Noah got right into work. Draven sat on the opposite couch, watching him. The boy’s hand flew over the keyboard, making loud typing sounds. Draven didn’t want to ask him too much questions and lose his focus; he had even brought out one more drink for the boy just to encourage him. Noah went on and on about how he would really like Draven to call his name in the future if he needs a favor he couldn’t afford. Draven simply nodded and remained sitted. He wasn’t sure he’d ever need Noah’s services again. Matter of fact, he didn’t even know what he wanted to do after this.Should he rally go after his father, like he intended? Should he visit them again and see how they’re faring or should he just punish them straight up? Draven was torn. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, or rather he did but didn’t know how he should act on it.For the past two days, he’d been thinking. His thoughts had been interrupted then by the neighbor’s kids again. The two of them had mocked him, wondering when
Thanksgiving is next week. It was on a Thursday, the most inconspicuous day of the week. It was the day most murders were committed, the day offenders and murderers were caught. It was just… a very mysterious day.Draven thought about this day for a long time. When the teenage boy who tracked them mentioned it, it played in his head over and over again, but not in a bad way. He had no plans to kill his family. He hadn’t even thought about it that way at all. What he meant by avenging himself was just showing them that he was now better than them, that’s all.Right?Well the boy wasn’t around to explain all of this to you, so there’s no need to overthink it. He might not even visit them again, seeing as how the whole thing was going. Draven started to play music on the speaker at his home. There was a car waiting for him in his garage, a tank full of fuel to help him. He had money, loads of cash to set him up for life, a bunch of neighbors who would want to introduce him to their daugh
Draven stopped in front of the door. It was a fancy little house that seemed to have faded over the years. He wondered how long he had been gone and why they had moved. Was it a year ago? It felt like a year ago, though now that he has calculated it, it was actually seven months ago. He’s been in the game for seven long months, and he wasn’t sure when it would end, or if it would end anytime soon. He could be in the game for years, years, before he even won. And what did winning mean exactly? They had not explicitly explained that. If they were getting money now as little wins, does that mean the biggest win would be a full mountain of cash? Oh, what would he do to place his hand on that cash? And if it was a big mountain of cash, doesn’t it make sense that only limited people—if not everyone-would have access to it since they won it?Draven groaned as he brought his mind back to the door and the girlish giggle behind the door. He was subconsciously trying to avoid this moment but he
Draven laughed for such a long time that he didn’t even notice the weird silence that engulfed the room. His laughter soared high and fast, and with his drunken self, it sounded as mocking as he expected it to be. He was mocking his father, mocking the lives that they live now. When he stopped laughing long enough to look at their faces, the first place his eyes landed on were the twins. Holly and Dolly.Such silly names to give silly girls, but it sort of suits them. Their long, snobbish nose, their bleached hair, and their overdrawn eyes. They looked like clowns, and honestly they didn’t even need a stage name for their stripping jobs.“Holly and Dolly just sound right for you guys in your new field, you know that?” He asked them.They both grinned, clearly pleased by his praise. They were so stupid to see the sarcasm and insult laced underneath. Draven was not in any way disappointed; in matter of fact, he found it hilarious. He looked at his father, and then his stepmother, and t
Jerome Hampton stared at his son, unable to react. He had never been stunned by anything in the past years, until his son suddenly arrived at his door in full of glamour and wealth. Where had he gotten all that money from? Jerome kept wondering. It’s been six months… or was it seven? He couldn’t really remember. Everything had become a long blur for a very long while, but he always knew when the end was coming. The way Draven had tracked them down to their new environment did not bode well for him. How much did he know? How much was he going to take? Matter of fact, how ignorant was he?He would have known best how to react in these situations if he knew how ignorant Draven really was. But now that he knew nothing, absolutely nothing at all Jerome knew that his chances were slim. His eyes traveled from Draven’s wild ones to his daughters; the razz girls that he had adopted from Meredith, when they all came to live with him. Jerome thought he could be happy, but he’d never felt more pr
She hadn’t expected that question. Margret had never been fully accused outright of doing something before, much less of poisoning. She tried to control her breathing and her reaction to the accusation, but she was honestly so afraid and she couldn't tell. She thought the boy was gone forever and now he was back into their lives, looking like the very nemesis that they had been accorded. She hadn’t run so far away just to continue running again.Draven sighed heavily. Jerome was very still beside her, but he acted so naturally. He hadn’t asked her to do it, and they were so close. They were so very close; he would have popped a potato in his mouth if her husband hadn't interrupted him.“Did you poison this, Margret?” Draven asked again, his voice as smooth as usual.“Why would you even say that?” she whispered, her throat dry. “Why would you even think about that? It’s a full dish!”“It is, isn’t it?”Draven looked like he was considering her claims. He raised the large dishing spoon
Draven continued to watch them silently. As promised, it was a long ass dinner. They were still seated around the table and were unbearably quiet after Margret’s outburst. This was good; it gave Draven some time to rethink his decisions and options again. While coming here, he had thought about a lot of things but was still unsure of revenge. He wanted surety, he wanted love. How hard was it to ask for love from a family member? What were the chances that they would immediately recognize you and proceed to ask for forgiveness for their mistakes? What were the chances then? None. It was none. He’d set some things in motion, of course, and then come here in the hope that his family would have changed. He thought they’d be remorseful about abandoning him all the while, not trying to kill him.This whole poisoning saga opened his eyes to a lot of things; oh so many things. His father married Margaret a few months before his mother’s death, when he was twelve. She tortured him painfully, t
Jerome wasn’t sure if he was breathing well. His main suspicions were coming to life. Draven had mentioned his mother’s wealth; the very thing that he should not have known. How did he know of it? Who told him about it? He looked at Margaret, and she was looking at him. He wanted to say so many things to her, but now was not the time. Draven walked around the table, breathing down their necks. He looked like a grim reaper, the angel of death.“What is your true purpose here?” Jerome suddenly blurted. It was better to get this over with, just as he had said. “Why don’t you tell us why you’re here, truly, huh?”He stopped behind the girls and placed his hands on each of their shoulders. “Why am I here?" Father, you should already know that.”“I don’t know your purpose, but I also know that you won’t have just come in here for no reason than to reunite with us.”He raised a hand from Dolly and placed it on his chest. “Ouch, I’m hurt. You didn’t think that I was lost and suddenly came ba