| 𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙙𝙖, 𝟭𝟴𝟰𝟱 |

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 was clear from any clouds. A slight humidity was present to signal the autumnal time of the year. Canada was known to be really cold on winter, so all the people were getting ready to face it the best they could: some would save the few money they had in order to buy a coat, some wood for the fire...but not many had enough luck to be able to even save money. But it's not in a poor environment that our story takes place in, no: our story opens up in the Howlett lodge, one of the biggest mansions in the northwest area of the Canadian land, owned by John Howlett and Elizabeth Hudson, two rich spouses that were known for their kindness and fairness to those who were unluckily poor. They would go to every charity event, donating a generous amount of money to everyone who was in serious need. Working for them, they had a gardener, Thomas Logan Creed, a man that was the furthest from what the spouses represented. A greedy, treacherous man who was not a stranger to episodes of drunkenness or violence, or even both at the same time.

In the large household, in a large room lit by a fireplace, were two children, two young boys. One of them was sitting on a bench, sharpening his nails with a knife: the gardener's son. The light emanating from the fireplace was lighting his face, showing clearly his frowned expression, his dark eyes lost in thinking and full of resentment. Pieces of human flesh transformed in nails were being chopped in a precise and clean way, like if the boy was used to utilize his knife in such a way. He was dressed in clothes that were all but expensive: a pair of dark shoes and pants, an old shirt and an old beige dress jacket. On the other side of the room was laying ill on a huge bed, coughing, the second boy. He was significantly younger than the first one. The youngling was wearing long white pajama pants and, over his equally white shirt, a deep red robe. The clothes he was wearing, just as the the older boy's ones, were a clear indicator of his wealth: one of the most precious and warm types of cloth that was possible to find in that period of time. It despite his warm garments, the boy couldn't seem to manage to warm himself up, as he was desperately clenching the white sheets covering him, in hope to calm his coldness and stop his pearly white teeth from clattering. His long dark hair were damp in the sweat his body was emanating, an attempt of his system to balance the high temperature his fever brought. A few droplets of sweat fell from his wet locks on his forehead and descended down his young and beautiful face, which was also covered in a layer of sweat, reason why those drops didn't bother the young boy too much. The silence of the room was being constantly interrupted by the boy's heavy coughs. The young lad was used to situations like these: him laying ill in bed and his older friend keeping him company.

The boy with the knife raised his head and looked at his coughing friend, then asked him with an unreadable expression on his face

???: "You're always sick?"

The ill boy moved his gaze up towards his childhood friend and answered between coughs

???: "You were sick when you were my age."

Suddenly the wooden door opened with a loud noise, revealing John Howlett. As soon as he noticed him, Thomas' son stood up and quickly hid the knife behind his back. He nervously looked at the man in the eyes and respectfully greeted him

???: "Evening, sir."

The man looked over the boy, not noticing the sharp object behind his back, and greeted him with an equally formal, yet cold tone

John: "Evening, Victor. I didn't realise you're still here."

After uttering those words, he started walking towards the large bed, where his son was laying, and sat down in front of him on the edge. The older boy, Victor, followed the man with his piercing gaze and answered him

Victor: "I'm just keeping James company, sir, if that's all right."

Mr. Howlett merely turned a bit his head to his right and glanced behind at Victor, slightly nodded his head and replied with the same formal and cold tone

John: "Very kind of you."

The truth was that Mr. Howlett never really liked the gardener's son. Every time he glanced at the boy, every time he saw or heard him, every single time in many ways he remembered him Thomas, a man Mr. Howlett was not fond of. Since James' birth, the man was more and more angry and indisciplined, mostly towards him. It was no secret in the household that Thomas Logan was losing control more and more. To worsen the situation, the more young James grew up, the more he looked worringly a lot like Thomas, this driving Mr. Howlett to the point of being extremely paranoid whenever Thomas or his son got even a small step near his beloved and innocent child. He did think about sending the man and his son away, and many times he was really close to do just that, but there was always something stopping him before he did it. Or rather...someone. If the young James' resemblance to Thomas and the man's continuous rageful and drunk episodes were enough reasons to fire the man and send him away, the fact that John's own wife Elizabeth was the one stopping him each time was just the last drop in the sea full of suspicion and paranoia that was the Howlett household.

John brought his attention back to his son and, caressing his delicate and rosy cheek, asked him with a sweet voice and a friendly smile on his face

John: "Are you better, son?"

The young boy smiled at his father's display of affection towards him. One more thing to know about John Howlett was that, opposite of what other men his time used to do, he wasn't too keen on keeping from showing his son how much he cared for him, even in public. The bond between father and son was particularly strong, so much so that the conversations the two always had were by no means tampered with the formality normally kept between a father and a son. For that, little James was sure that he was the luckiest child in the world for just having a caring dad like his. The bond with his mother was just as strong, with her showing her son the benefits of cooking, despite the kitchen being considered at the time a place where only a woman should've stayed or, for the high class members like them, a place where only the servants were meant to work in. But Elizabeth and John were fixated on breaking the barriers the society built. And, ironically, that was one of the reasons the Howlett family was looked up so much by the other noblemen of the high class. The young boy kept his smile as he answered his father with a shivering voice

James: "Still cold, father."

John placed the back of his hand on James' forehead, checking if it was hot, and it was indeed, but just a bit

John: "It's just a mild fever: you'll be all right in the morning."

James smirked at that and replied

James: "You always say that."

And at this, his father answered with a smirk of his own

John: "And you always pull through, don't you?"

James gave his father a happy and decisive nod. During their exchange, Victor was watching with jealousy the relationship between James and his father, secretly wanting to be loved in the same way by his. A bond that, unfortunately, was the complete opposite of what was actually present between the two of them. The more Thomas kept drinking, the more he let his anger out on his son. This situation going on for years and years, until the light Victor had in his eyes, similar to the one that young James had, completely shut off, anger and resentment taking its place. Mr. Howlett smiled again at his son and told him

John: "Now...take your medicine."

Truth was that young James, for all his life, had always been weak because of his continous illnesses and allergies. As said before, he was no stranger to situations like the one he was now. His condition didn't surprise him, as a long time ago he heard his parents talking about how his older brother even died from an illness still unknown for the times. For the little boy life wasn't as easy as one would expect it to be for a kid born in wealth. Still, despite his poor medical conditions, he couldn't be happier: he had a loving mother, a caring father, a nice home, and a friend that was like a brother to him. All in all, the world wasn't that dark.

The sweet moment of tranquility shared by the three of them was broken when, suddently, loud bangs and thuds were heard, along with angry shouts from downstairs

???: "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

Anybody would expect them to be terrified by those shouts of pure rage that were being heard, but the look of annoyance and anger in Mr. Howlett's eyes clearly showed that the members of the household were no strangers to these outbursts. Without moving his gaze from the spot on the ground he was looking at, John directed his next words to Victor as he said

John: "Your father's drunk again, you should help him home, Victor."

But the boy was rooted in his spot, not moving an inch, as he looked at the man and replied

Victor: "It's not my name he's calling, sir."

After that, John stood up abruptly and quickly headed for the door, escorted by Victor. But the two of them were stopped by young James' voice

James: "Father!"

Said the young boy, trying to stop him, but Mr. Howlett raised a hand, motioning him to stop as he said

John: "Stay where you are, James!"

Then he got out of the door with Victor, who shared a last worrying look with James before closing the huge door. The young boy called his father one more time

James: "Father!"

Fear. That's what the young Howlett was feeling at that moment. Fear of not knowing what was happening, of not knowing what to expect. In those moments his fever, his sweaty face, his cold...all of this didn't matter anymore, because even if this wasn't the first time that Thomas Logan Creed was drunk, this time it felt different, as if something terrible was going to happen very soon. And, just a few seconds later his father exited the room, he heard even more shouting from him

John: "I told you never to come back here!"

James breathed fast in those few seconds. In that little time he couldn't think about anything but what was happening, and then...he heard a shot.

The young boy jumped off the bed and ran towards the door, opening it, and then ran outside. From his balcony, he saw below a terrifying scene: Thomas Logan helding his mother back by her arm on the right side, his father on the ground with blood exiting from his mouth, and unable to move on the left side, while Victor stood horrifingly watching. James ran down the stairs and kneeled beside his father who, turning his head to his right, saw his son's scared face. He wanted to reassure him, to tell him how much he loved him, that he was proud of him, and that he didn't have to be scared...but his end was near, far too near to say all those things, and he knew it. So the only thing he could do was to grab the fabric of James' red robe, making his boy look at him in the eyes, eyes full of fear and regret, regret for not being able to stay with his precious boy and his kind wife any longer

John: "James..."

Was all that he could say before laying back down and die.

Both James and Victor watched in horror what happened before their eyes, but Thomas wasn't faded at all, and with extreme calmness said to James, with a shotgun held in his right hand and Elizabeth's arm held in the other

Thomas: "James, there are things you don't understand-"

But the woman interrupted him with an evident terror in both her voice and her expression

Elizabeth: "Don't..."

But Thomas kept on talking, this time to Elizabeth, with venom in his voice

Thomas: "I want him...them to know!"

The young James watched helplessly as two people he knew all his life started to fight in front of him, after his father just died. The boy was too shocked to emit a sound or to shed a tear, so he simply stood there

Elizabeth: "Please no!"

Little James didn't know what to think, or what to do. But he did know what he was feeling: fear, confusion, pain...rage. The latter being the emotion that slowly became the most prominent one each passing second

Thomas: "No...more...lies!"

Then something happened: all the pain, suffering and rage James was feeling revealed something that was hidden inside of him for all his life.

Elizabeth: "James..."

Slowly and painfully, six bone claws started coming out from between his knuckles. James could feel the sharp bones slowly moving inside of him, piercing his flesh and coming out. The boy could feel everything, and it was painful, but strangely this pain only made him more enraged. Everyone watched horrified and scared, unable to move, too much paralyzed to do anything. All the rage inside the little boy grew and grew until, as if it was second nature to him, James threw a shocking battle cry

James: "UHNOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Then he pointed the claws to Thomas, and ran straight to him. Thomas instinctively tried to shoot him with his shotgun, but Elizabeth moved it away, and James pierced his body with his new sharp claws. Elizabeth watched in horror at what happened and shouted at his son

Elizabeth: "James!"

Blood started pouring from Thomas' wounds and mouth, while he tried to gather enough strength to tell James what he desperately wanted him to know

Thomas: "He...he wasn't your father..."

James' rageful expression turned into confused and scared as he listened to the dying man's words. Slowly he pulled out his claws, all the while looking at Thomas, who was trying not to suffocate in his blood for enough time to utter one last word

Thomas: "...Son."

After that, Thomas fell dead, while James looked in horror at what he did. He was confused, angry, and he felt betrayed. His father's suspicions revealed to be true: his mother really had an affair with Thomas, and he was the fruit of that sinful act. Scared, he looked at his mother, who at this point didn't hold anything but horror for him as she asked

Elizabeth: "What are you?!"

A monster. That's what young James thought he was: a mere monster. After hearing those venomous words coming out of his mother's mouth, a woman that for all his life showed him love, but now held none, little James could no longer stay there, so he left and ran through the gates, in the forest. Unbeknowst to him though, Victor followed him and tackled him down, stopping him. James thought he wanted to fight to avenge his father, so he got in an improvised battle stance

James: "I didn't mean it! I didn't-"

But Victor interrupted his friend, that now he learned to be his brother, and said

Victor: "Yes, you did! He deserved it, and you gave it to him."

He then got in front of James and put his hands on his little brother's shoulders

Victor: "We're brothers, Jimmy, you realise that? And brothers protect each other. You have to be hard now, hard that nothing can't ever touch us."

Victor realized the gravity of the situation the two were in now: they were not normal kids, and soon everyone would've known that, most of all since Elizabeth Howlett seemed to be looking for vengeance, given the venom in her eyes and the lack of love in her words. The two brothers only had each other now, and they couldn't afford to be weak or to have soft spots: they would've spent their entire life running, hiding, stealing, and killing if they wanted to survive. The sixteen year old boy kept his gaze fixated on his nine year old brother, who couldn't yet comprehend the entire situation they were going through, as he asked him with tears in his eyes

James: "I want to go home."

Victor understood James' point of view: the little boy had only known love and kindness since he was born in this world. The child didn't know how evil people could be, but the teen did: he knew that, if his own father didn't show him even an ounce of love and affection, he couldn't expect strangers to do it. It was the harsh reality: they were alone, and they had a home no more, they only had each other. As James stared at him in the eyes, Victor told him

Victor: "We can't. We stick together, no matter what, and take care of anyone who gets in our way. Can you do that, little brother?"

James only managed to nod. Now the friend that he considered to be like a brother, revealed himself to be indeed his true brother, and he wouldn't lose him. Now he understood: the two of them were monsters, and they needed to stay united, to stay together in order to survive. And he and his brother would have survived to this cruel and merciless world. They would've been together through it all, no matter what. Victor turned his head to look in the distance and saw lights coming towards them: people were looking for them. He turned to look at his brother and said

Victor: "They're coming. Can you run?"

James nodded with a new determination running inside of him

Victor: "Okay."

The two brothers started running together

Victor: "Keep on running, and don't look back!"

Those words would have stayed in James' mind for all his life. In that moment he understood that being different meant that the world would've never accepted him: he would have to run, steal, and kill to survive. Little did James know how much right he was...