."
He didn't stop humming, rocking gently; something his mother used to do while she had held him. Raising a hand, he tried to touch a high cheekbone but a coarse hand grabbed his and he was roughly yanked to his feet.
"But enough pleasantries, there is much to do."
Kai didn't respond, eyes fixed on the piles of bones. His hand gripped his mother's wrist, feeling the coldness of the bracelet.
It was hopeless…
"I said come here, boy."
Nothing was worth fighting for…
"Kai," Voltaire snapped, losing patience.
It was time to accept…
Voltaire was about to physically haul the boy away when Kai stood slowly. A few seconds passed as the boy kept staring at the corpses before he turned to face his grandfather. There was nothing. The phoenix's face had always been indifferent, but now so were his eyes. There wasn't any anger or despair, pain or suffering, lost or defeat. Simply…blank.
"Good boy."
He had finally committed the perfect crime;
Without any evidence or weapon, he had killed another soul.
tbc..............
*************
Read & Review, please.
Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine
Rating: R
Summary: see chapter one.
Warnings: see chapter one.
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be touched. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intention to entertain.
****************
They all jumped to their feet when the sound of a car pulling up got their attention.
"Do you think we can trust her?" Tyson whispered to Ray as they followed the adults.
"We don't have a lot of options," the tiger whispered back. "But...if Kai had her number, then she must be on our side."
"But then why did she abandon Kai in the first place?" Max joined in.
He couldn't answer that which was good since they were already outside, approaching the long limo that came to a stop.
Standing in a line along with Bruce, Mr. Granger and Judy, the teens watched with open curiosity and hidden tension as Mr. Dickenson stepped forward.
The driver door opened and a young man stepped out, dressed smartly in a chauffeur uniform, dark hair parted down the middle. Walking around, he reached the back passenger door and took hold of the handle.
Mr. Dickenson turned to offer the teens a hopeful smile before the sound of the door being opened drew his eyes back.
An elegantly gloved hand reached out and accepted the chauffeur's offered one. A large ruby ring sparkled in the afternoon sun. Soon the rest of the arm emerged, followed by its owner as Anne-Marie Hiwatari stepped out of the car.
***************
*~*~*~begin flashback~*~*~*
"What's out there?"
He blinked at the soft voice that had broken the comfortable silence between them. Turning his head to the side, he met the innocent blue eyes that waited for an answer.
"Where?"
Sitting up, the young red-head pointed to the horizon, the sun just rising over the forest, slowly bringing what warmth to the icy lands. The rays quickly spread, the sudden brightness forcing the two young boys on the roof to shield their eyes. The intensity lessened as the sun rose higher, allowing them to lower their arms. It wasn't until then that the bluenette replied.
"More trees and snow."
"And after those?"
"The rest of Russia."
"And after that?" Tala persisted, hugging his knees to his chest.
"The ocean. And then the rest of the world."
"There's a lot..." he concluded, staring at the distance.
"Yeah."
"They sound nice. Did you ever go there? To the ocean? And the rest of the world?"
"Some of it," Kai answered, smiling softly when the blue eyes widened.
"Really?!" Tala scooted to sit closer, "What was it like?"
"Different," he answered after a few moments thought, "People were always different. Once, we went to America! We stayed near the ocean and there were very long beaches with white sand, just like snow, only warmer."
"Where else did you go?" he asked, completely absorbed in his blue-haired friend words.
Kai described as much as he could remember; the tall buildings in New York, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, pyramids in South America, castles in England and Norway.
It was all so new to Tala. He would have never imagined all the things hidden beyond the horizon.
"Where did you go?"
"Huh?" he blinked at the question.
"On vacation, where did you go?"
He bit his lower lip.
"I...I've never been anywhere."
"Oh...well...it wasn't really *that* nice. And...and...," Kai tried to make the redhead feel better.
"It's okay."
An arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Returning it, Tala smiled at the young bluenette.
"Besides, it's better to be here with you."
Kai smiled back before a mischievous gleam glittered in his eyes. Tala was caught off guard when a handful of snow was suddenly shoved in his face. Yelping at the sudden cold, he jumped back, glaring at the laughing bluenette.
"I'm going to get you for that!"
"You have to catch me first!" Kai shouted, jumping to his feet and running across the roof to the open window. Behind him he heard Tala shout out another threat before the red-head's footsteps followed, chasing his friend back into the dark towers of the Abbey.
*~*~*~end flashback~*~*~*
Opening his eyes, Kai smiled through the pain at the memory.
'What I would give just to see you again, Tala.'
The water around him was tinged pink with blood. Sighing, he looked up at the clock mounted on the wall. More than half an hour had passed and Margaret hadn't returned yet. He felt a surge of concern flow through him but then calmed himself; Voltaire would be very busy with that phone call. Margaret was probably cleaning more than she had told him.
Still, he was getting tired of sitting in the water. Rising, dried himself off, which was rather hard since any form of movement stretched the welts and cuts. He stopped as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Towel forgotten, he stepped closer, studying the somber teen in the mirror.
His face paint had long been gone. The fire in his eyes had been smothered when Dranzer had been struck. His wild bangs hung limply before them. Voltaire had been right when he said that he had grown thinner; his already slender body having lost more flesh. It wouldn't be long before he could see his ribs clearly. And then there were the marks; blue, red, purple, black; all of them contrasting starkly with his pale skin.
Disgusted, he looked away, grabbing the bathrobe left by Margaret. The soft material felt coarse against his burning skin but he shrugged it on anyways, tying the belt tighter than necessary.
'How much longer? How much more can I take? How much more can he give?'
The last was obvious; a lot.
The brightness of the room was irritating him. Not knowing what he was doing, he walked over to the door and turned the handle only to remember what Margaret had said about staying put. However, to his surprise, the door opened easily. He thought that she had locked it. Opening it further, he hesitated before stepping out into the hall; the first time he had been able to go somewhere on his own since his abduction.
The first thing that came to mind was escape. No one was around and he was no longer confined.
He snorted.
'Right, like that bastard would just leave the front door open.'
Next to the many locks, bolts and chains that were no doubt attached to every door, window and any other exit in the mansion, if he *did* manage to get outside, what then? They were in the middle of no where with nothing but tall mountains and freezing temperature. Without his wounds he may have been able to make it but he didn't stand a chance in his condition.
'And I can't leave Margaret with him.'
Every and any thing that could stop him did. It would be very dumb to risk an escape and more beatings.
Planning on simply returning to his room, he started down the hall but stopped, turning around for some reason. Nothing was behind him with exception of more doors. And the end of the hall...
The carpet completely muted his steps as he walked, eyes fixed on the tall double doors at the end.
Light from the hall filtered into the room as he pushed the heavy doors open, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark. With the darkness, a strong odor struck him making him take a few steps back, shaking his head to try and clear the smell but it refused to go away. A feeling of uncertain dread swept through his mind but he pushed it away.
Called by something unknown, he slipped inside, closing the doors, shutting off the source of light, plunging the large chamber back into musty blackness.
Without really thinking, he reached out to the left, and found the light switch he knew was there.
Lit, the room was grand; soft carpet, sweeping drapes, immense bed; exactly like in his dreams, memories and nightmares.
His parents' room. The room that had witness love and hate, laugher and tears, comfort and pain. Like his former sleeping quarters, this one had been left in the exact state it had been that night years ago. Everything still laid where they had been left or thrown; his mother's purse still on her nightstand, his father's jacket still hanging over the chair. It was as if they were still in there, living.
Taking small steps, he moved more to the center, eyes studying everything at once only to fall on the bed. The sheets were neatly made but two lumps beneath it looked out of place; something was hiding beneath the silky cloth.
Ignoring the voice in his head that told him to turn around, he moved closer, feeling a strong yet frightening pull.
The distance between him and the bed was soon covered and he found himself standing right next to it, looking down on the clothed objects with some trepidation; what were they? Why did they draw him yet push him away at the same time?
"Kai?"
He heard Margaret opened the bathroom door down the hall but couldn't answer. Instead he lifted a hand and slowly took hold of the corner of the sheet.
"Kai! Where are you?!" Her voice sounded panicky yet distant.
The air around felt thick and he could hear the slightest breeze, eyes only on the bed and its contents.
"Oh God..." she said, no doubt having guessed where he was. He could hear her running, desperately shouting his name, calling him back. But he couldn't do what she begged him.
Gripping the material tighter, he inhaled deeply, the offensive smell as strong as ever.
"No Kai!! Don't!!"
Ignoring the pains and her cries, he kept his eyes on the nearest of the two forms beneath the sheet...
...and pulled the cloth off.
Behind him the door slammed open, echoing loudly through the large hall. Margaret's breath was heavy and she continued to call him.
And he didn't hear anything.
He couldn't hear anything.
All he could do was stare.
Stare at the empty sockets of the grey skull. Stare at the aged bones that were partially hidden by a floral dress. Stare at the ring that was still around a fleshless finger.
A wedding ring.
His mother's wedding ring.
His mother's dress.
His mother's skull.
"Kai..."
Next to the rotten skeleton of his mother was another, larger one, still dressed in long pants and a long, black coat that had shielded him and his mother many times during the cold and the rain. A watch, Rolex, still clung to a bony wrist.
All that remained of Sergey Hiwatari.
His parents.
Their decayed skeletons.
Laid out on their bed in mock peace.
Pinned on a pillow between them was a note, written in Russian; Rot in Peace.
Nausea crashed down upon him and falling to his knees, he began to throw up the little contents in his stomach. Tears poured from his clenched eyes and he sobbed in between vomiting, the sight and smell ravaging his senses.
And, somehow, amidst all of that, he started to scream. Scream in despair and anger and fear, cursing Voltaire off the face of this earth and begging God to end this.
"What did I do?!? WHAT DID *I* EVER DO?!?!" he shouted, clenching his fist as he shouted into space.
"Kai, please--" Margaret tried to get him to his feet but he didn't cooperate.
"KILL ME!! DAMN YOU, WHY DON'T YOU KILL ME TOO!!"
"Don't say that--"
"I HAVE NOTHING!! I LOST EVERYTHING THAT HAD EVER MEANT SOMETHING TO ME!!"
Margaret began to cry, unable to cope with the anguish in his voice.
"I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!! NOTHING MATTERS!!! I..." He suddenly slumped forward, feeling weak and light headed.
"I..." he said again, in a hoarse voice, the taste of bile still in his mouth, "I'm too tired...I'm too tired of hurting. I'm too tired of being afraid. I'm too tired of everything..."
Too numb to move, Margaret watched with tearful eyes as he reached out to touch the stiff fabric of his mother's dress, staring at the person he had last seen years ago, alive and frightened as she had tried to save the both of them from the tyrant of the house.
"Let me be with them. Please, I just want to be with them..."
"You can't..."
"They were so strong...and they died so soon." He stared with haunted eyes at his mother's boned face, picturing how beautiful it had been when she was alive. "I am a weakling... and I'm still alive. It's not fair...It's not fair..."
She couldn't think of any thing to say to that so she sat down beside him, placing a hand on a robed shoulder.
"I'm so tired, Margaret…I can't fight him anymore…"
Many minutes passed and the two remained silent; Kai staring at his parents skeletal remains, Margaret staring at her young master, racking her brain for something to say, to assure him, but the weigh of the despair settled on her, suffocating her.
"A lovely family reunion, I see."
She jumped up and turned, glaring at the smug expression on Voltaire's face from where he stood in the doorway.
"Are you going to do anything about it, *whore*?" he spat at her. "It's your own negligence that allowed him the chance to discover them. I had kept this a secret for all these years from him. If anything you've done more damage than I for letting him see this."
Margaret felt her heart clench at the truth behind the words; had she returned in time Kai would never have wandered in here.
"Get our baggage ready, whore; we will be leaving soon."
She didn't move, not wanting to leave him alone with Kai.
Having no doubt foreseen her possible disobedience, he drew a gun out of his coat and aimed it, not at her, but at the teen that still kneeled next to the bed, too gone to pay attention to the happenings behind him.
"As much as I would love to claim the boy when he is mourning, we have no time. He will be safe, for now. Follow my orders unless you want me to complete the family morgue."
Looking back at Kai, she dried her tears and nodded numbly. What else could she do? With a parting prayer to the boy, she slowly walked out, nervously passing the master of the house but he didn't do anything, eyes fixed on his grandson.
Once she was gone he moved, coming to stand next to where Kai still knelt next to the bed. The elder tsk-tsk'ed as he stared down with twisted pride at what used to be his daughter-in-law and son.
"Ever wondered why the court was never able to sentence me after they suspected me to be their killer? Their bodies were never found."
Kai didn't respond, his hand hesitantly touching the remains of his mother's own, running the tips of his finger over the golden charm bracelet that once chimed as she moved, now silent where it still clung on her wrist, resting on the sheets.
"Your father was rather disappointing, though I never expected much from him. A single bullet to his spine had immobilized where he had been walking to the car. I let him writhe in agony for many minutes. He finally stopped moving, though his eyes had remained on me, glaring as blood dribbled from his mouth. I would have delayed his much deserved death, but it was rather cold outside, so I emptied two rounds in both eyes."
The words rang through his ears, echoing over and over as the vision formed in his mind; his father lying in a pool of his own blood in the driveway, freezing to death, the last thing he saw his own father's smirking leer.
Subconsciously, he started to hum softly, to himself. Something, anything that could remind him of the two people he had loved so much when his days had been bright. The song was something his mother had invented just for him, a tune she would soothe him with. How he wished she was the one singing it now.
Voltaire grinned when he heard the lullaby.
"She used to sing so well, didn't she? Her voice certainly wasn't as graceful when I had my hands wrapped around her throat. She had cried like an injured bitch. Crying for you, coming to think of it. A quick twist of my wrists and her neck had snapped cleanly."
He didn't stop humming, rocking gently; something his mother used to do while she had held him. Raising a hand, he tried to touch a high cheekbone but a coarse hand grabbed his and he was roughly yanked to his feet.
"But enough pleasantries, there is much to do."
Kai didn't respond, eyes fixed on the piles of bones. His hand gripped his mother's wrist, feeling the coldness of the bracelet.
It was hopeless…
"I said come here, boy."
Nothing was worth fighting for…
"Kai," Voltaire snapped, losing patience.
It was time to accept…
Voltaire was about to physically haul the boy away when Kai stood slowly. A few seconds passed as the boy kept staring at the corpses before he turned to face his grandfather. There was nothing. The phoenix's face had always been indifferent, but now so were his eyes. There wasn't any anger or despair, pain or suffering, lost or defeat. Simply…blank.
"Good boy."
He had finally committed the perfect crime;
Without any evidence or weapon, he had killed another soul.
tbc..............
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