Word of Honor

Chapter Two: Demise

I stroll in the depths of daytime, heading towards home.

'What's going on?! STOP! Stop hurting her!' my left ear gives the impression of being out of order and I frown.

A distinct, high-pitched whimpering sound appears, as though murmuring and muttering words I do not catch. Wincing a little, I clear my throat to hide the embarrassment from strangers' glares crossing the street as well.

'And why do you care?' another voice emerges from my right ear. I raise my hand to massage it from the slightly stinging pain.

'I would never tolerate someone who is cruel enough to hurt a child. I forbid you to hurt her anymore.' the left side speaks while stomping their feet in anger, sounding specifically virtuous.

'Oh, and it's none of your business.' the right side's voice is ferocious, savage, and brutal in particular.

In no time, a slapping sound advances.

'I told you to quit...' It does not sound like the man was slapped, no other than the hopeless, sobbing child.

'Listen, I don't need you interfering. Discipline is an essential lesson to brats.'

Yet another punch echoes, coming from the right hand side.

'You should sort out who's the brat here, but self-abuse isn't allowed.' the left side said quietly.

Continuing punches, kicks, slaps, and cries are reflected by sound.

'FIGHT LIKE A MAN!'

'STOP IT!'

The cries went over their voices. Most appalling of all, some rummaging through one's pockets rises, and a totally unexpected gunshot thunders the ground and reverberates, though the cries and laughter did not stop.

A thud echoes, and what sounds as though a corpse had fallen.

I cover my mouth in deafening shock.

Hearing voices is certainly not a good sign, thus I never told anyone about these violent flashes of sounds. I assume no one would believe a thirteen year old hearing vicious voices.

I distract myself into regulating my attention on the beauty of the pathway.

The view was practically the same, birds chirping while trees went along with their rhythm to the wind. People are being summoned back home for dinner, this is happening to me as well. Wind was pricking as it swift between the tip of my ears and my eyes fought through small strands of hair blocking the sight.

I commence to rummage through my bag for my warm and comfortable cardigan. The warmth cannot get any better as I put them on. I shiver with the corner of my mouth widening. I was not cold, the shivering is caused by high euphoria.

When I'm at the door, I went up to the mailbox to pick up the mail. It is an oddly satisfying routine to do everyday. I can see the textured white paint, and whenever I unlock the cover, it is always pleasing for me.

What? I did not see my older brother's mail in the stacks, it ought to be there. It has always been there.

Mom was not anxious about my brother's leaving, she changed her mind no more than a few weeks afterwards.

'I wanted to make sure that you are safe periodically, so sending us whether it's a letter, or just an object is required.' Mom said to him.

He promised to follow her instructions through the phone, with a voice of humor, pretending to be a butler.