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22. The Story Of You

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There was a strong, even knock on the door and I went to it, thinking blind and not caring. Opening it revealed a young boy, young man, a hoodlum, a street demon, whatever you’d choose to call him. He was tall and dark in his features, though the red hair set him out from the world. Dressed entirely in black, his whole demeanor evoked a sense of sex and violence. I raised a brow at his lowered eyes and shadowy character.

“Can I help you?” I asked, nonchalantly. Ignorantly.

Click. Bang.

The. End.

After all the pain and madness, I met my end due to a lost little street demon with a whisper for a voice and fire in his eyes. My downfall? He was a Hunter.

These were the last thoughts that passed through my mind as everything started to fade to black, before my eyes closed.

A few things tried to cross my mind, but nothing would stay. As the last echoes died out, a few chilly words echoed in my mind.

“Trust me. Hurt. Me.”

And all else…was black.

 

Or so it seemed. The shot echoed down the hall, a shot that should have been fatal. It grazed off my shoulder, missing my heart by mere inches. Looking over my shoulder, I caught my daughter’s eye, confused and innocent. She was just a child. His eyes had locked onto her first, a mix of confusion and confidence locked within. Suddenly, he had a plan. Suddenly, I had a purpose. And he would see to it that I realized my potential.

With the same cold glance, he turned on a heel, seeming satisfied with himself. I collapsed on the ground, into my daughter’s waiting arms. She stared at the door mystified, unable to explain what had happened.

“Who was that, Mom?” Her words were shaky and unsure, trying to press blood back into my arm. I looked up at her casually.

“A Hunter, Cassandra. A Hunter. Remember to always keep your distance from someone who hunts for sport; they’ve no conscience left.”

And that would be the story of him.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Mister Corvis Hunter.

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