After years of trying, he’d finally succeeded. He was finally going to have an heir. Harsh Smith was going to leave behind a legacy. Mary was not entirely useless after all.
Such was the beginning for Kieran Smith. There was no love, no hate, just a satisfaction of creating an heir. Oh, his father was happy enough about continuing the long and prestigious line of the Smith family but it was his mother who truly rejoiced. Mary Smith had wished for a child for so long, it was a lonely marriage and a colder bed so, she needed someone (anyone) to love, to care for, to live for.
Born out of the cold and raised by a mother who obsessed over him, Kieran never lacked for anything. He had only to say the word and his mother would try to get it for him. The same could not be said about the father, he barely had the time to look at his son let alone try to fulfill his every wish. The man who’d wished for a son for almost a decade had no time to actually raise said son.
There was only patter of feet and a resulting soft cooing of a mother.
“Please, Father, it’s my birthday. Don’t you want to celebrate it with me?”
Harsh Smith was not fit to be a father.
–
His boarding was supposed to be one of the greatest school in the country, or so he’d been told. It certainly didn’t look like much, the castle might have been acceptable but much of the crowd, not so much. He’d thought he’d finally belong and be able to be himself in school however, it didn’t seem likely. There were far too many flashy people, far too many students on scholarship and certainly far too many idiots around for that to happen.
He was in a good house at least, there were some standards left in some places. Kieran couldn’t have been sure about it but at least, there were some like-minded people about. Studies were utterly mundane, some of the coursework absolutely unnecessary. They were on such a basic level that Kieran sneered at the books whenever he looked at them.
Exams were almost a chore, something he didn’t think about too much. His father’s intelligence and wit had certainly passed down to him, along with an almost cold, calculating nature. There wasn’t much that escaped his notice and he made sure to keep track of things at school. There were always opportunities to show how very much superior to others he was. And he never lost a single opportunity.
However, no matter how good he was at studies, how quick he was with learning, nothing could garner a reaction from his father. He simply never had any time or that’s what he told Kieran. When he was younger, he used to accept it as a reason however as he grew up, he realized his father wasn’t really father-material. He was barely human-material. But knowing that and accepting that were two different things, and for all his intellect and cold exterior, there always remained the little boy who begged his father to celebrate his birthday with him.
And the father never listened.
–
Slowly but steadily, Kieran turned inwards. His mother’s love (Was it really love? She existed because he existed, he didn’t think that was love but what did he know?) wasn’t enough, his peers weren’t enough. He turned all his interests towards the things that started to make him happy. He stopped thinking about others, he stopped thinking about his mother, his family.
There were certain peers who he agreed with, who looked at and thought, ‘Maybe they aren’t so bad. Maybe they have the right idea.’ There were whispers, there were looks, a certain statement here, a subtle nudge there. He understood how it worked. He understood how to work it. And people, the right people, they noticed.
They welcomed him with open arms. Arms like a snake, trying to engulf and crush him, arms that had never reached him before, arms that he whole heartedly accepted. He finally belonged. He finally found his place in the world. They weren’t quite like him, not exactly like him but they were enough like him that he didn’t mind the differences. Some of them were brazen and crude but Kieran accepted them warts and all.
For once in his life, he did not crave his father’s attention; he did not want his father’s praise. He knew what he was doing was going to anger his father, he was going to be a disappointment but then, when hadn’t he been a disappointment? Had he ever been enough? He didn’t think so.
Now, Harsh Smith wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough for his son.
–
Paul Edwards. The drug lord of the county. The one king he did not mind bowing to.
He’d never accepted being less than someone and he wasn’t about to. He was, in fact, getting the opportunity to show the world, once and for all that he was better. In every sense of the word. There wasn’t a soul who could tell him that he was a disappointment, that he was a failure. Oh, no. He was praised for his work and he enjoyed it.
He got to let go of the inhibitions and he lived.
His mother was completely unaware, his father…well, he was as usual…busy with his all important work. But now, Kieran himself had an all important task. To carry out the directives from Paul. He was happy to do it and more. His work with the Shah family…it made him feel like a winner for the first time in his life, like all that he’d suffered, it was all for that moment when he got to enjoy draining the life out of the Shah family. He’d never really been for violence, always too busy cutting people with words and actions but he found solace in violence. Hurting people, it made him feel important, powerful in a true sense of the word.
He was almost sure there was nothing better.
He was coming into his own.
A Frankenstein’s monster, his father’s creation.
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Author’s note : I am very new at this whole writing thing. I hope it’s not too disappointing and riddled with errors. Any constructive criticism is welcome. After all, I have leagues to go when it comes to writing. Do tell if you want more of this. Also, are there any more tags that I should use? I would really appreciate the help!
This time I have tried to concentrate on delving into a character’s history and how it shaped him. I hope it wasn’t too cheesy or terrible.
bookwormmuse 