Distant Remorse || A Bad Boy Romance

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

THE CONTRAST OF THE PAINTING in front of my mother had me engrossed and I wondered how she was able to create such a masterpiece and have the deepest dedication.

She loved it.

It was like her barrier to all her problems. When she got angry at dad or had a little argument she'll always come to the little painting section in the living room and start painting.

It had become my favorite thing. To just watch her paint. In a way, it was like my escape too.

Yesterday, she had only begun to teach me. The only reason she offered was only that she knew how badly the questions in my head were going—about her having the spectacular talent and how she could put it off and get lost in it.

"Just let your hand lead the brush against the white of the canvas." she'd said. "Remember that there isn't any right or wrong way to do it." I continued, creating wavy and crazy patterns. "Everything is art, Hades. Remember that." And I did.

+++

Dad, Mom, and I were sitting at the dinner table as a family like we always did at six. It was the best time of the day for me. It was the time that we got to talk about our days.

How school went for me or how Dad's day went. Even if it meant just listening to them. I wasn't much of a talkative kid. 

As much as we tried to put off dad's past dealings with the people he was involved with I somewhat knew that it still at least lingered in one of each other's minds at least once a day. It was a thing that we just couldn't ignore even if we wanted to.

"I heard your mom taught you a little painting today. how'd that go?" Dad asked as I dabbed onto a single pea on my plate.

"It went well. I rather see her just do it, though. I'm not good." I admitted and right as I knew my mom would, she gave me a stern playful gaze.

"Honey, that's not true, and you know that." she mused and I shrugged.

"Don't worry, son. You'll get better, eventually."

"Hale Bronx!" Mom scolded.

"Kidding!"

I smiled, shaking my head.

This is how it always went. The teasing, the laughing, mom shouting at dad, dad laughing at his own jokes. Then weekends I could tell were the best for them. We would head to a park in downtown Switzerland where my mom would usually love dancing around in her long flowery dress even if it was freezing cold. Dad and I stared at her with so much love, wondering how she held so much liveliness.

She used to pull us out to dance even when there wasn't music. She used to simply be the life of the party between the three of us. I sometimes wondered how it would be if I had siblings. Will the house be more cheerful, more humans with mom's energy?

I knew for a fact I wasn't born like her. It was all dad. I held most of his demeanor. Mom probably held some features of mine.

I'd gotten dad's green eyes.

Having mom around was like holding onto a steady, comforting magnet. It felt good. And I knew it wasn't just me who felt the same way. My dad also felt the same way. And I knew because it seemed as if every time we looked at her our minds connected and we thought the same thing.

Then...all of that vanished.

October third, Sunday evening. My birthday.

That date will always stay imprinted in my mind.

I was looking out my bedroom window, deep in thought when I heard gunshots, many gunshots, sounds of glass breaking, and my mom's yells calling for me.

I had automatically dashed out of my bedroom and into the living room when my parents called me over and I did, reluctantly, scared to death. "Don't make a sound, Hades," Dad ordered in a faint whisper as we stayed hunched down, away from the window sight.

Mom kissed my forehead, then she looked at dad with a sad gaze as if she didn't know what to do. She looked like she was trapped, afraid, and as if she had given up on running away from dad's enemies. Dad only stared at both of us as saddened and defeated. Then, finally, they both nodded as if coming to an agreement and both looked down at me.

Mom cupped my cheeks in her hands as tears welled in her eyes. "Run, honey. And do not look back, Ok?" she said kissing me on the forehead. Her lips stayed on me for a very long time, and I didn't even notice the tears running down my cheeks until she wiped them off.

It was then that I hated those people and even dad for putting us into this fucking mess. They were taking my mother away. Even if she didn't do anything wrong they wanted both of them gone.

"We love you," she said, lastly, letting go of me. I took a glance at dad and he nodded. I simply didn't speak or couldn't look at mom for the last time so I stood and ran out the back door into the backyard, and even when I heard the four gunshots that killed my parents I didn't turn back.

The only thing I vowed to myself that night was to not leave this world without them being killed one by one. Even if I had to go to hell for my sins at least I would know I got an ounce of blood in my hands.

But one thing is for sure...

I wouldn't hold an ounce of remorse for every single blood drop they shed.

***