The Sins of Duke Evander (BOOK III)

Chapter 9- The Perfect Proposal

TRIGGER WARNING:

THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE, DEATH, VIOLENCE/MURDER, SELF HARM, AND MORE. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION OR SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER IF YOU HAVE TROUBLE WITH THESE THINGS.

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Growing up there wasn't much I ever dared to ask for, despite having everything that a boy could ever dream of, I had nothing, absolutely nothing.

From the love of my parents to simple friends to play with, to go to school or the park, or to even sit down and have a meal with someone. I never got any of that, and unless I wanted a good beating, I never dared to ask for it either.

I was as silent as the dead night, not a peep was ever heard from me, I never talked unless spoken to, and I never looked up into the eyes of another human being.

In all my life, before their death, I only shared five whole sentences with my father, each conversation lasted barely a minute.

"How did you do?"

"I got the highest grade possible,"

"Good, I expect the same results next year,"

And that conversation was repeated five times until his demise.

Clyde was the only person that ever stood by me. As I ate, he would pour me a glass of water, when I slept, he would pull my blanket up, and when I worked, he would light incense and bring me tea to help me concentrate.

And when I watched my parents get murdered right in front of me, he helped me bear the weight of the heavy burden until it disappeared.

"You... are not a normal child," The murderer stated, blood-coated knife in his hand as he stood in front of me, face covered with a mask.

"...No, I'm not,"

With the back of my hand, I wiped my father's blood off my cheek, staring at the red liquid before looking towards the dead man himself.

Raising a hand, I pointed at the woman lying on the ground beside him, the one that gave birth to me, but never let me call her mother.

"That thing..." I said as the man followed my pointed finger. "It's alive... You didn't kill her properly. See... she is still moving... Even I could do a better job than that,"

The man scoffed, in a trance as he stared at me, eyes filled with doubt of the kind of being that I was, but I was used to those eyes. I wasn't good at reading people's faces, but that look was one that I received so often that it became second nature, I felt that gaze without even looking.

"Then, how about you finish the job?" 

I wasn't expecting to hear that, but when I looked away from the injured woman, and towards him, he had outstretched the very knife that murdered my father, and was now, going to murder my mother.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame... You seem like you are holding a grudge against this woman, therefore, it may be best that you are the one to send her off to hell,"

"I... do not know how to hold a grudge,"

"A grudge isn't something your hands hold, but rather your heart, and the deeper ones, your soul... But I am presuming that you know how to hold a knife, at least,"