Not the Same

Thomas

Connor’s POV

            The shock of finding out who The Boss is was still hard to process. My brain short-circuited leaving me blindly staring at him feeling completely dumbfounded. The sound of Gabe gasping for air from his crying snapped me out of my state of shock. Looking at him, I saw that he was finally calming down. I look at Ricky and he had the same look of befuddlement as me.

            “Mr. Rog….” Ricky utters.

            “Okay, first,” Mr. Rogers says. “I hate going by that stupid name. Call me Boss.”

            “But, that’s your name,” I say.

            “And that my boy is where you are wrong,” The Boss said. “My name actually is Vincent Newman.”

            “So why do you go by Mr. Rogers,” Ricky asks.

            “Because it is the name of the man I killed, so I could take his place,” The Boss says as he pulls a picture out and shows it to Ricky.

            Ricky looks at the picture and then back at The Boss. “But, you look just like Mr. Rogers in this photo,” Ricky says.

            “I do, I…..Oh wait, I forgot,” The Boss says.

            The Boss feels around on his neck until he stops until he finds what he was looking for. Slowly, he starts to remove the skin from his face. We see that he was wearing a mask the entire time. Underneath the mask, I saw that he had scars and bruises that looked unhealable. He looked nothing like Mr. Rogers. "Why'd you do all this? How did you become such a monster,” I ask.

            “Fine, I’ll tell you my story,” The Boss said.

(Flashback)

When I was little, I grew up on a farm with a very strict father. My mom had died from cancer so life was pretty hard. My father was constantly harsh towards me and never showed any form of compassion. The only brightness during my life was my older brother, Thomas. He was only a year older than me, but he was there for me more than anyone ever was. Everyday my father would get us up early in the morning and do several chores before we went to school. At school, our father didn’t care if we passed or failed. He was one of those guys who thought schools was pointless and everything you needed to know, you could learn on the streets through hard work. My grades started to slip and my dad was going to take me out of school. I tried to convince him I would do better and that I just needed some time. However, he didn’t care. He had made his decision. He was about to leave, but Thomas stopped him.

            “Vincent, can you go to your room,” Thomas said. “Dad and I need to have a conversation.”

            I go to mine and Thomas' room and sit on my bed while I wait to find out the results of the conversation. After a couple of minutes, I hear the front door slam shut. I then hear someone walking toward my room. The door to our bedroom opens and I see that it is Thomas. I sit up in my bed when Thomas sits down on my bed and rests his elbows on his knees as he slouches over. He breathes in deeply and exhales as he rubs his face with his hands.