Creak.
The front door groaned open, and I stepped inside. "Sigh, finally home," I muttered. Middle school was over; my real job, caring for my two younger brothers, began now.
I dropped my backpack, shed my shoes and sweater, and walked into the living room. Ryan, nine, and Kyle, six, emerged from their play, their eyes lighting up.
"Kevin!" they shouted, rushing to hug me.
I opened my arms, embracing them. "What'd you guys do without me?" I asked with a smile.
As they chattered, I began tidying the living room. An hour slipped by. Then, with the room clean, I steered them towards their bedroom. "Time for bed," I told them.
"Okay," they both agreed, scrambling onto their beds.
I nodded, moving to the bookshelf. I picked out a new book, pulled up a chair, and sat beside them. With a smile, I began.
"Once upon a time," I said, my voice fading into the story.
An Hour Later
"Whew, finally asleep," I murmured, the words exhaled with a quiet weariness that belied my age. I carefully placed the worn storybook back on the shelf, its adventures temporarily set aside. With a soft click, I eased the bedroom door shut, leaving my brothers to the peace of slumber.
I scanned the small apartment, a quick, practiced sweep for any lingering messes. A sigh of relief escaped me. "Nothing else to clean," I mumbled, the quiet statement a small victory in my often-chaotic day. I headed for the living room, collapsing onto the sofa with a grateful groan. My phone felt heavy but familiar in my hand as I unlocked it, the screen's glow a welcome distraction. I tapped open a game, the familiar sounds a momentary escape.
Our two-bedroom apartment, a cramped space in a city that felt vast and indifferent, was barely held together by my mother's single income. My father had died five years ago in a car accident, a drunk driver's reckless act stealing him away, leaving behind a chasm no one could truly fill. Since then, I had stepped into the void, an unchosen guardian for my younger brothers.
Creak.
The faint sound of the front door opening signaled her return. Sarah, my mother, walked in, her shoulders slumped, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She was a mother of three, a warrior against the relentless tide of bills and responsibilities. Her gaze swept over the small living room, landing on me, phone in hand. Her weariness instantly curdled into anger.
She moved towards me, her voice sharp, cutting through the quiet. "Kevin, what are you doing? Stop playing games. You should be studying."
I remained calm, a practiced mask of composure. "I'm just playing for a bit, I'll study later."
Her frown deepened, a familiar shadow crossing her features. "Kevin, put down your phone and go study. Do you want to end up like me, working like a slave?"
The words struck me, a raw nerve exposed. Something inside me snapped. Years of bottled-up stress, of suppressed anger and resentment, erupted.
"Shut up!" I roared, the sudden volume of my voice shocking even myself. "Do you think I don't live like a slave right now? I go to school for seven hours every day, and the moment I come back, I have to clean this house, then take Kyle and Ryan to bed, then I have to study! And even during the weekends, I don't get a break! I always have to watch them while you go to your job. Do you think my life is different from yours? I have it worse than you! I'm a full-time babysitter without a break!" I wanted to lash out further, to unleash every bitter thought, but the sight of her stopped me cold.
Sarah had started crying. Tears streamed down her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. I gritted my teeth, my gaze fixed on the wall, unable to meet her eyes. In the heat of the moment, I had said too much, said the unforgivable. A wave of guilt washed over me, mirroring the guilt that etched itself onto her own face. We both felt it—me for inflicting such pain, her for the unbearable weight she had placed on her child.
"I-I'm sorry," we both whispered, the words tumbling out simultaneously.
Our eyes met, raw and vulnerable. Sarah moved first, her arms wrapping around me in a tight, desperate hug. I reciprocated, burying my face in her shoulder, the embrace conveying all the words that had been left unsaid, all the burdens we shared. It felt like hours, a silent communion of pain and unspoken love, before we finally separated.
"I'll go to sleep first," she said softly, her voice hoarse. "I have work in the morning."
I nodded, watching her walk away, her figure disappearing into her bedroom. I sank back onto the couch, the silence now heavy with our shared confession.
I thought of the past, the gaping hole my father's death had left. Five years ago, a drunk driver, who had walked away unscathed, had stolen his life. My mother, once a stay-at-home mom, had been forced back into the workforce, scrambling to keep us afloat. Both my parents had been orphans, leaving no extended family to shoulder the load, forcing me, the oldest, to grow up too fast.
I had taken it upon myself to protect my siblings, to fill the void. But in my struggles, in the relentless grind, I had lost sight of my purpose. Why did I work so hard? Why did I shoulder these responsibilities? Why did I study until my eyes ached?
Suddenly, it was clear again. There was only one reason: to make my family happy. I wanted to succeed, to earn enough to buy a big house, a safe haven where no one would ever have to cry from pain or worry again. With my ambition reignited, my resolve hardened, I finally got up and walked to my own bed, ready to face tomorrow.
KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK.
My eyes snapped open. The insistent rapping echoed through the quiet apartment, pulling me from a fragile sleep. Groggy and disoriented, I stumbled out of bed and padded towards the front door. Through the peephole, two figures in dark blue uniforms stood waiting. Police officers.
I slowly unlatched the door, opening it just a crack. "Can I help you?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.
The officers exchanged a quick, silent glance before turning back to me. "Uh, kid, is there an adult here?" one asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
"No, the only adult is my mother," I replied, a slight frown creasing my brow. "But she's currently at work. She should be back any minute."
The officers looked at each other once more, a shared, heavy sigh passing between them. Their eyes winced, then filled with a profound sorrow as they met my gaze again. One of them, a broad-shouldered man, slowly knelt, bringing himself to my eye level. He took a long, shaky breath.
"I-I have some bad news, kid," he said, his voice quiet.
My throat tightened. A cold dread seeped into me, making me gulp. "W-what is it?" I managed to ask, the words barely a whisper.
The officer took another deep, fortifying breath, his gaze unwavering. "Kid... your mother was in an accident. And she didn't survive."
I stood there, frozen. The words hung in the air, foreign and incomprehensible. My mind grappled with them, struggling to piece together their meaning. Accident... didn't survive... As clarity, cold and sharp, finally kicked in, tears slowly, silently began to slide down my cheeks. Yet, my face remained almost neutral, a mask of disbelief and shock.
"Kevin, what happened?" Ryan's small voice suddenly spoke from behind me, followed by the soft padding of Kyle's bare feet.
I flinched, the sound of my brothers tearing me from the abyss. I immediately wiped my tears with the back of my hand, scrubbing them away with a fierce urgency. I turned, forcing a smile, the best I could muster—a fragile, trembling imitation of happiness. I walked towards them, my arms opening wide, pulling both Ryan and Kyle into a tight, desperate hug, trying to shield them from the unthinkable truth that had just fractured their world.
The Orphanage
After that night, my brothers, Ryan and Kyle, were adopted first. I was glad they'd have a better life, even if it meant I wouldn't be with them. And just like that, I stayed in the orphanage for the next four years.
Life in the orphanage was tough for me. As the oldest, I was burdened with endless chores and the constant care of the younger children. The people in charge were money-hungry, exploiting our situation for their own gain. The day I turned 18, I knew I was destined for the streets. Caring for the children had consumed my time, leaving no opportunity to find a job.
As I packed my meager belongings, I wanted to say goodbye to the kids. I stood and headed toward the playground. Suddenly, I stopped, hearing voices. It was the orphanage matron and another person.
"Matron, are you sure about this? This man is a certified pedophile," the other voice whispered, laced with a hint of unease.
My blood ran cold. What could they be talking about?
"It doesn't matter," the matron's voice cut through the air, cold and calculating. "He can do whatever he wants with Emily. He agreed to buy her for $10,000 because she's useless anyway."
I clenched my fists, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. I'd kill them, I thought, a surge of raw fury coursing through me. No, I calmed myself. No, they'd die together. My eyes, now glinting with a cold, terrifying resolve, narrowed.
I walked past the matron and the employee, their conversation oblivious to my presence, and stepped outside. Seeing the children playing, a faint sense of calm washed over me, and I managed a weak smile. When they saw me, they rushed over, their small faces beaming.
"Kevin, let's play a game!" they shouted, jumping around me with infectious energy.
"Okay, what do you guys want to play?" I asked, my voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside me.
"We want to play—"
Five Hours Later
I stood near the orphanage, keeping watch for the man. Darkness had already fallen. The thought of calling the police crossed my mind, but I didn't have a phone. Leaving was not an option; I couldn't risk missing his arrival.
As I contemplated my next move, a car pulled into the orphanage driveway. My hand instinctively went to the knife I'd stolen from the kitchen, gripping it tightly before concealing it beneath my shirt.
I slipped into the orphanage, my gaze fixed on the entrance. If the person he took wasn't Emily, he would live. But if it was her, he would die.
The moment I saw Emily, her tiny hand clutched in the man's, walking out, I stepped forward, blocking their path. The matron and the employee, standing behind the open door, looked on in confusion.
"Kevin, I'm getting adopted!" Emily announced, her voice filled with childish innocence.
I forced a smile. "Oh really? But I'm going to be sad that I can't visit you anymore."
"Oh," she said, her excitement fading.
"Oh, I got it! Let's play one more game before you have to leave," I said, my voice gentle.
The adults exchanged bewildered glances.
"Yay! What game?" she asked, her eyes lighting up again.
"Okay, close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you to. Make sure you cover your ears too, or else you lose," I instructed, my smile unwavering.
She giggled and nodded, dutifully covering her eyes and ears.
As her eyes closed, my smile vanished. I took a step forward. The man looked confused, but before he could react, I swiftly pulled out my knife and plunged it into his neck. His eyes widened in shock as his body slumped, blood spraying across my face and clothes.
A wave of nausea washed over me, but I fought it down. Two more to go. My head snapped towards the matron and the employee. They screamed and bolted back into the orphanage. I pursued them, finding the employee first. She tried to run, but I lunged, tackling her to the ground before slitting her throat.
Slowly, I rose, scanning the room for the matron. I found her in her office, frantically rummaging through her desk drawers. I advanced slowly, each step deliberate, as she looked up, her face contorted with fear.
Suddenly, a slow, chilling smile spread across her face. Her hand emerged from the drawer, clutching a gun.
"You bastard! I'll kill you today!" she shrieked, pulling the trigger.
Boom!
The bullet ripped into my abdomen. She should have aimed for the head, I thought, even as a searing pain shot through me. Without a second thought, I lunged. But before I could reach her, she began firing continuously.
Each shot felt like a burning metal rod piercing my flesh. I gritted my teeth, sheer will keeping me on my feet, forcing me forward. She kept pulling the trigger, but the gun only clicked; she was out of bullets. As she realized I was still advancing, she freaked out, frantically rummaging through her drawers again.
Her whole body trembled. I couldn't risk any more surprises. With all my remaining strength, I lunged, plunging the knife deep into her throat.
Blood sprayed as she stumbled backward before collapsing. Staring at her lifeless body, I knew I didn't have much time left. I stumbled to the phone on her desk and dialed.
Beep beep beep…
"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher's voice crackled through the receiver.
"538 Forest Light Street, the orphanage," I rasped, coughing as blood trickled from my mouth.
My grip loosened, and the phone clattered to the floor.
"Hello? What's happening? Please tell me what's happening!" the dispatcher pleaded, her voice urgent.
I couldn't answer. My time was running out. With sheer force of will, I pushed myself back to my feet and stumbled outside to Emily. She was still standing there, eyes closed, ears covered. I walked over to her and spoke, my voice weak.
"The game's not done yet, don't open your eyes," I whispered.
"Okay, I'll win!" she said excitedly, a cute smile gracing her lips. I gently picked her up and carried her back into the orphanage.
"Hey, there's warm water!" she exclaimed.
"Yup, I just took a bath, so there's still water," I managed, my voice strained.
As I reached the door to the children's dormitory, I opened it and gently placed her down.
"Okay, just sit down here. In a bit, some kind adults will come and give you your rewards," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Okay!" she chirped, her eyes still closed, full of innocent anticipation.
I looked around and saw a few children stirring, woken by the commotion. I paused.
"Guys, don't look at it! It's my secret costume for Halloween. If you see it, you can't get candy," I said quickly.
They gasped and then covered their eyes, burying their faces back into their pillows. I smiled faintly, then stood again and left the dormitory.
I coughed, more blood spewing from my mouth. Leaning against the door, I slowly slid to the floor. As I sat there, my back pressed against the wood, my life flashed before my eyes: Ryan, Kyle… I wanted to see them again.
"I-is this how I die?" I muttered weakly.
Slowly, my vision began to dim, my senses fading until, finally, everything went dark.
Note: if you guys like it then ask for more. also when making chapters it will probably take more time since im gonna try to add more detail to character development.