Episode 2
Elora Adams
"Ugh, this has got to stop." Damien groaned as he sat on a pile of bodies—human bodies, his classmates, to be more specific.
It had been 5 years since the widow brought home a mystery child into the village; he looked like them, but he sure as well didn't act like them, unlike the rest of the children in school; he was more mature, smarter, stronger... they hated it, they hated him.
They never let a day go by without reminding him that he was a bastard and was lucky he got picked from the trash; not that I bothered him, but their voices could get annoying from time to time.
He kicked himself out of the pile of bodies, wiping the blood on his knuckles on his shirt. He instantly regretted that now Elora...his mother would know he had been in yet another fight.
He looked back at the pile of bodies, all alive, of course. He could risk taking one of their lives, even though it would be extremely easy. He knew if he did that would confirm his everyday thought that he was a devil; he didn't want to be that, not yet at least. He was going to do his best to hold on to the humanity in him.
"Ma!" he waved at her as he ran down the path to her small shop. She sold flowers and fruit from her garden.
"Damien," she smiled, taking off her sunhat; she never left home without it. Her sweet smile welcomed him inside. "Oh my, your shirt looks all wet."
"ah yes" He itched his head nervously. "I fell into a pond playing with some of my friends."
"You boys," she chuckled softly as she arranged a bouquet of tulips.
He sat on a chair and watched her as she did, taking in the familiar smell he had come to love. His mother always had the smell of roses on her, even when they weren't in season. He always wondered why.
"Ma, did you sell any flowers today?"
"Oh, not today, Damien, no, but we'll get them tomorrow." She flashed her pearly whites at him. "You know people just don't buy because it's not the season of love; just wait for Valentine to roll out; they'll be begging us to sell."
"right?" He laughed with her; of course they both knew that wasn't true; they were hardly pulling through,eating from hand to mouth, but they were happy.
When Elora's husband passed away,he left the house for her along with his garden, but that was it, nothing more to his name, so she worked hard to buy her own shop and start her own business. She never did remarry, although he died quite early in their marriage. She was only 26, but she never did; he was her only love.
They didn't have children either, so she tried adopting. She adopted her daughter Candice,who after everything stole her money and jewelry and ran away with her boyfriend. She had been gone for 7 years, and she had not heard one news story about her throughout.
"Isn't the sunset so beautiful today?" she smiled at Damien as they walked up a path.
"It's absolutely amazing."
"God is good," she smiled as they walked hand in hand, using her other hand to hold on to the tulips.
He looked at her as the sun set bathed her in an unholy amount of light. "He is; he made good people like you, so I think he is."
She looked at him and smiled sweetly. "Has anyone ever told you, you talk really mature for your age?"
"You would not believe it, but more than once actually," he laughed. They laughed together as they reached the top of the hill they were climbing, less of a hill and more of a cliff. Below it was a babbling brook filled with all kinds of smooth, colorful stones that seemed to shimmer in the sunset. It was his favorite spot in the whole village and Elora's favorite spot too; it was the place her husband proposed to her and also the place he died.
"another wonderful evening, Alfie." She set the bouquet down on the bench he had loved to sit on. "Damien came with me again; isn't he such a sweetheart?"
He looked back at her as she talked to the bench again. He knew the history; everybody knew the history.
"Damien's all grown up now; he's even as tall as me, maybe a bit taller; he took our surname; it looks like we did have the son we always wanted; Candice isn't." The word jammed in her throat. Candice was a hard topic to speak about. "Watch over her for me, okay, Alfie."
She slowly backed away from the bench.
"I'll be back again tomorrow; don't miss me too much."
"Bye, Mr. Alfie" Damien bowed his head politely at the bench.
"Hmm," she nudged him with a smile on her face. "Aren't you so polite?" she laughed heartily, even kicking her head back.
"Yeah, yeah." He took her arm as they went down the cliff. He held her tight as they went down. Even though she was laughing,tears were streaming down her face.
"Uh oh," his lips drew a straight line as they approached their home. From afar, they could see a small crowd of people in front of their cottage; they were women and some patched-up boys, the boys he had beaten up.
"Not again" elora sighed, she held his arm as they ducked behind a bush "the lake...huh" she side eyed him
"...sorry" he lowered his head
"I guess we are waiting them out" she sat on the ground "just tell me, did you at least win"
He tightened his fist as a playful smirk spread on his face
"I never lose."
"That's my boy," they smiled at each other.
A WEEK LATER
"Damien, go check who's at the door." Elora shouted through the kitchen window; she was cooking up something and couldn't leave unless it'd burn.
"On it," he put down the watering can he was holding and dusted his dirty hands on the garden apron. He took off his garden shoes and walked in to the house to the front door. Just as he was about to open it, a deafening knock descended on the door; it was more like banging than knocking.
Something was wrong; he could feel it.
By the time the aggressive knocking had stopped, Elora herself was outside the kitchen; she had turned off what she was making and came out to see what the noise was about.
"stay back" Damien put his hand in front of her as she approached the door. "I'll do it."
He reached for the doorknob and opened the door. There in front of him stood a big man of over 6 feet tall; he looked quite unhealthy and was covered all over in body hair; he didn't smell any better either.
"Is this the home of Elora Adams?" his crude voice echoed through the house.
Damien didn't reply. His cold eyes swept around the man's less than flattering face without fear. They then landed on the girl by his side. She looked sickly, her body covered in healed scars and her face covered with fresh ones. She had brown hair and hazel eyes, an unusual combo around these parts.
"Well, goddammit, speak boy, is it?"
No answer
"You bitch," he spat at the girl in his clutches. "Did you bring me to the wrong house?"
"No sir," she shook. "This is the place; this is my mother's house."
"Mother..." Damien thought in his mind as he gave them one more once over. He stepped back into the house, closed the door in their faces, and pinned all the locks.
"Who was that?" Elora appeared behind him.
"It was nothi..."
"I have Candice; open the damn door." The man's grueling voice interrupted
"Candice," she glanced at Damien as she rushed the door.
As he heard the buckles of the locks unclick, he knew they were about to be in a whole lot of trouble.