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INTERLUDE
Caroline is 5 years old when Ian is born.
Nothing really changes. Her parents make her look at the tiny thing that looks like a wrinkled prune, and then she goes on with her life. He gets his own nanny, so he doesn’t take the affection of hers away. Their parents go back to work and don’t pay attention to either of them.
But.
His screaming annoys her to no end. Their rooms are in different wings of their mansion but she can still hear him in the night.
She pulls her pillow over her head and tries to shut out the wailing.
It doesn’t work.
With a huff she gets up and tiny feet patter across the long and winding hallways to the source of the crying. Caroline is going to make him shut up, so she can sleep.
She gets on her toes and pushes open the heavy door, ready to face her adversary.
He quiets down when he sees her.
She takes a tentative step forward.
He smiles toothlessly.
And Caroline realizes she kind of loves that weird little thing.
***
Ian pushes open the door of his sister’s room, rubbing his eyes.
She’s bent over her desk, scribbling something, presumably her homework.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, young man?”
Ian’s small face screws up in a ferocious baby scowl. She knows he hates it when she calls him that.
“Can’t sleep,” he murmurs.
Caroline lays down her pen and swivels around in her chair, steepling her fingers. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes that Ian knows heralds adventure.
“Well, that won’t do.”
***
Ian is 9 when Caroline is kidnapped for ransom.
She returns only two days later, save and unharmed. Ian cries when he sees her and sleeps in her bed that night. She promises not to tell anyone about that.
In the weeks to come, Ian follows her everywhere, like the world’s tiniest and angriest shadow.
Eventually, Caroline sighs and takes him aside.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His childish face twists in a glare, his delicate jaw set in determination. His voice is extremely high-pitched when he declares, “Protecting you from bad men.”
Caroline realizes she may be biased, but it’s an undisputable fact that she has the most adorable little brother in the whole freaking world.
***
Puberty hits Ian like a truck, and he grows distant.
Caroline, remembering her own awkward hormonal stage, thinks little of it. She’ll give him space if that is what he wants. He’ll come to her with his problems eventually, as he always does.
Still, she can’t help but be a little concerned as she watches her shy yet affectionate baby brother turn into a cold and brooding teenager.
***
What am I doing?
Ian furtively glances around, even though he knows perfectly well that he is alone. His mother is at the office, his father is pretending to be at his office but is far more likely to be with his secretary, and Caroline is at college and only ever comes home during the weekends anymore, if that.
He is in her room.
And eyeing her closet, which he knows is filled to the brim with stylish designer clothes.
Stop it.
Ian tentatively takes a step forward, and then another, and then pulls the doors open with shaking fingers.
Go back.
His eyes linger on Caroline’s skirt collection for a long moment, and he swallows heavily.
It won’t even fit.
Ian has finally hit his growth spurt. He’s always been small for his age, thin and a little delicate looking, which was embarrassing as hell when his classmates all towered over him.
Except now Ian towers over everyone else, even his parents
His weight hasn’t quite caught up with his bones yet; he looks thin and gangly and kind of awkward, but his father approves anyway, saying he’ll fill out soon enough. And then he’ll be a younger copy of his father.
His father looks as handsome as a movie star.
The thought of looking like him makes Ian nauseous, and he doesn’t know why.
Maybe it’s just the thought of being like him.
His fingertips trail along the silky fabric of a gown, marveling at its smoothness. He wonders what it would feel like to wear it. Maybe… just for a few minutes…
No!
He flinches when he realizes he’s thinking about wearing a dress and god, what is wrong with him, why does he have to be like this, why can’t he be normal?
He slowly backs out of the closet, away from the gowns, and his back hits another cabinet. Ian glances down and swallows.
He’s found her lingerie drawer.
It’s stuffed to the brim. Ian’s hand reaches in without him consciously willing it.
Pretty.
He traces the shape of a delicate stich pattern, never having felt anything like it.
Ian glances around again with shifty eyes.
There’s so many. Surely Caroline won’t notice one pair of panties missing, right? Just one.
That’s Caroline’s!
That, more than anything, gives him pause. Ian slowly withdraws his hand as shame writhes in his belly.
He is standing in his sister’s room, thinking about taking things that belong to her. His sister, who is the only one in this cold family who ever showed affection, who hugged him, who told him she loved him.
And he is thinking about stealing from her to fuel this perverse obsession.
He darts out of the room and slams the door behind him.
***
“Everything’s going to be fine.”
Ian stares at the ransom demand in the form of a video message, eyes wide. He realizes his hands are shaking so he folds them over his muscular chest.
She is lying.
For him. His sister has a great poker face – something he knows from many, many rounds of lost card games – and she is using it there. Ian can tell.
He hadn’t handled her last kidnapping well, true, but he’d been a child then. He’s almost an adult now, he can handle this, she should worry about her own safety instead of putting on a show for him.
His vision is blurry and he quickly wipes a hand over his eyes before anyone sees.
He can handle this.
His parents are preparing the money.
Everything’s going to be just fine.
***
Ian’s eyes are distant as the lawyer talks at him about inheritance and legal guardians and grief counseling. He isn’t listening.
The only thing he hears is the howl of rage inside of him.
Ian is 15 years old when he learns what hatred is.
Of Heroes And Villains:
The Ties That Bind By Minikisa An assassin. A fallen hero. An unlikely meeting. The road to redemption is long and hard and filled with explosives. |
 |
Caroline is 5 years old when Ian is born.
Nothing really changes. Her parents make her look at the tiny thing that looks like a wrinkled prune, and then she goes on with her life. He gets his own nanny, so he doesn’t take the affection of hers away. Their parents go back to work and don’t pay attention to either of them.
But.
His screaming annoys her to no end. Their rooms are in different wings of their mansion but she can still hear him in the night.
She pulls her pillow over her head and tries to shut out the wailing.
It doesn’t work.
With a huff she gets up and tiny feet patter across the long and winding hallways to the source of the crying. Caroline is going to make him shut up, so she can sleep.
She gets on her toes and pushes open the heavy door, ready to face her adversary.
He quiets down when he sees her.
She takes a tentative step forward.
He smiles toothlessly.
And Caroline realizes she kind of loves that weird little thing.
She’s bent over her desk, scribbling something, presumably her homework.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, young man?”
Ian’s small face screws up in a ferocious baby scowl. She knows he hates it when she calls him that.
“Can’t sleep,” he murmurs.
Caroline lays down her pen and swivels around in her chair, steepling her fingers. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes that Ian knows heralds adventure.
“Well, that won’t do.”
Ian is 9 when Caroline is kidnapped for ransom.
She returns only two days later, save and unharmed. Ian cries when he sees her and sleeps in her bed that night. She promises not to tell anyone about that.
In the weeks to come, Ian follows her everywhere, like the world’s tiniest and angriest shadow.
Eventually, Caroline sighs and takes him aside.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His childish face twists in a glare, his delicate jaw set in determination. His voice is extremely high-pitched when he declares, “Protecting you from bad men.”
Caroline realizes she may be biased, but it’s an undisputable fact that she has the most adorable little brother in the whole freaking world.
Puberty hits Ian like a truck, and he grows distant.
Caroline, remembering her own awkward hormonal stage, thinks little of it. She’ll give him space if that is what he wants. He’ll come to her with his problems eventually, as he always does.
Still, she can’t help but be a little concerned as she watches her shy yet affectionate baby brother turn into a cold and brooding teenager.
What am I doing?
Ian furtively glances around, even though he knows perfectly well that he is alone. His mother is at the office, his father is pretending to be at his office but is far more likely to be with his secretary, and Caroline is at college and only ever comes home during the weekends anymore, if that.
He is in her room.
And eyeing her closet, which he knows is filled to the brim with stylish designer clothes.
Stop it.
Ian tentatively takes a step forward, and then another, and then pulls the doors open with shaking fingers.
Go back.
His eyes linger on Caroline’s skirt collection for a long moment, and he swallows heavily.
It won’t even fit.
Ian has finally hit his growth spurt. He’s always been small for his age, thin and a little delicate looking, which was embarrassing as hell when his classmates all towered over him.
Except now Ian towers over everyone else, even his parents
His weight hasn’t quite caught up with his bones yet; he looks thin and gangly and kind of awkward, but his father approves anyway, saying he’ll fill out soon enough. And then he’ll be a younger copy of his father.
His father looks as handsome as a movie star.
The thought of looking like him makes Ian nauseous, and he doesn’t know why.
Maybe it’s just the thought of being like him.
His fingertips trail along the silky fabric of a gown, marveling at its smoothness. He wonders what it would feel like to wear it. Maybe… just for a few minutes…
No!
He flinches when he realizes he’s thinking about wearing a dress and god, what is wrong with him, why does he have to be like this, why can’t he be normal?
He slowly backs out of the closet, away from the gowns, and his back hits another cabinet. Ian glances down and swallows.
He’s found her lingerie drawer.
It’s stuffed to the brim. Ian’s hand reaches in without him consciously willing it.
Pretty.
He traces the shape of a delicate stich pattern, never having felt anything like it.
Ian glances around again with shifty eyes.
There’s so many. Surely Caroline won’t notice one pair of panties missing, right? Just one.
That’s Caroline’s!
That, more than anything, gives him pause. Ian slowly withdraws his hand as shame writhes in his belly.
He is standing in his sister’s room, thinking about taking things that belong to her. His sister, who is the only one in this cold family who ever showed affection, who hugged him, who told him she loved him.
And he is thinking about stealing from her to fuel this perverse obsession.
He darts out of the room and slams the door behind him.
“Everything’s going to be fine.”
Ian stares at the ransom demand in the form of a video message, eyes wide. He realizes his hands are shaking so he folds them over his muscular chest.
She is lying.
For him. His sister has a great poker face – something he knows from many, many rounds of lost card games – and she is using it there. Ian can tell.
He hadn’t handled her last kidnapping well, true, but he’d been a child then. He’s almost an adult now, he can handle this, she should worry about her own safety instead of putting on a show for him.
His vision is blurry and he quickly wipes a hand over his eyes before anyone sees.
He can handle this.
His parents are preparing the money.
Everything’s going to be just fine.
Ian’s eyes are distant as the lawyer talks at him about inheritance and legal guardians and grief counseling. He isn’t listening.
The only thing he hears is the howl of rage inside of him.
Ian is 15 years old when he learns what hatred is.
Comments
Interlude was really well done...
...but I want more story. Apparently posting a chapter a day is not enough to sate my appetite for your work.
Impactful
Short, but so telling.
It's a mystery to me...
.
.
The girl in me... often puzzled
by the most random of things :-)
if only...
If only ian had opened up to his sister about what he was feeling, i'm sure she would have started helping him to accept what he felt. Unfortunately her being kidnapped at the worst possible time... its just so sad.
Great interlude, can't wait for the next chapter.
As always, thanks for sharing.
"Ian is 15 years old when he learns what hatred is."
Gee, he's a slow learner. I knew what hatred was at seven.
i'm sorry
II guess i'm lucky. I'm 35 and still don't understand hatred. (I hope I never do, and i'm sorry you learned by 7)
Re: "Ian is 15 years old when he learns what hatred is."
I was a year or two younger than Ian when I knowingly first felt true hatred toward someone, that person being my adoptive father. I have my reasons for that hatred, namely the fact that he beat me daily with a heavy leather belt, sometimes twice a day because he COULD.
That hatred festered and eventually erupted, resulting in my telling him if he ever touched me again, I would kill him. I meant every word.
There was an incident when I was about 4.5 years old, before the adoption took place, that if I had remembered it at that time, would have turned to adamant hatred immediately. I didn't remember it then because it was so traumatic that my mind blocked it off for thirty years.
Wow......
I almost didn't make it through that - that's a very powerful chapter. So much remembrance for me here.
As to learning what hate is - knowing what hate is, Nd knowing how to hate are two different things.
Dallas
D. Eden
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus
Ouch
We've had this background before, but put so succinctly, it really has an impact.
-Tas