I rushed home, feeling as if I were a disgusting monster. Sure, I'd killed before. It wasn't easy, but over time I had gotten used to it.
This time though, things had been different.
This time I'd known was doing wrong. I had killed an innocent man in the name of saving my own hide.
I entered, but as Watts greeted me excitedly, I felt as if I were unworthy of such affection. Funny how changing just one thing can change everything.
I picked up the tail wagging beagle and headed to my room, feeling uneasy.
Was I a bad person?
After sitting down on the carpeted floor, I grabbed a box that I'd kept beside my bed. From this I took out a smaller package.
I might not have been able to see my mother much but the several drawings she sent me made it feel as she were there. I could just pick up a picture and imagine for a few minutes that we were at home, drinking tea and playing chess.
From the old box, I pulled out a few of her newest works. The first depicted a frozen tundra. I shivered as I saw the barren landscape.
I squinted at the background. If I looked closer, I could see a figure, a boy in fact, jumping out of a plane... without a parachute.
The boy looked exactly like me.
This must be my mother's nightmare.
"Your mother has quite a talent."
"And my father has forgotten how to knock." I smirked for a moment, but it disappeared and was replaced with sadness as soon as I remembered what I did. I looked down at the drawing.
"What's troubling you?" He sat down in my bed next to me. I bit my lip and stroked Watts' fur in thought. I sighed before answering with a soft voice, feeling small all of a sudden.
"I was walking when I got attacked by a pack of dogs."
"Did they bite you?' My father said, frowning in concern.
"No. I used my power to hit them with a garbage can."
"You're upset over killing the dogs? I know Watts means a lot to you, but your well-being is far more important."
"No, the dogs were fine. I scared them off. It's just... There was this guy. He jumped out of nowhere and shielded me from them."
I was silent for a second before continuing, "He told me to run. He only had a stick but chose to help me anyway... I didn't understand. He saw me using my powers." My voice cracked.
Father looked at me, worried.
"That's all?" He asked me. I turned my head away as my face scrunched up in an effort to stop the tears from overflowing.
"I- I stabbed him in the heart after the dogs left."
As per your instructions. I thought bitterly.
I don't cry much. I just didn't. The rational part of me would always tell me there's no point. But after I had just stabbed a man that had saved me from being dog meat... After I, someone with power, had hurt an innocent... After I had in my own way become what I'd despised for so long...
The tears flowed freely.
Dude, this sucks. We fucking killed someone who hadn't done a thing, Rebellion said.
Cynicism had nothing witty to say for once. He just kept staring at a wall.
Optimism cried even more than usual. That was quite the miracle.
And Logic...
I- it wasn't supposed to go this way! Why did that guy have to open his eyes again. He wasn't supposed to see! I've miscalculated... I've failed.
He dropped to his knees and stared at the ground.
Is this what being a murderer feels like? He said.
"You did what needed to be done." My father told me with a hand on my shoulder.
"But-"
"What would have happened if you had let him go? He'd have reported you and soon, your face would have been everywhere. Your so-called friends would have turned you in without hesitation."
I stopped crying and dried up my eyes. "You're telling the truth."
"This was going to happen eventually. You did nothing wrong."
"He hadn't done anything. God, I feel terrible." I say.
"No, but he could have. And that's what matters."
Killing for what he could have done?
"Still though, he saved me."
"He only helped. You would've done fine without his assistance."
"Even so, it still feels wrong and unfair. He had a life, a family." I said.
"And so do you. It was either you or him and you chose correctly. You're right, it isn't fair. But until the day comes that you can practice your mutation openly, this is the way of the world."
"Thanks." I sat up straight again and tried to calm down. I looked at the drawings that were still in my hands. Tears had fallen on them, wetting the paper. Father glanced at them and gave me a pat on the back before standing up.
"I suppose you're not in the mind to train today."
"No. I'd like to train." I said, looking up at him.
A man lost his life because I had to ensure my own. Let's make that sacrifice count. I thought.
But if I kill too many innocents how will I ever balance it out?
Is that another reason why father's so set on furthering his cause? He's invested so much time and energy into the Brotherhood that he can't do anything else? He must've done things he hates to get this far. I know he's not a psychopath. How long was it until he was fine with killing innocents when need be? And when will that happen to me?
Would it be a good thing? Do good ends justify otherwise horrific means?
Another surprising thought occurred to me.
My father would trust me with his life work?
I hadn't even thought about that.