Marlowe's Massacre | ;

CHAPTER 11

Once the kids were safe, one by one the government questioned them and they all told the truth twelve different ways. How a man named Immanuel trained them for WWIII, a war he thought would take place in France and that taking them was his way of telling God the twelve disciples who learned from Jesus were now reborn into the children. And while they were in his possession, Immanuel did not only breed the boys with tactical skills, he breeded them with hatred and filled them up with faith. A dark mirage that would forever circulate through their body as long as he controlled them. As long as he continuously raped them, abused them but most importantly, loved them with the same passion God loved each of his creations.

And when André turned the frail page, he seen all the schoolboys involved in the incident. He seen each and every single one of their faces and how one stood out the most. A boy who looked identical to Raymond just as Mr. Richard found him in his suite.

"Andréw." He whispered low, turning the boy toward him before bending down to level with his face. "You must stay calm." He said, taking the newspaper out of his small grip. "Listen, you have to—"

"No!" André yelled and coincidently Mr. Richard had been the first witness to see André's eyes turn to the color of Death. They were no longer brown or held a glow. They had been tuned to the frequency of stygian. A color that represented the day Andrè left the estate and since, hadn't been back.

A day that eroded his thoughts as he looked at Raymond in the hospital's bed. A young man with a past so brutal Andrè refused to tell anyone of this truth. The truth as to why The Richards went to France during the summers and why one day they brought a French boy on American soil, into their estate and told him to call it home. Breathing heavily, Andrè took a cigarette from behind his ear and moved toward the room's door. "Where are you going?" Max asked.

"To smoke, I can't keep still, you know I can't." He said and Max only hummed before getting up and walking with André outside. Lighting the cigarette, he leaned his head against the cemented wall of the alleyway.

"He doesn't drink." Max said calmly, biting his nail. "So, how can he have alcohol poisoning if he doesn't fucking drink?" He asked and André wanted to applaud him for staying so well-mannered. Maxwell had been skilled at hiding his emotions that it scared André because he never knew when the unorthodox Max would break through the cracks.

"I don't know, but when doctors do tests they don't just do it one time. They do it multiple times before telling the patient. If he does have it, the tests are fucking bullshiting or it's right, Maxwell."

Sighing, he turned toward André. "Dad is on his way here. He'll be coming later on." He revealed. "You haven't seen him in years, at least be some type of happy when he arrives."

"Yeah." He could only say because André knew the tension would be high. Flicking the cigarette onto the ground he looked into on-coming traffic before James brutally appeared in his vision getting out of a silver-colored car. Max had spotted it too. James and Teddy walking toward the automatic doors. "Fuck."

~~~

"Why is she with you?" André questioned as Teddy and James made their way over to the corner of the hospital.

Glaring at André, Teddy answered. "I gave him a ride."

"Beautiful!" André bashed. "You've done your daily civil duty as a citizen of United States, you can leave now."