#OldStuff
#FreeWriting
#20YearsAgo
Honor
He couldn't get the vision of that night out of his mind. The look of pure terror in her eyes, the sound of her pleas for mercy. But the worst was the blood. It had been everywhere, and he had been told to stay under the bed and wait. That was all he knew how to do. When it had been all over, when the sounds of her screams had stopped echoing in that small bedroom he had held onto her tightly.
Now all he could do was get revenge. It was all he had left, nothing mattered now. He had looked everywhere for the man who had done it, taken the only person he had from him. The young boy held on to the lead pipe he had and saw the bastard. He was with a bunch of other guys, but that didn't matter. As long as that bastard paid for what he had done.
He ran at the guy, screaming as he swung the lead pipe at his knees. It connected, bringing the man down hard. He swung hard aiming for the man's head, only to have his wrist caught in the crushing grip of one of the other guys. He fought back, but he was smaller then them and weaker. That didn't stop him from trying.
“Fuck, that little bastard busted my fucking knee!” the man said.
“Little kids got some bite to him,” one of the thugs said.
“Think we should take care of him?” said another.
A gunshot rang out in the night, drawing all their attention. The boy hadn't noticed the faces of anyone except the focus of his revenge. All the men around him looked Japanese to him. He didn't care about the language they were using. An older man walked out, obviously someone who commanded the respect of the others. The way he held himself seemed to force the boy to share in that respect.
The man, obviously Japanese, kneeled in front of the boy. He asked, “What's your name?”
“Marcus Jackson,” the boy said. The older man looked him over. The kid was dirty, had dark hair falling in front of green eyes. He seemed to be of European decent, but the thing that caught the attention of the older man was the look in those green eyes.
“Why do you do this?”
“He took my sister from me,” was Marcus answer.
That was the look, the look of revenge. That it was fostered in one so young was not something the older man liked. He stood and spoke to the other men in Japanese. Marcus didn't know what was said but the thugs let him go. The older man then walked towards his sisters killer. Marcus couldn't understand the exchange. He did understand it when the Older man backhanded the younger.
“What will you do when you have taken your revenge on this man?”
Marcus just said, “It doesn't matter, just so long as she can rest in peace.”
The older man nodded, “And what was her name?”
“Mirium.”
The older man nodded again, then reached into his coat and took out a small gun. He held it out to Marcus and said, “Here, use this. Take your revenge on this man. Let Mirium rest in peace knowing her killer was brought to justice.”
The other man started yelling in Japanese, only to be ignored by the thugs who had helped him moments before. Marcus took the gun from the man and pointed it at his sisters killer. All he could think of as he heard the shouts from the man on his knees were Mirium's unanswered cries for help.
He pulled the trigger, and struck the man dead in the center of his chest. His grip was tight on the gun as the gravity of what he had done settled in. The older man placed his hand on the barrel of the gun and slowly lowered it. He took it from the boy and replaced it inside his jacket.
“You have defended the honor of your family this day. Do not feel remorse for what you have done,” the man said. He waved his hand at the other men, signaling for them to leave.
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