(TW : This chapter has some gory scenes, and may trigger you)
Elijah
It's been a few days since Rhea left, and it feels strange. I wasn't attached to her or anything emotional like it, but I got somewhat used to the hazel eyes smiling at Nala every time she passed her.
Or the frown her face reflected as soon as her gaze fell on me.
It felt natural to me for an uncomfortable reason.
Regardless of the now empty space it once originally was, I have things to do, and it does not include thinking of a woman who is a queen full of inexperience.
Returning to my bedroom, I hastily look for my training gear. I figured I'd train with Dal at the center today, and continue with my target studying later.
My eyes slide over to my closed closet.
I open the door, and a knock sounds. I look up into the closet and see a tan cardboard box, leaning against the door. I sigh, looking down, immediately spotting my duffel bag filled with weapons, spare clothes, and hand wrap.
Grabbing my duffel bag I set it down on my bed, hearing shuffling against the closet door behind me.
Returning to the dim space, I hold the sliding door in place, pushing the box back up. Unfortunately, I have no luck.
Irritated, I decided to pull the box down completely.
I look into the box and see her stuff.
Two handmade charm bracelets with smiley faces, hearts, and bright colors all around. One was hers, one was mine. She made one for herself, Dal, and me.
Dal still wears his daily. He used to be teased by the rest of the recruits for having such a girly bracelet around his wrist, but he never cared.
I tried wearing mine, but it was a reminder of what I never want to be reminded of.
Her.
I look over at her sneakers filled with her drawings, and bored moments. Sneakers once covered in crimson blood.
An old silver camera decorated with cute stickers and gems.
Four small but thick journals filled with slightly messy handwriting styled in different color pens. Every discovery, every thought, every slight mission she went on.
Four of her favorite torn books, books she found thrown away from the previous owners.
A wrapped up collection of dull daggers she trained with, hardly ever an official mission.
A small square book of stickers.
Two hair clips, with a few strands of curly blonde hair sticking out of the coil.
A green fuzzy blanket she slept with every night.
An eleven year old girl, who should be seventeen now. A girl with poofy curly blonde hair, and deep blue eyes mirroring mine.
A girl, an orphan, and most of all, my darling little sister.
Flashback - Elijah (14 years old)
I swear Kinsley does whatever she wants. I try to reason with her, but she never listens, it's frustrating how alike we are.
I'm dealing with myself at this point. Even Dal tries, but he laughs at me, thinking it's funny, always saying "Now you know how I feel."
"Kins, please just listen, you aren't ready for this kind of mission yet. We shouldn't even have to do this," I explain to my little sister.
"It's not fair Eli! I should be able to go with you guys, I'm stuck here training constantly! Jab this! Jab that! Elbow higher! Shift your wrist!" She nags.
"Those remarks are exactly why you aren't ready," I insist.
"I'm not a little girl anymore! You're only three years older than me! I should be able to fight Alongside you!"
I sigh, rubbing my forehead, "Kins, it's not just fighting! It isn't just a dummy body standing still while you jab a dagger into it, this is real people fighting you back, people who will not hold back from killing you."
"Elijah's right Kins, your brother had to save me a few times, or else I wouldn't be here," Dal interjects.
Kinsley's face morphs into confusion, "But you almost always beat Eli on the training grounds."
"For some stupid reason, your brother holds back."
"I'd hurt you if I really tried," I sigh.
Dal laughs, "I know, that's why I take advantage of beating you."
I look back at my little sister, with an attitude of ruling the world. "Kins, one day we won't go on missions at all, and we'll live in a pretty house, maybe we can even get a big dog like you always wanted. But for now, please stay safe, listen to me, and when I get back, I can coach you on some new techniques, how about that?" I ask.
Her fair face with slight freckles scrunches into a smile, "You promise?"
"I promise," I agree, holding my arms out.
Immediately she runs into them, squeezing my rib cage.
A muffled voice sounds, "I want a black Labrador. Like the one that one lady had, and I want to name her Nala." I grin, "Nala?"
"Yup, It's a pretty name, and I'll make her a charm collar."
I laugh, "Okay, Nala it is."
I look down at my charm bracelet she made me, as it clings to my wrist. It has a single cubicle E in the middle, with multiple hearts, stars, and smiley face charms surrounding it.
"Can I be a part of that future?" I hear Dal ask.
Kinsley doesn't hesitate, "Always!"
She holds out her right arm, while Dal joins our hug.
Present day - Elijah
I don't know how that day turned into something different. I just care that, that was our last hug, our last conversation, my last glimpse of her breathing, because the next time I saw her, she wasn't breathing.
She wasn't smiling, she wasn't laughing, she wasn't telling me about her future dog, or future dreams.
She wasn't anything.
She was still, and unmoving. She was dripping in blood, she was cold, and she was pale. So so pale.
Her skin was tattooed in bruises, shaped as fingers around her wrists, around her throat.
She was just dead, so so dead.
A little girl so dented in death, a little girl with a shitty gamble of life. A little girl I couldn't get to in time.
So no. I don't care about the lives I take. I don't care about the families I ruin, because they never cared about mine. They never cared about who they took sweet little Kins from.
Nobody cared that an eleven year old orphan girl had dreams and hopes and two brothers. That was who Dal and I were to her. No matter if Dal wasn't blood, he was family.
I raised that little girl, and she was taken from me.
So, again, no. I don't give a shit who is in front of me, bleeding out. Begging for mercy, at my will. Nobody seemed to care when she was begging for mercy, calling my name to save her.
I don't care how terrified my victims seem when I smile in front of their eyes, hoping I ruin whoever they love.
They chose that life.
They chose to kill innocent people, so why can't I return the favor? Why is that so wrong? What is the matter with justice? Who cares if it's different?
They took my family, my sister, and practically my daughter.
A boy at five years old taking care of a two year old girl. Two orphans, who were abandoned too young, and a teenager boy abandoned once again at the will of killers.
Flashback- Elijah (14 years old)
"That was rough," Dal sighs, airing his sweat soaked shirt out against himself. "I know, and I still have to train Kins right now," I reply, wiping sweat off the back of my neck.
I pull my daggers out and wash the blood off in the common bathroom sink. "I can't believe we still deal with this. It's been years, and we're still here, doing their dirty work," I complain.
Dal sighs, "We knew it would be like this."
I shake my head, "I don't want this for Kinsley, I don't want her being almost mauled to death, because I can't get her out of here in time."
Dal nods, "I know, but what are we going to do? We're only fourteen, and we don't exactly live in an orphanage anymore, we can't just leave. We still have trackers in us."
I shrug, "I don't know but I have to figure it out soon, she'll get real missions in two years, when she's thirteen, and I do not want her stabbing people, or being stabbed herself."
I wipe the now clean but wet daggers with a dry paper towel, and walk out of the bathroom.
I check the common bedrooms, our bedroom. We share it with other kids. It's like the orphanage, but instead we train to injure bad people, and never get a break.
The food sucks too, I guess that isn't much of a change from my former home.
Kins isn't here.
I walk over to the training grounds, and yet again no Kinsley.
Too tired to walk around the big unit, I ask a few kids who usually train with Kinsley.
"Kinsley? Oh, she left a bit ago, she said something about a new clue in her mission," the kid says.
My eyebrows furrow, "Mission?"
"Yeah, I don't know that's what she said," he says, turning back to his friends.
What mission? She's not old enough. How could Mr. Miller give her a mission at eleven years old?
I jog down to Mr. Miller's office, and abruptly open his door without knocking.
"Have some manners, boy. You knock first and wait for approval to come in," Mr. Miller hisses.
"Did you give my sister a mission?" I question, shouting.
"Are you a fool? Coming in here, raising your voice at me? You must be a damn jackass," he insinuated.
"Yes or no? Kinsley Anton, did you give her a mission? Did you give an eleven year old a mission?" I scream.
"Do you want another beating, boy? I thought you weren't fond of whips, apparently I was wrong."
"I don't give a shit!" I yell. "Watch that mouth, you demon child!"
I walk up to him, holding a clean dagger to his cheek, "Answer the question. Is my sister out there with those murderers?" I yell.
His eyes widen, "Kinsley Anton, is not out there, and is not on a damn mission, you know the protocol, thirteen and up. You, however, are crying yourself to sleep tonight," he coldly states, clasping his hand around my wrist, bending it backwards.
I cry out in pain, as my dagger slips from my fingers.
I kick him in his stomach, running out of his office, and into the common bedrooms.
I run to Kinsley's bed, picking up her mattress with a groan of pain.
I see her newer journal and grab it, letting her mattress fall.
Flipping the pages quickly, waiting for her newest journal entry.
I find it, looking at the date, November 11, 2017.
I skim through the paragraphs, while my eyes widen in fear. She's decided to spy on the M.A. building. The official M.A. building, filled with murderers, rapists, and traffickers.
I quickly shut her journal, throwing it under the mattress.
I run out of the building, using memory to find my way to the M.A. headquarters.
After a ten minute race to the building, I see the familiar tall cement walls.
Air whips against my cheeks, and body, while my calves ache in pain, and my feet stay numb, moving on their own.
Fear sits in my stomach, threatening to come out through my mouth.
Tears fly against my cheeks, while terrible images flash through my mind.
Go away. Go away.
Kins will be fine.
She is strong.
She's just as stubborn as you. She's got an attitude twice as big as mine.
She's alive.
Nobody has harmed her.
All of my thoughts go away, and my heart stops when I hear a scream.
A high pitched, and horrifying scream.
A deathly scream.
The same scream that wakes me up in the middle of the night, when a certain curly headed girl gets a nightmare.
My little sisters scream.
Unbelievably, I somehow pick up my pace, even faster than I was before. I don't know the twists and turns I've made, but somehow and thankfully I'm closer, and now in a tunnel.
I hear her continuous screaming and shouting.
I follow the screams as best as I can.
"Help! Eli! Please! Someone! Anyone!" I hear.
Tears stream down my cheeks, my mouth, my chin, and my neck.
I'm coming. I promise I'll save you.
I'm almost there, fight them off a bit longer! Please!
Another scream sounds a yard away from me, echoing through the tunnel.
My feet splashes dirty water and leaves at the back of my legs, while I run towards her voice.
A scream sounds, this time, it abruptly stops.
No.
Please.
I'm here! Please be alive! I'm here!
I've found you.
I see a tall figure, dressed in black, leaning over a body on the murky ground.
No.
No.
Please tell me you're playing dead.
Please tell me you remembered the techniques I've taught you.
I run after the guy, while he takes off into the other direction. As I pass the body I stop abruptly, almost falling face flat into the puddle.
I kneel down to her. Shaking her shoulders.
"Kins?"
"Kins? I'm here! I heard you! I found you! You're alright now!" I slightly shout, cupping her cheek.
"He's gone now, Kins. He can't hurt you, I'll make sure of it."
She isn't responding.
Why isn't she responding?
My vision becomes just as murky as the water next to me.
Kins wake up.
I wipe my eyes. Looking at my hand, I see blood.
Terror pulls me into its cage.
I look down at her.
She's covered in blood. She's got bruises, and scratches. Slashes cover her shoulders, and legs.
Deep cuts, soon to be scars, if only she was breathing.
Her freckles dipped in red death. Her neck, no longer fair, but blue and purple.
"Kinsley? Wake up," I beg, as realization kicks in.
No. My sister is not dead.
She is not gone.
"Kinsley Anton wake up right now!"
Please no.
I hear someone screaming, screaming in pure agony.
I realize the scream is coming from me. It's my throat that's hurting. It's me, who has droplets falling from my eyes and into my mouth, as I rock myself back and forth.
Somehow, she ended up in my lap, as I held her head to my shoulder, while tears cascaded down my face.
My fingers gently hold the back of her head, while her fuzzy blonde curls become stained in crimson.
Her sneakers dripping with blood, covering her art.
Her bracelet soaked in gore.
Her clothes clinging to her bloody body.
I sit there for hours, with no care in the world, no care for being on M.A. grounds.
Sitting there, with bloody hands, a bloody face, and a bloody body. Her head lays on my lap, while my hand holds her cold, bloody hand.
Nobody came.
Just one person.
I hear footsteps.
My once alerted self, disintegrated. Still, I sit there.
If my death has come, I will not fight.
Instead, I see Dal.
He immediately flinches, gasping, a need to breathe.
He doubles over, clutching his heart, while tears drip off his chin.
"Oh my god," he gasps.
Slowly he walks over to me, staring at me, analyzing me.
"Elijah, we've got to go, someone needs to- to," he flinches, "to bury her.
I shake my head, feeling numb.
"She's okay, I've got her," I whisper.
Dal shakes his head, " No, we've got to get her out of here."
Stiffly, I shake my head again, "She's alright Dal, I got to her."
Dal nods, "Okay. Alright well that's good that you got to her, but we've got to let her sleep now, she's tired," he says, trying to pry my hand off of hers.
"No, she can't leave me. I won't leave her."
"Elijah, she's dea- resting, it's our job to make sure she rests."
I feel nothing, nothing but dried tears, a pain in my heart, numbing denial.
Nothing goes through my head but flashing memories. Memories I think are locked away now. I can't think of her anymore, I can't make anymore memories with her.
Where'd my sister go?
Why is she leaving me?
Why is everyone leaving me?
I see a figure walking away from me, carrying something.
Someone.
"Don't leave me!" I yell, as fear creeps in.
I stumble, leaning against a wall, such a cold wall.
Using the wall for support I tremble towards the person walking away from me.
I blink, and realize I'm outside.
I thought I was in a tunnel.
I must have been wrong.
Wind swirls around me, the coldness I should feel is no longer there.
Suddenly, I'm in front of dirt.
A girl lies in a big hole. She looks really familiar.
My vision is blurry, so so blurry.
It's watery.
Like everything I look at is soaked with the ocean.
A boy my age has a shovel, putting extra dirt onto the girl.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
He looks at me, "It's alright, Elijah, just sit down."
"No, what are you doing? She won't be able to breathe! What are you doing?" I shout, grabbing the shovel from him.
I throw the shovel to the side, jumping into the hole, scraping the dirt away, until I see a bloody face. A very bloody face, with bloody hair, and bloody limbs.
It's my sister.
My very bloody little sister.
It's Kinsley.
My Kins.
Hands buckle under my arms, pulling me away from her. Taking me away from my little sister.
"Get off me!" I shout.
They pull me out of the hole, laying me on the ground.
"She'll die! She'll die if you bury her!" I shout.
"Elijah, she's dead!" The boy snaps, as a tear trickles down his cheek.
Every memory, every unwanted feeling, every realization, every familiar face floods back to me. Denial vanishes, and I meet someone named reality. They introduce themselves to me, giving me a handshake and a pat on the back.
Reality asks me if we can be friends.
But this isn't a friend.
This is a murderer.
__________________
Uh hi!
How are you?
How are we feeling about the chapter?
It's definitely dark, but I wanted to show why Elijah is the way he is, and his history when he was younger, and just a teen.
It shaped him to how he is now, how he thinks, and feels.
This chapter is a little longer than the rest, but I felt it was needed, since I've been vague on Elijah's past.
I hope you enjoyed, or at least enjoyed knowing more to the story.
Love you all! I'll see you next chapter! :)
-hc <3