Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the man seen someone he didn't know. No, he didn't recognize the man he seen staring back at him at all. He seen death, horror, all the bad things that plagued his existence with hate and fear. People didn't like Joe. People didn't trust Joe. No, they didn't. And it was because of the horrible things he's done. Because they were scared of him. of what he was capable of doing to them with little thought on how he was going to do it.
He wasn't always that hated, dangerous man. He wasn't always feared. Once, he was a newborn baby boy. Crying, helpless and alone. Abandoned by his mother at birth, the little baby didn't have anyone there for him. In fact, his mother left him. Pamela George, a cocaine addicted woman of only 23 left her son to the strangers of the hospital in which he was born in on that sunny, more than perfect day. The agony in that was disaterous. Almost as disaterous as her son's life thanks to her faithful decision to shield him from the life his father molded for them before their son was born. Drugs did things to people, changed them into monsters that nobody wanted to love or wanted to be around. Monsters like Phillip Kyndel? They didn't deserve children and Pamela knew that. That's why she took it upon herself to leave her son in the hands of someone else. So he wouldn't be dragged into a life of addiction and danger. She wanted her boy to grow up loved and good but that was her mistake. She left behind one thing for him though; a teddy bear. A teddy bear and a photo of his father before he was dragged into the land of snorting and drug raids. Pamela died not long after her son was rushed into an incubator where they tried to help him breathe. She left her son with an addiction to the drug his mother so relentlessly persued thanks to his father. She ran off to a better place and left him alone in a cold breathing chamber, crying and unloved.
The nurses felt bad for the newly born orphan boy so, they banded together and settled on a name. Joseph. They also pulled his middle name from the photo they found in the pants pocket of the dead mother's things. Phillip. Then, the doctor who delivered Joseph was informed of the boy's new orphancy and made the decision to adopt him himself. Of course, him and his wife would be delighted to have a son even though she was to have a baby here soon anyways. What's one more? The more the merrier. And so, Joseph Phillip Drake was once again a normal little boy.
But that wouldn't last long.
It was just after his first birthday, maybe a week or two after the small party his parents threw him at the church Mrs. Janet Drake always went to while her husband William went to work at the hospital. It was a noble job, saving lives. One Joe never thought about taking up. How could he? He was only one year old when they died in the seats right in front of him. He was facing backwards in his carseat, blabbering and chewing on his tiny shoe like little one year olds do as his father drove and his mother sang to him playfully.
"Little Joey~, my sweet little boy. Little Joey~, you have angels in the sky. My darling Joey~, nevr forget that I love you and you have my heart~."
Janet was eight months pregnant with who would be Joseph's new little sister if that truck didn't slam right into the driver's side of the Drake's small Subarban. William was crushed by the impact the t-bone to his side of the car, bones cracking and glass penetrating his skin. Janet slammed her head against the car door, glass also burying itself in her but she died thanks to the blow to the head. Little Joseph had cuts and such but his car seat took most of the movement and damage. The ambulance took his parents away in body bags, patching his cuts and stitching the deep ones. Once again, the people who cared about him ran away. The went somewhere better and left him behind. How dare they.
He remembers being five years old, sitting in his bed at the orphanage that took him in after that accident. He recalled taking to his service dog, Sarge about the new people who wanted to adopt him before Peter walked in. See, Peter Wilkins was a boy who lived in the orphanage too. His mom died a year ago thanks to a sickness and he was taking here. Joe was thankful for Peter, for his friendship. The boys got along cause they both lost their moms. Joe didn't know his was dead, he only knew that se gave him away and that hurt the young boy so bad. But Peter made it better. Peter was th eonly one who made it better except for Sarge. You see, nobody wanted Joe. He was too mean, too aggressive for them so, he was never adopted fully. People came in, seen him, talked to him and when he would do nothing but speak the truth, they'd leave and never come back for him. He came to the conculsion that nobody wanted him. He was nobody special, just the son of a nobody and a drug lord who knew nothing of his existence and vise versa. Was it better that way? Maybe, maybe not. But, one day, Peter was approved for an adoption. A nice little couple by the names of Louise and Dennis Manning filled out Peter's paperwork and got it all set up to take him home as their son. But, there was one problem. Peter wouldn't leave without Joseph. That didn't stop the Manning's though.
