Bloodshed

02. McCaul Street

Chapter 2

McCaul Street

The wind howls, and hail drums on the windows with no mercy for the ones who are asleep. Letting out yet another deep sigh, I turn in bed.

     The scene from earlier today repeats itself in my head every time I close my eyes. I shouldn't have concentrated on the amount of red mixing itself with the freshly fallen rain. The colour reminds me of too much, but only one memory that still haunts me again and again. The way my parents were laying on the kitchen floor, their limbs sprayed out, and their eyes still wide open.

     The people who were lucky enough to grow up in a normal, healthy environment aren't thankful enough, and yet, I do pity them. When they leave their childhood house and go in the big world, they don't know even the smallest danger that awaits them. It's like sending unprepared soldiers to battle. Many survive, though, which can't be said from my collogues. It surprises me till this day that I'm still breathing. I did earn myself many scars in cruel ways, but I'm still here. And I intend to stay here.

     When the falling of the hail finally lessens, I decide I've tried long enough to sleep. A rosy hue is already across the sky as I curl my fingers around the hot cup of tea that I quickly prepared. The hot substance doesn't bother me when I take a sip earlier than other humans would. I breathe in and out deeply, enjoying the minty smell in the air, coming from the tea.

     Even that reminds me of Jil, and I almost scowl, hating to see her in front of my eyes again. She hates tea, and that's why I was never allowed to drink it back at The Hole Of The Vipers. Jil drank–and probably still does–whiskey. Even in the morning. And yet, she never got drunk enough to lose a fight. She'd never let her guard down like that. She was the Chief of The Hole Of The Vipers, after all. There were always assassins ready to sneak up behind your back and try to put a bullet through your head. If they weren't so frightened of her, they might've killed her many, many years ago. Thanks to that fear, she now is a record setter. No other chief has ruled the Vipers as long as her.

     Of course, I was never allowed to have any kind of alcoholic substance. So, coffee it was.

     I had to be strong and awake.

     I had to be an assassin.

     And they tried to make me one–really tried. But I like to believe they never succeeded in truly making me one. Yes, I have the fighting skills, the knowledge of the best ways of killing humans, and the ability to survive through the hardest situations. But assassins are required to kill in order to really become one, and since I fled, I'm no real assassin.

     Next to that, I am a real Viper. That can't be denied.

     I don't mind that I can't kill a person–or won't kill one. That showed me a path that lead to this calm life. It opened a whole new world for me, and a normal one. Ignoring the fact that I've witnessed a murder just today, everything in my life is normal now. Francis, the lazy cat; Morgana, my girlfriend who doesn't even suspect a thing about my past; my friends; high school; our apartment; and overall just Toronto. Our apartment isn't big at all, but it's perfect. It's filled with paintings and drawings of Mor. They make me love this place of ours even more.

     In general, I just love the life I have here.

     And that's why I'm so afraid of losing it.

     An arm curls around my waist, and I almost flinch away, the ways of The Hole Of The Vipers remain unforgotten. A smile appears on my lips, and, for just a moment, all the worries of Jil and her Vipers melt away. I forget them.