The Jones family drove through the city in the limo, quiet as a grave, allowing the engine's roar to fill the silence. Daniel laid his head on his mother’s shoulder as tears flowed down his face, staring out with blood-red eyes. Subconsciously, like all adults, he knew neither his father nor his mother would live forever. But after years of accepting the inevitable, he finally learned how unprepared he was. Knowing that Jack was dead was many thousands of times worse than every other pain Daniel had endured in his life combined.

  They soon arrived at the old Jones family home. And as they entered, Daniel staggered up the stairs, leaning from left to right as he went to his childhood room.

  Sandra forced her mouth to open. “Sweetie, I—“

  As he reached his room, Daniel slammed the door behind him.

  ***

  Daniel looked around his old room, teary-eyed. It was like the room was forever trapped in the era of his childhood. He immediately recognized several of his old possessions scattered around its space. And visions of the past appeared before Daniel at every corner.

  To his left were aged, crumbling cards that his elder sister and he would play with.

  "Charity," Daniel thought.

  To his right were the comic books that he would read with his younger brother.

  "Benjamin."

  Directly before him were the journals he would store his raw creative ideas in that he would only share with his mother.

  "Ma."

  The images of the past appeared before Daniel, almost taunting him with happier days, but one soon caught his attention. By his closet, Jack, muscular and Caucasian, sat with his boyhood self as they joyfully read a book together.

  "Pop."

  Daniel walked over, taking out the same book.

  "The trial of the steel champion. We used to read this thing so many times. He always had something nice to say."

  Daniel took a deep breath before opening his book. It was a series that he had created during his childhood. It told the story of a knightly hero, the steel champion, who fought monstrous evil. Eventually, his greatest enemy, a demon, cast a terrible curse upon him. The hero would be trapped forever in a nightmarish cycle, enduring hellish torment. But even as the creature appeared before him one night in his bedroom to taunt him, he refused to despair. As Daniel finished his book, he walked over to the window, staring out, ruminating over the last words.

  “My purpose in this world is noble and just. So, even if I must fight until the end of time, I will never give up.” Daniel knocked his head against the glass. “I can't believe I made such a tragedy."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  ***

  Night came, but Daniel still looked out the window with his eyes baggy and red. Quickly, his grief-stricken mind formed another memory, taking shape on the front porch.

  Six years ago, in the early morning. He had recently returned from a job with his gang. No one was killed, but the victims still lost much. Daniel aided in robbing them of money, a sense of security, the ability to eat solid food for several months, and more.

  Daniel walked to his house, yawning, but he spotted Jack sitting on the porch. There was no telling how long he sat there. So Daniel’s features hardened, knowing to expect a passionate reprimand. As he approached Jack with a heavy breath.

  “Let me guess. You're wondering why I'm coming in so late?” Daniel asked with a sigh.

  “No, I’m wondering why you do these things. Your mother and I raised you better than this. Is hurting people truly all you want to do with your life?”

  Daniel looked at Jack, fuming. His breathing intensified, building pressure like a steam engine exploding in a scream. “Pop, a cruel world calls for harsh measures."

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

  Daniel knew too well what he was saying. He was aware that the things he did were wrong, perhaps evil. But morality was something only those like his brother and sister could afford. For him, walking the path of righteousness meant pain. The young man’s pride would never let him admit it, but he was afraid. He didn’t know why, but he struggled in everything that didn’t involve writing or fighting. All roads to respect, except the one that led to bloodshed, were closed.

  Daniel shot a glare at Jack. “We’re at war, Pop.”

  “Don’t preach war to me, boy.” Jack rushed to Daniel, inches from his face, grabbing his collar. “You have no idea of its true horror and desolation.”

  “But I do. I know what people are, Pop. I know what kind of world we’re living in.”

  “Please see things my way.” Jack released Daniel.

  Daniel pushed his father away. ”You want me to be honorable? Be a giver, a doormat? Accept my place as a loser?”

  “Don’t twist my words,” Jack shouted.

  “I’m just a man telling the truth.”

  “You are no man.” Jack forcibly poked Daniel in the shoulder. “You’re nothing but a greedy, cruel boy.”

  “And you’re an old man and a fool,” Daniel screamed.

  A silence fell over Daniel and Jack as the words left the boy’s mouth. Daniel had no idea how much poison they contained until it was too late. His mouth opened again, instinctively going to apologize, readying to say he didn’t mean it. But he bit his tongue, wanting to convince his father and himself of his resoluteness.

  Jack took a deep breath. "D—do you truly believe what you are saying?"

  Daniel nodded.

  Jack placed his hand over his face. "Look, son, I know you think there's no hope in the world, but forces are fighting against that."

  "Let me guess, God?" Daniel rolled his eyes.

  "Yes, him and...never mind."

  Daniel hurried to the front door as he grew tired of talking, but as he was about to open it, he looked back at Jack. Again, instinctively, his body urged him to apologize. Still, stubbornly, pridefully, Daniel refused. He wouldn’t be a boy, constantly second-guessing, crying to his father for forgiveness. So, he took a deep breath, continuing quickly inside.

  In the present, Daniel watched his memories, knocking his head on the window repeatedly. But Sandra peeked into the room from the door. As he heard the creaking of its hinges, Daniel subconsciously glanced toward it. And he finally stopped hurting himself as he saw her worried look.

  Sandra took a deep breath, approaching him. "I'm so sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For putting you through this, sweetie. You see, the plan was—"

  "Ma, can you just tell me one thing?"

  "Of course."

  "How bad was I?"

  "You...made your mistakes."

  As Daniel heard Sandra, he began slamming his head against the window again, but she quickly stopped him with a hug.

  "I would take back every cent I got from that gang if it would bring him back," Daniel sobbed. "You know that, right, Ma?"

  "Of course I do."

  Sandra hugged Daniel tighter, and he reciprocated.