Ally and I work for Reprisal. The secret organisation that gives young people like me the opportunity to retaliate against those who wronged them. I joined with not an ounce of expectation, standards, but simply the newfound curiosity and a leap in my feet after months of letting the cold darkness of my thoughts and memories of what's been lost enfold me.
My father left on a two-day trip, and he barely sighed when I handed him his briefcase and told him to be careful on the roads. He'd grown better each day, but it was about time he'd gotten out of his den. And so, when I listened to his voicemail and discovered his boss asking him to make a brief trip to the office in the inner-city, I managed to convince him to head up. He needed the fresh air as much as I needed the privacy.
That first afternoon, after a hectic day of school, instead of taking the school bus home, I hopped on a public bus to take me uptown. With the address in my pocket, I felt a deep determination to find this place, but after circling around the written address twice, I still had no idea what to do, who to ask, where to look.
That's when Ally appeared.
Ironic that Ally appeared from an alley. Where the shadows were overpowering that her dark hair, skin, eyes and clothes let her move amongst it undetected. When she emerged from the narrow street, I thought that she was the most beautiful looking devil I had ever seen. And she was the one who took my hand and led me into the deep.
These people, all supposedly young, seemed so much older when I first met them, glancing briefly at each one of their faces as I passed them on my way to meet Boss. The boss called Boss.
If I closed my eyes and pictured them at the time, I'd have seen sharp teeth, sunken eyes, chapped lips, scars, bruises. But I met with them once a month. And each time those cold and unwelcoming features grew softer.
Chipped teeth from the bully who knocked her down the stairs; sunken eyes from an insomniac brother who had the monsters of Schizophrenia on his toes; chapped lips from a homeless boy who would've succumbed to starvation if Boss hadn't taken him in; scars on a girl who was once a model before she met her step-mother; and bruises on the kid who was taught too much about the importance of self-discipline – my friends.
My friends promised me, after hearing my story, that they'd help me avenge my mother. But the teensy-weensy issue with my mission created the biggest obstacle; I didn't know who did it.
I have a hunch, I informed Boss.
He'd been on his way out, looking distressed. His eyes radiated his annoyance, but his voice was steady.
Harry, a hunch isn't enough to get onto this mission.
I'd been so desperate for his help that I'd grabbed his coat sleeve, tugging.
What if it is them? What if I let them get away?
I may have started crying, but I blinked and I was on the floor. Boss stood over me, clenching his shaking fists. He was young too. Not a kid, but not old enough to ignore our feelings. He had no visible scars, bruises, cuts, or anything of the sort. But his person resonated the coldness of a dank corridor, like he'd been living in a freezer all his life. His eyes were icy blue, slicing through everything he stared at intently, but his red hair and freckled cheeks made him seem like a little boy. The only part of him that I found different in the slightest was his voice. Hoarse, tired, like the voice of a middle-aged shouty man. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, but I'd never let that scare me.
I remember how weak I felt, balled on the ground, letting the tears roll and the whimpers fall out. But my boss knelt beside me, and his arms steadied me like my mum's once did.
We're going to help you, Harry, he reassured me, trying a smile. We'll do whatever it takes. I think I may have mustered a smile. But then his smile faded, and he said: But we won't be killing any innocent people. That's the last thing we do here. He stood, lifting me up to my feet. Which is why until we receive more reliable information about your mother, we cannot go ahead with the mission.
Little did Boss know that within the next three years, he'd find a lead. A lead that made perfect sense. I still remember when I first read his privately-sent Email to me.
Tenacity, the name that was given to me by Boss.
I'll give you an early Christmas present: the gift of revenge.
We've made it, kid. Our research has concluded.
We know who you're after.
Your mother, as per the annual health check-up organised by your father, Edward, visited the local clinic two days before her unexpected death. The doctor working in that clinic on that day at the time of visit was Dr. "Bill" Kelly, a qualified doctor with fourteen years of experience. Two years before you were born, your mother, Scarlett, was also due for a check-up at the clinic, and was sick at the time. She was prescribed an antibiotic by Dr. Kelly, but after only two days of taking the medicine, your mother fell ill. In response, your father sued the clinic, and Dr. Kelly lost almost everything. He's bounced back, and to flatten any suspicions that could've been raised about him, he waited all that time before pouncing on your family.
About your hunch: We took into great consideration the possibility that that family that visited you was the Kelly family. But from your given descriptions, it is unlikely to be them. They may not have had any association with your family, and were simply there to visit your father. Don't fret, Tenacity, we'll look further into it.
P.S. You've been away too long. I won't deny that we all miss you around. Come visit sometime.
Boss.