2 Prologue 2-Brooke Walters

1

When you save a person's life, you become admired by others. It is seen as a selfless act. An act that most people couldn't even begin to do, but if you were to do it, you are seen as wonderful for it. That is because the risks of doing so, to put yourself in harm's way just to save a life, or lives, other than your own, is considered stunning.

But, then again, that act for me is as simple as breathing itself. Although, it isn't exactly my choice as I am unable to never lend a helping hand to someone. If there is someone in danger, whether I would hate them or not, I would save them. Because I honestly think that I've never ever hated someone, or even loved someone.

And so, I save people.

No matter what.

This 'condition' I have started all the way back when I began my journey through the education system, Pre-K. Back when I was still trying to figure out what numbers were, a classmate was about to fall off their chair. Without a moment to spare, I flew to their rescue before they injured their selves.

With that, I was praised by the teachers.

With that, I was loved by the class.

However, I didn't see why it caused this type of reaction. I only saved a classmate. 'Nothing really praiseworthy', I thought at the time, 'Before we learn to count, we first learn to be kind and thoughtful of others. Therefore, it shouldn't be such an overreaction. It should be an afterthought at most.'

When I arrived back home and told my parents, they simply smiled and laughed at my naivety. My parents never really explained why, but I knew it was probably something I would learn when I grow up.

And that, I did.

And, I wish I still had that naive sense as a kid.

Escalating to first grade, when I finally learned how to add and subtract, that very classmate I once saved started to cause a ruckus in class. He started to insult others and ensure failure on everyone's part, no matter the task. Eventually, he started to behave like this toward the teachers, and my classmates couldn't take it any more. During the time between the grades, I became known as a helper to the people, so everyone encouraged my involvement. Having no other choice, I walked up to him in hopes of stopping such foolery.

When I did reach out to confront him, it was during recess out in the far corner of the playground. During all times of the day, he was always surrounding himself with people, except at recess. He would instead hide in that corner under a small tree, playing with misplaced sand. It's when I noticed, for the first time, the complexity of the situation.

He lied there, crying softly

He looked at me, like a mongrel who was abandoned.

I know I should have felt nothing towards him. He had caused constant trouble for seemingly no reason. Yet, it could not feel any hate towards him. That was when I discovered this 'condition' of mine.

The 'condition' goes as follows:

1. If the person hurting another is in pain as well, my attention shifts to them immediately. This only applies in the case I do not know the people involved, so my priority turns to them. However, if the person I know is hurting less than the one I don't know, I help them instead.

2. I do everything in power and beyond it to help the other person, even if my own happiness must be sacrificed

3. I cannot break the law when helping people.

I discovered all this when I, for the first time, failed to help someone.

Because, that poor mongrel, the first person I saved was someone unhealable.

He, Michael Kerr, seemed so ready to change. In his luscious, forestry eyes, I could see a spirit ready to march forward. Instead, he was marching forward on a dangerous path. Every day, I would sit with him at recess to discuss ways of changing. Michael thought everyone wouldn't accept his attempts at improvement, but I thought otherwise. We were taught as kids that expressing forgiveness would always give us a chance to change. To seek redemption and change would always be praised, just like my actions of assenting others.

But, simply no. That was wrong. Entirely wrong. When Michael started to help, complement, and apologise, he was met with outrage instead. The teachers may have believed him, but, to our classmates, he was met with nothing but disgust.

Eventually, instead of isolating himself at recess by choice, it was a matter of deportation from our class. I countered back at my class with rage, and many arguments began. The people who choose not to involve their selves only question my actions. Asking over and over why I was this involved in something I could merely stop by switching sides. No matter how they asked, my answer was the same.

"If I don't try to help Michael, then who would? If I don't try to have peace among everyone, who will? It's up to me to solve this and end it to rest without anyone suffering, and that's what I intend to do."

Yet, I simply couldn't. Stating soundproof arguments, enquiring about the teacher's help, and comforting Michael through his breakdowns, it finally ended in the worst way possible.

The devil's ending.

The one God never intended.

On the last day of first grade, when everyone looked forward to the summer, a fight broke out. Out of the twenty-five students in my class, thirteen were sent to the hospital and 3 were expelled.

The three were Michael, Tracey and I.

I never took notice of Tracey until that day. Tracey was always quiet in the class. Never answering questions or doing anything to cause attention. Here and there, he would help me in my so-called heroic actions, but, other than that, he did everything he had to do and talked with Asher Nelson. But something about that day when his emotions got the best of him, he punched Michael. Right in the jaw. Michael punched right back until the few people that finally came around to him-due to my efforts-came about and helped him. The other group went to Tracey's aid and fought on his side. It slowly turned into a full out brawl.

And, in the Brooke Walter way, I started to attack everyone. I had no idea who to help or what to do. I just let my body do the work. That led to my expulsion. It lent to my parents' disappointment, and the loss of my reputation. Not only that, I had to wait one year before I could re-enter first grade because of how small our town was. I couldn't even move and start fresh because my parents didn't want to leave their home just for my sake.

Hence, the bullying of almost everyone at school when I finally joined back.

Hence, the suffering of it all.

And nothing changed. Instead, Michael got worse and became the worst delinquent the town had ever seen. Forming a drug trade, starting gangs only to leave them and cause gang wars, and the growing mistrust of the community, no one was left happy.

I had failed.

But, Tracey became motivated.

Never before I had seen a man like him. A man was so determined and ready to take on the world itself. That made me admire him. He kept attempting to help everyone, and stop Michael's crimes where the police failed. When the police turned a blind eye, Tracey bought it to the forefront. The most impressive part was, that it was only him and Asher doing all this. Two people taking matters into their own hands with a noble goal in mind to save people. That made me suddenly ask him, to help him in any way I can.

So much so that my condition had a new rule in place:

4. When Tracey becomes involved, help him in any possible way.

While Asher was hesitant, Tracey welcomed my presence with open arms.

I became the right-hand man.

Under him, my unexplainable will to help people without a doubt in my mind had meaning. So much meaning that I had no shame in it anymore. My parents still disapproved, but Tracey made me forget them. He was all that mattered.

And, under him, because of Tracey, I finally corrected my sin. He somehow managed to stop all the school bullies that came about and ended Michael's reign in one single day.

So, I ask myself now, why is he here? Standing outside my doorway, looking like a homeless, beaten boy. Wounds and blood, everyone with a collection of old and new. His blond, curly hair messing and skunk of disgusting smells the rain couldn't hide. And why, oh why, did he start begging to be let inside.

This isn't the Tracey or the man I know. This isn't the man I followed. This isn't even the man who smiled so happily earlier today.

Even so, I moved my hand towards him to drag him inside the warm home I lived in.

Now, it's my turn to save him as he did for me.

Give him hope as he gave me.

~~~

2

My parents did not mind at all that Tracey was here. They got used to his reoccurring visits after a while. In fact, they stopped worrying about anything that had to do with me. Once I was old enough to look after myself, they taught me the tools to live very early on, so they won't have to talk to me. I cooked, cleaned, and took care of any affairs I had without their help soon enough.

At first, it bothered me to have-practically-strangers in my home. We were no longer a family, but roommates with a hierarchy. My parents would chat away with each other, but as soon as I entered, they stopped talking straight away. Granted, I got used to this behaviour, and it turned into a habit on all our parts. Maybe I could have tried and worked things out between us, yet I didn't do a thing.

Tracey did try his best. He forced conversation between us whenever there was a chance to. He would invite himself over to dinner, and push us to ask each other questions. However, it only works whenever he's here. When he's not, it goes back to the way it's always been.

Nonetheless, this was a time when I could communicate with them. They had a soft spot for him at least, so seeing Tracey end up like this was pretty disturbing to them. My mother took his clothes off as soon as he entered, while my father went to the phone. Tracey didn't mind the divesting, but he did cry out, "Don't you dare touch that phone!"

Even with the rude request, my father complied and put down the house phone. The only emotion I could tell from his face was understanding, something I longed to have, but forgave.

The entrance to our house was next to my parents' room. Tracey was then able to go inside and take a shower before I could finally figure out what was going on. Before he did, my parents did tell him that he was allowed to sleep over. Tracey only nodded and took his shower.

I, for one, walked up the stairs and into my room.

My parents and I shared no response to one another.

Our strained relationship did have one positive. I was given a whole floor to myself. Three rooms and one bathroom all to myself. We hardly had any guests besides Asher and Tracey, so they held two of those while I had my own.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, Tracey showed up with a clean white shirt that was obviously too big for him and small, black shorts. He looked at me and towards the bed, signalling permission to sit, which I granted. Tracey flopped down on the bed while I sat on my desk chair. He looked dead tired, honestly. I can't blame him because of today, but he looked far more tired than when I last saw him.

Unfortunately, I'll have to tire him further.

I need answers.

I took a small breath. "What happened Tracey?"

Tracey opened his mouth, paused, and finally answered with a story that I could never have imagined.

Dead bodies, his parents, disowned, heartbroken and then some.

I only rested on my chair while my heart kept hurting over and over. If words could squeeze an organ, that's what it felt like hearing all of this.

He finally finished his story, and stated, "And that's why we're going to bring them to justice." He grinned soberly.

And I could only say back, "No."

Plain and simple.

Tracey became severely puzzled. "But why not?"

"Because...this is all way too much for two homeschoolers to take on. Maybe what happened with Michael was too much as well, but we had years to figure all that out. This would take a lifetime to do, Tracey..."

Right now, my priority was to help Tracey, and bring them to justice wasn't it. I mean, if Tracey only found out about this now, they must be masterful in hiding such a big secret. Plus, the identities of the corpses were more on my mind. Oddly, he glanced over it like it didn't matter, but whoever those people were could have been the ones that finally discovered their crimes. And I also doubt Tracey actually looked around the house fully. He may have peaked in the areas, but who knows how many other people they killed. It's possible there were then more people killed.

I would point this out to him, but I honestly was too scared. It might motivate him more into all this, so I had to say that.

He looked in disbelief and turned his face down. He slowly moved up with small tears bubbling up.

"Are you seriously saying that after all, we've been through? Even if it took years, defeating Michael and all the school bullies in a single day should prove to you that we can do this. Think back to all the times we narrowly escaped death; disguised ourselves to infiltrate the gang's hideout, even if it failed fantastically! Think of everything we did, and now you want to say this might be too much?" Tracey looked back at me with anger. Something I only see him do with people he distrusts.

I nervously replied, "B-But that's all different from this! Not even Michael killed people! We're dealing with something bigger than us!"

Tracey looked at me with those tearful eyes once again.

"So even after beating Michael, we're still just two idiot children trying to do something beyond us? Even after beating him, God just has to make things worse and take our victory from us as He smiles? I'm not about to let years of work only go to such a small thing..." He started to sit up and moved closer to me. "If I really want to be the hero of justice, I have to do this. You weren't there. You didn't see the criminals' faces. Y'know what they thought they were looking at? A weak boy with idiotic ideas. Just like all the other adults we've known.

"But guess what? We'll show it to them! We did it once, we can do it again! Not only that, but we can take down bloody murderers like they're a bunch of schoolyard brats, and show this town what we're made of! I'll show them what God's hammer looks like! Remember Brooke?"

He held out his hand with his two front fingers together, while the others gripped tightly.

I know what he wanted me to do. Back in fifth grade, when I first joined him, Tracey came up with a name for us and a signal for us. It was supposed to show how deep our bonds went, and how we stood for all that was right in this world.

But now, he's doing it to make me join in. He knows how much he means to me. He knows he's cause it gave my life meaning. But, doing this, wouldn't help him. Would it?

If I go along with this, I can't go back.

I couldn't just leave after doing such an act that holds so many meetings for us.

If I go along with this, I have to help Tracey no matter what.

I would have to break all the rules of my 'condition' and feel nothing about it.

If I go along with this, I would be the one responsible for everything that comes.

Even if I truly did nothing wrong, no matter the results, I know I would be the one that caused it all.

So, would it help him?

I reach with my hand and press my front fingers towards him. Our fingers stretched out like two peace signs, touching.

Tracey had a look of pride on his face. "I knew you would understand and help me, Brooke. Thank you." He meant that from the bottom of his heart. But I couldn't hold the sentiment.

My heart was too busy trying to hold in the doubts and guilt of my choice.

It was if my whole body and mind were saying, 'We hope you made the right decision, or you might be destroyed.'

But that's fine with me.

Tracey's all I need anyway.

Without him, I wouldn't have a body or mind right now.

If I could tell everyone, and not just Tracey this, I would.

I smiled weakly and replied.

"Of course, my astray hero."

No going back now.

Prologue 2 End