Her Villian

SEVENTEEN

Jackson

I knew I was walking a fine line with Amara in telling her my story. However, I felt as if I could trust her. She is innocent and empathetic. She would never use sensitive information against someone. No matter how much she hated them.

I felt a small pang in my chest because soon, this beautiful human would indeed hate me once she found out she was just a ploy in my sadistic game. For a moment I found myself longing for a time where maybe I was different. Maybe I would have never lived through the tragedies of my past that made me into a villain, the one where Amara met me first. And one where I was a good guy who could give her the world. But that wasn't in this lifetime for us. In this lifetime I would be the villain in her story. One who comes and takes what she holds dearest away from her. One who will no doubt star in her every nightmare from here on out. Usually, that thought for anyone else would please and excite me, but for her, that thought haunted me.

"I grew up fairly normal. My father was a real estate agent, my mother worked from home for a good business. I have never seen anyone who loved each other more than I saw my parents love each other. Even after four kids, they were still just in love as the day they met. I came first, a year later my brother came, I suppose he was a handful enough because my parents waited a whole 3 years before having my sister. I am 25, my brother Marcus is 24, and Emily is 21. We grew up incredibly close, always fighting, but close, nonetheless." I take a shallow breath as I turn to look at those brown eyes for the first time since I've started my story. She stared at me as if she was taking in every single syllable I was speaking. I had never been listened to like this. If I was not sitting down already, I probably would have taken a step back. However, I turned back to the glowing sunset orange that plastered the sky and continued the story.

"I would go as far to say things were as perfect as they could get until my father brought a client home so he could give them some paperwork he had left at the house. Now I will warn you, the next part isn't pretty. The guy ended up being a fucking low-life. We weren't rich, but we had some nice things. He ended up stealing some of my mom's jewels, a vase, and some clothes. One being a shirt with my dad's last name on the back. The bastard wore that shirt when he decided to show up at a playground and attempt a kidnapping on a 4-year-old girl. Luckily her mother noticed and when he saw he was gaining attention, he ran. Since he was fully covered the park cameras only picked up the last name on his shirt. The guy had around the same build as my dad as well and when they asked the little girl to point out which one did it in the lineup, she pointed at my dad." I shook my head at the memory. I remember everything from that day. The authorities looked at him as if he was scum on the bottom of their fucking shoes.

Amara said nothing as she put a gentle hand on my shoulder. A silent gesture of support. That raised a small smile from me, but I quickly let it fall as I continued.

"Long story short, he was sent to prison, once the inmates got word on why he was in, 4 of them ganged up on him and killed him. The last time I saw him was when he was behind bars, he looked broken. He had sent Mom one letter. One where he apologized for getting himself wrapped up in that guy, and one where he begged her to find love again, a part of me always thought he knew he would die in there. He wasn't a guy that was made for prison anyways." I readjusted myself on the blanket.

"With my dad gone, Mom was left to take up another job. It was close by, so she walked to and from. She was a shell of a human after his death. I would catch her crying in her room when she thought us kids were asleep. Trying to muffle her sobs with a pillow, a blanket, or even his clothes. However, she tried to be there for me and my siblings. Word spread quickly and soon the whole neighborhood knew of my dad's supposed crimes. When Mom wouldn't utter a bad thing about him it did not take long for everyone to shun us. One night, while she was walking home from work, one of those cruel bastards got ahold of her in an alleyway. They brutally murdered her and left her on the cold ground. Police knew who she was, and knew Dad widowed her, so they didn't even try to investigate. Her case was never solved. After, all of us kids moved in with our grandmother, she was crueler. Never gave us attention, never cooked a meal. I took it upon myself to raise Marcus and Emily. Especially Emily. She was so young, but yet so broken. School wasn't easy either. All three of us had to face the wrath of other students, and teachers did little to nothing to stop it."

What I left out was due to circumstances I grew a hatred for this place. Wanted to take revenge, wanted to watch everyone who played a part in my parent's killings take their last breath by my hands. Wanted everyone to know that my father wasn't some sick bastard. Their blood was on the city's hands. It wasn't long after Mom's death I found myself in some sort of cult. They were secluded and lived by their own rules. I could respect that in ways. I was intrigued by the mystery of it all. Little did I know they only used me as a pawn for some stupid ritual they were performing. Wanted to sacrifice an evil spirit. I guess they assumed because of my father's crimes, I was somewhat guilty of holding evil as well. One thing they got right was that I was evil. But my father had no part in that.

That night when they shoved me into the fire, I could have sworn I would be dead. But the fire didn't burn. Instead, it felt electrifying. Instead of running from my new power, I embraced it. I loved it. When the flames died down, I rose from the ashes and burnt them all to the ground with a flick of my hand. All I saw was rage. Rage from the parents that had been stolen from me. Rage from these people who I trusted and respected only for them to attempt to kill me. Once I scanned their burnt bodies lying across the ground, I knew then that I would use this new gift to take revenge. To make everyone who ever crossed me, or my siblings again pay for it in the worst of ways. I also vowed never to let myself love again, I saw how broken my mother was after my dad left, and I felt the pain I had once they both died. I knew from then that love wasn't good. That love made you weak. I would never be weak again.

They painted our family out to be cruel and made us the villain in their story.

So, I became the fucking villain.