He could tell from day one that people didn't like him. For a baby who was still learning to walk and talk, it was all very perplexing. He would cry from the aching feeling that settled in his stomach whilst also praying for warmth in someone's arms. But all he was met with were hate-filled stares and cold looks.
They glared at him with hatred and disgust, as if he had done something wrong and was solely to blame. He doesn't know what he did. He was a child, a baby who knew of nothing. But he believes no one treated him too harshly when he was a child. They'd handle the necessities, but he had to find ways to keep himself occupied or warm with his little arms and legs.
Whenever he cried, they yelled at him and sometimes even picked him up to yell even louder in his face. They spoke something, but he couldn't make out what it was. He didn't know the words they yelled until he got old enough to go to school to learn how to read and write. The echoes of their words resounded in his mind every passing day. They had called him a killer, a murderer, someone unwanted. It hurt. What they said and continued to say... hurt a lot.
He couldn't deny that what they were saying was, from their point of view, true. His mother's death during childbirth caused his father, grandfather, grandmother, and aunt to reject him and hold him responsible. He doesn't believe it's true because how could a child kill their own mother just after being born? It's not possible.
The only explanation he has for his mother dying is her having either heart problems or a stroke. He is sure the doctors would have told them this, but, blinded by their grief, anger, and guilt, they didn't listen and chose to blame him.
It's easier to blame someone rather than accept the reality that life gave you, especially if it brings you pain and guilt. Those are two common factors of why most people choose to blame others, whether it's for their own mistakes or it relieves their pain for only a few seconds. It's in our nature as humans to blame and place guilt on others. It's just how we are, and because of that, he couldn't bring himself to blame them. He pitied them.
Despite being a smart six-year-old, life never got easier for him. His family and the children at school, all seemed so determined to make his life as miserable as possible. Initially, the bullying was tolerable, but it quickly got worse as days went by.
From name calls and tiny shoves to outright daily beatings and being thrown more harsh words than before. And on top of his Mother's family's secret business, it was hard to keep up with everything. Honestly, he is really surprised that he even survived long enough to graduate high school and have a few years in college which he graduated with flying colors!
It made him happy and feel like once in his life he was successful... until he got dragged back into the family business. Honestly, he wasn't even surprised when his aunt, his mother's sister, came up to him one day before the children at his school grew harsh, to take him to some secret room in the basement.
At first, he thought he was probably gonna see the other side that day, but, sure enough, that didn't happen, much to his sad and miserable life. But he did get some interesting information out of his aunt. As it turns out, his family is composed of serial killers, or more specifically, assassins.
Honestly, with their attitude, he had once thought of them as serial killers, but he hadn't actually thought of it as the truth. His Aunt had even told him their family's assassin name which is Altair, It's a good name, but he has a slight problem with it. His stupid family is a part of it.
At the time when he first learned of this, he was about 7-8, so he was very young, but that didn't stop them from training him to be the head of the family and to continue the legacy. He didn't want to, not because of the killing that was to be involved, but more so because he just wanted to be by himself doing nothing and lazing around reading a book, but he didn't quite have a choice.
So, they trained him to be the best of the best, to be strong, stealthy, and fast enough to kill his target. And seeing his great potential and how fast he was learning, they took advantage of that and started to use him more than one should.
They sent him on dangerous missions or sent him to make deals with other assassin groups that sometimes wouldn't end well. Everything he did was because of them. Everything he went through and continued to go through, Was. Because. Of. Them.
They took everything from him. They isolated him, but that wasn't much of a problem considering he is a loner, he had to spend it in the same house as his family, which is a problem he didn't like but couldn't change.
There wasn't anything good with being an assassin, he got his name talked about online and on the streets. Every time his name was mentioned, he would get flashbacks to all the times he would have to kill. It would unnerve him and fill him with dread and guilt, having to be reminded of their last moments, their fear-stricken faces as he slit their throat.
He felt disgusted with himself. He was pushed into this awful life when his aunt took him to that basement and told him their family secrets. He felt anger and hatred, but that soon weaved into sorrow, guilt, and sympathy. He was sad, always sad and guilty. It was always an ongoing occurrence of feelings in his broken mind.
But, he had hope, a sliver of sympathy for his family kept him going, which should be surprising considering that they treat him like their puppet and killing machine. Like he is easy to control. Which he was.
Despite having his name out there, nobody would know who he was because he had been quite isolated since birth. And being isolated meant no friends, no fun, no talks, no little picnics, or going out.
It meant staying in his room and being watched and monitored every day and every hour. He was caged like an animal in that house. He never felt an ounce of peace or clarity. Even if he was alone in a room without cameras or windows, he always felt like he was being watched. It was an unpleasant feeling.
The missions he gets come from his father, the husband of his mother, the one everyone blames him for killing. Honestly, his life had gone to shit the very day he was born, and to say that he wouldn't be mad if he died would be the truth, because he wouldn't mind.
His life is shit anyway. What is there to lose? After a while, his family soon got tired of him, he didn't know why, he did everything for them and continued to do so but now he has lost his value. Is that it? but, after he found out, he felt a painful throb in his chest for some reason, Could there actually be a part of him that was surprised they would do this? Heb was being abandoned.
After finding out that his family wanted to get rid of him, coincidently, they were sent a government letter saying that they would like to buy him, which was ridiculous, because, how could a government letter be sent to his family just after he found out? Was it all planned?
At first, he denied them, not wanting to be forced into working with the corrupted government, but they gave him no choice in the matter. It's like his rights as a person were stripped away like he was a slave in a modern world. Despite his struggles, he was taken to the government to be used like a pawn, a toy for their selfish desires.
Until he met someone, someone who swept away everything awful that happened on his bad days and who had a place in his heart. She was beautiful, kind-hearted, and just the persona of lovely. They were together for years, and he cherished every one of them and every second. But, he wished he didn't.
She was a snake, an imposter that wiggled its way into his life. She betrayed him. The only reason she was together with him was to get pregnant with his child to give to his family because they wanted an heir. What bullshit. He thought he had finally gotten the life and love he should've had, but he was wrong.
It was like every little thing he gets that would make him happy has to be faked or taken away from him. He was never allowed to make his own choices or do anything he wanted to do. It was like he was a doll with strings wrapping his ankles and wrists, controlling his every move. It was like he wasn't allowed to think either.
And he soon got fed up. He cut those puppet strings off and cut ties with his family, too. And, he was happy, happy he finally took a step and did something of his own volition. He was proud, yet so sad and haunted. Despite living for a few more years, he hadn't felt an ounce of happiness that he had felt on that specific day.
He was just filled with emptiness and sorrow. He would be haunted by the wisps and ghostly forms of those he has taken the life of. It somehow always surprises him that he has gotten so far. He thinks it's because he would have died much earlier if it weren't for his messed-up emotions and thoughts about his family.
His childhood was shitty. His family was shitty. Everyone was shitty. And he finally alleviated himself and left the shitty world he was born in. And, he actually felt an enormous amount of clarity, finally, after all these years, he could finally rest, and never think again.