❝ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴅᴇᴘʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ's ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴀs ᴀ ʜᴏʟᴇ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴄᴀɴ ғɪʟʟ❞
~~~
🇭 🇺 🇳 🇹 🇪 🇷 :
My feet hit the tar with a loud thud, and I close my eyes and hold my breath as if that will make me invisible to Tony's eye.
When I'm sure no one had heard my escape, I lift each foot and wiggle my ankles side to side to feel for any injuries. I may have trained in the base jumping art a little over a year ago last, but I don't think I'm that rusty. Besides, the roof isn't that high from the ground. No damage was bound to happen either way.
When I'm certain there's no damage, I take off in the direction of the back of Taylors Manor. Deep into the thickly woven forest sits a wooden mansion, almost identical to the one at the front of the property. The abandoned shelter meant for weapons and important documents that are forbidden to leave the grounds.
Back when things were good and well between dad and Elijah, they'd built this company from the ground up. An assassin company that dad had told us about. What he didn't tell us was how deep all of it went. All of us, except Tony, of course.
All of it started with Dad wanting to pull young people off the street to avoid the rise of drug use among the youth, but it quickly escalated to greed and power.
What started as self-defense and discipline classes turned to who could train a child to become the strongest of the strong. The most ruthless killer of all. The most heartless. It became a sick game to them. An insatiable hunger for power.
Turning innocent children into ruthless killers never sat right with me. That's why I chose to ignore that side of my life as much as I could. And sometimes, it became impossible to ignore. Seeing my dad be proud of someone who wasn't me or Theo. His own flesh and blood. It made me so angry that I would give into his sick ways and do as he's told me to, train to become what he's always wanted me to become.
A heartless machine.
And I think that's why dad hated me most of all. He wanted me to be how he knew I could be, but I never gave in. I never fell victim to his ways even when he punished me for disobeying.
Even when he threatened to punish Theo for my behavior, I refused to let him win.
And when he tried to make me jealous by parading Kazimir as his new prized possession, I still refused to let him win. Because he was a manipulative bastard who refused to see things that weren't built to please him.
And I hate myself for loving him through all of it.
The mahogany door creaks as I push it further open. Someone's been here. I want to think it's Tony, but my gut tells me something completely different. I ignore the feeling for now and make my way up the stairs and to the room Tony told me where to look for files on Elijah.
"Go during the day. I'm convinced there's some creepy shit that goes down there at night." Is what he'd said. Did I listen? No. I never listen to him, and I know he knows I don't.
Besides, I would've gone earlier, but an angel asked me to watch the sunset with her. How could I ever refuse. I think she's warming up to me. That thought sends a giddy feeling through my veins and a wide smile to spread on my lips.
My thoughts of Gaby are interrupted by a floorboard shifting under weight. Or it could be the house settling, but I'm not quite sure which. I hold my breath and let my hearing focus. I have never been good at taking in my surroundings by using my hearing alone, but what's the harm in trying now?
And sure enough, my hearing fails me when I'm only able to hear the faint sound of birds chirping and wind against a window. I really suck at this.
My feet move me in the direction of the last room. My hand finds the cool glass door knob and twists. And my mind wanders back to younger us. Young Theo and I. Young Tony, Josie, Luka, and Jason. We were children, no older than ten—fifteen for Tony. Children. And yet, we had to train to become assassins. Killing machines.
We would fetch weapons that had caught our eye from this house and trained to master it. Pistols, blades, crossbows, bow and arrow, snipers— you name it, we had it.
God forbid we messed up. If we were to injure ourselves in any way, we are forbidden to cry. Crying is for the weak. We are meant to be the strongest of the strong and nothing less.
A sigh parts my lips as my eyes scan the near empty room. Old boxes sit in random corners, decorated with dust and cobwebs. My fingers run along them as I walk the length of the room, taking in the smell of decades old dust and memories I wish I could've long forgotten.
Going through all these boxes might take a while. Thankfully, tomorrow is only Saturday.
YOU ARE READING
The Heart Wants What It Wants
Teen Fiction❝ She wanted a fresh start, He wanted normalcy, But their past had other plans. ❞ ~~~ For the majority of her life, Gabriella had to endure all the things a child should never have to experience. After nearly two years of planning to start afresh...
