PitBabeS2, Chapter 1 pg11

pg11

    “I’m not acting. I do know you.”

   “Huh, what’s my last name?”

   “Chen,” the troublemaker answered with full confidence. “All of Tony’s kids have the same last name. Too easy a question, huh?”

   “I’ve never used that last name.” It might sound like a statement laced with resentment, but in truth, it was empty. I didn’t feel anything about it. It was just a fact I didn’t often voice—that I don’t even have a last name, and I don’t know what my real name was before I was taken in. “Just Kenta… nothing else.”

   “For real?” The creak of the wooden table and the rustle of clothes told me the other guy had plopped down on the old table not far from the cot. “I thought everyone used the same last name. You, Babe, Way, Jeff, even Pete.”

   “Don’t know about the others, but I don’t use it.”

   “Not surprising. Tony never saw you as his kid anyway.”

   If that idiot had said the same thing to me two years ago, those words would’ve stabbed me right in the heart. Even though I was raised worse than an animal, I have to admit that deep down, I once hoped for genuine love from my adoptive father. Even a tiny sliver would’ve been enough to keep me grateful for years. But time and again, when I gave him a chance, he never bothered to take it. In the end, I became the ungrateful son. My hands were stained with his blood. I stood in the middle, between the line of being a murderer and a hero, and even now, I can’t say which side I’d rather step toward. Or maybe, in reality, I never had a choice to begin with. God had already decided it, just waiting for the day of judgment.

   “But I respect you for one thing, Kenta,” Winner said in a calm tone. It wasn’t often you’d hear a normal human voice from that hollow-brained guy. Maybe because we were stuck in the same hell with no way out, he seemed a bit more human. Just a tiny bit, though. “I never thought you’d have the guts to kill Tony. I thought you’d worship him, like you’d die for him or something. When I heard he was dead, I was shocked, sure. But when I found out who did it? Man, I thought I was in some epic trilogy. That was insane.”

   I didn’t think that was praise worth being proud of. Sure, there were moments when I felt like a hero freeing everyone from Tony’s hell. But I couldn’t puff out my chest and declare what I did was right. Even if killing a villain is a sin many accept, was Tony’s single life really enough? Compared to the countless lives I ignored, the ones I helped him kill, or even those I killed myself—could Tony’s worthless life really atone for all that? I don’t think the world’s rules are that simple.

   “After you get out of here, what’re you gonna do?” Winner was annoyingly good at talking to himself. Even though I lay there with my eyes closed, pretending he didn’t exist, that fool kept chatting away without a hint of awkwardness. “Tony’s gone. What’s a guy like you got left to do? Can’t even imagine.”

   I didn’t respond. Not just because I was annoyed with my conversation partner, but because, honestly, I didn’t know either. I didn’t know where I’d go next. I didn’t know if staying in here or going back out there was scarier. And most importantly… there was still something nagging at my heart.

   A doubt I hadn’t been able to resolve since the day Tony died until now.

   “Who were you fighting with earlier?” I asked Winner. Of course, I still refused to open my eyes and look at his infuriating face.

   “That guy Dean, remember him? From Team X,” Winner replied. “Bastard stole my candy. Took me a whole week to get that in here.”

   A stupid reason, as expected from his pointless game-show antics. But it was useful in a way, because for at least two percent, it lifted my spirits. Even a split second of not thinking about that possibility was a worthwhile break.

   “When you go out, if you’re up to something, take me with you. I might not like your face much, but I can be your lackey,” Winner said.

   I wish time here would pass slowly, slower than it does now. It’d be nice if I could die here, because the world out there will probably be a thousand times scarier the day I step back into it. 

   BABE:

   The first thing I saw after walking out of the bathroom was familiar. Charlie never dawdles when it comes to showering, so he’s always done before me. Because of that, every time I finish bathing, I come out to find Charlie leaning against the headboard in the same spot, a pillow on his lap, and a laptop perched on top. The blue light reflects off the glasses he still wears constantly, even though his eyesight has improved a lot thanks to the senses he stole from me. Those glasses are more habit now, probably just helping shield his eyes from screen glare a bit.

   “Frowning again,” I said, sitting on the bed and poking the spot between the brows of the glasses-wearing kid who always furrows them when working. If he doesn’t fix this habit, he’ll go from a golden retriever to some wrinkly breed in no time. “If it’s stressing you out, why not take a break?”

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