Thaddeus

Chapter Three

Brooklyn was left breathing heavily outside of Alastor's door. She knew her nephew had fire, but hadn't taken the time to actually understand the concept. That boy looked so much like his grandfather, it scared her. She took a moment before heading across the way into her room but stopped. She'd noticed more people had entered the house, she'd been too lost in thought to notice her aunt was here, and with suitcases.

Not only that, but her little cousins were also with her. Brooklyn's aunt, Kathryn, had two small children, Henry and Chloe. Kathryn and Zagen were pretty different in age, after all, Zagen had two kids who had kids of their own while Kathryn had two little children, it was slightly weird, but Brooklyn hadn't paid attention to that, she loved kids, especially her cousins.

Finding the house to be too loud, Brooklyn went downstairs, hoping to take a breather outside when Zagen stopped her short. "Are you pestering Alastor? He's my guest." He glared into his daughter's eyes only to be met with instant fury. "I was just trying to find out why he's here, that's it." Brooklyn replied, trying to steady herself. "Isn't it obvious?" Zagen raised his head up a little. "Your worthless brother couldn't handle his son, so the boy came to me."

Brooklyn grumbled as she turned to head for the door, right at that moment, a young males voice shouted from the basement. Yes, a basement. "What's going on up there!?" The voice yelled as whoever was behind it marched up some stairs, soon reaching a door located behind the staircase leading to the bedrooms.

Brooklyn went pale in the face, she knew exactly who this was. Speaking of, the man behind the voice spoke once more as he left the basement, swinging himself around to get a look at Zagen. "Seriously, it sounds like a warzone- Oh, you gotta be kidding me." The boy huffed the moment he laid eyes on Brooklyn, who just stared open-mouthed at him.

"Thaddeus?" Brooklyn questioned, and the boy hummed as he replied, "yeah, hi, Mom." Brooklyn couldn't believe this was her son, he looked so..different from the last time she'd seen him. Brooklyn was frozen, but finally, she managed to say something. "The last time I saw you...you were-" Thaddeus interrupted her pretty much immediately, "twelve and in a straight jacket."

Brooklyn sighed silently, he was right. All Brooklyn could do was stare her eldest child up and down. He looked like, well, hell. He'd grown a little from when he was a child, but didn't reach Brooklyn's height, perhaps maybe Alastor's considering they were both the same age. His cheeks were weirdly, unhealthy sunken, as if he hadn't been eating much. His skin was pale, his hands looked..burnt. The ends of his finger tips looked almost scarred from fire, which sent chills down Brooklyn's spine. His hair looked almost the same though, still ginger and curly, short too. His attire was odd since Zagen seemed to have a higher taste in clothes, black jean jacket, dirty white shirt underneath, blue jeans and sneakers. "Are you just gonna stare at me for all eternity?" Thaddeus glared daggers into Brooklyn's face. "I'm just-" Brooklyn stammered, "I'm just so surprised to see you here." She finally spit out while Thaddeus loudly scoffed, taking a few steps forward.

 "Of course you are! You think I should still be rotting in that hellhole, don't you?" He practically growled, the ends of his fingers beginning to spark up, which set Brooklyn back a little. "Hellhole? It was a hospital, it was supposed to help you!" Brooklyn sighed out. Zagen in all this just stood still, watching the mother and son. Thaddeus only seemed to get more anger, little flames were erupting from his hands. "Help me? No, no, they tortured me. All they did was throw me in a padded room, assign me some dumbass therapist who, by the way, makes you feel shittier about yourself!"

Thaddeus was almost nose-to-nose with Brooklyn, his face showing nothing but pure hatred. The little flames grew bigger and bigger, making Brooklyn's body warm up. "Thaddeus, I-" Brooklyn was interrupted, again. "Where were you? Huh?! You told me you'd visit me, or check up on me, but no." He brought one of his hands up, the other calmed, as fire crackled and burned on. Brooklyn opened her mouth, but her son spoke first. "I waited three fucking years for you and all you did was abandon me!"

Brooklyn's eyes were wide now, her breathing only got heavier and heavier. She glanced at her father, as if quietly begging for help, but was only met by a wicked smirk. He loved the fact his grandson was so angry, he knew he could use it. Suddenly, Thaddeus shoved Brooklyn towards the door, which he forced open by sending a massive wave of heat towards the old thing. The door swung, and the second it did, Thaddeus pushed Brooklyn outside, burning her chest a little. She winced as Thaddeus began yelling. "Stay the hell out of my life, it's what you wanted, right!?" As he shouted, Brooklyn fumbled for her truck keys in her coat pockets while she speed walked toward her car. She could still hear Thaddeus screaming. "COME BACK AND I SWEAR I'LL BURN YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT! YOU WANT TO BE GONE!? STAY THAT WAY!"

The door to the house slammed shut as Brooklyn had just managed to climb into her truck. She was shaking as she started the car, she almost wasn't able to. She knew she couldn't leave, but also knew full well she couldn't stay here. So she began driving to the nearest motel. By the time she reached a crappy looking lot, she was still trembling. Brooklyn had been scared by fire before, however this time, it had been at the hands of her own son. Thaddeus had looked ready to kill.

Brooklyn just sat in her truck, even after she'd shut the engine off. All she could think of was Thaddeus's rage, his anger. He was violent before, even as a kid, but nothing that severe. Brooklyn, before she knew it, had fallen asleep a few minutes later, drifting off. Sleep seemed to be the only time she could ever have peace anymore. 

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Okay, yes, I know I keep dragging a few things on, I promise I'm working on my writing skills. I have a hard time separating things, I don't know why I do.