These People Are Torn - Chapter 7
Title: These People Are Torn
Rating: PG (because of violence)
Pairing: Belldom
Story Summary: Ever since the one he loved left him, Dominic Howard has been torn. In pure frustration and grief, he became one of the most skilled assassins in the land. But his next target brings up old memories; memories he's not sure of he wants to remember...
How could he have forgotten that it was still attached to his arm? What a complete idiot! If it had triggered somewhere else, Matt could have died, and it would be Dom's doing.
He was going to burst into Matt's house, as he felt like he had to do something, but then he remembered that glare. It was as if it meant so much, but he just didn't know what.
He had to escape that place. So much was going through his head. He felt dizzy, his head was spinning. He was breaking into a sweat and he felt like he was going to vomit.
The streets were filling with people, coming back from Sunday mass. There were too many of them. He found the nearest stall, and climbed on top of it, then jumped onto a house roof. He ran across the rooftops, jumping from house to house. The cool wind rushed past him, drying his damp hair and cooling the sweat off his body. It had been a long time since he'd gone for a run, but he used to do it when he was happy, like when Matt told him that he loved him. Or sometimes when he had something on his mind, Matt would find him on a rooftop. That was when they lived in the big city.
~
He'd lay on the rooftop for so long, that he had drifted off to sleep, only awaken by a soft touch on his stomach. His eyes fluttered open, and the blur in front of him came into focus. Matt.
"I thought I'd find you here." he said.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry about how I was before." he said softly.
"You should not be sorry! Look what I did to you!" Dom raised his right arm and touched the place where Matt's wound would have been. He had changed his shirt to a clean white one, but the bulge of where the bandages were was visible.
"It was an accident, Dom." he rest his warm hand on Dom's. "But there is something I would like to know, and that is why you have that blade." He eyed Dom's left arm.
Dom looked at his arm sadly.
"Show it to me." Matthew said, in barely more than a whisper.
Dom pulled up his sleeve, so the gauntlet was visible, and triggered the blade. It shot out towards the sky, it's tip was clean now, as Dom had wiped Matt's blood off.
"Are you really a bounty hunter?" Matt asked, his eyes meeting Dom's.
"I think you know the answer to that."
"Tell me what you are."
Dom swore he felt his heart stop beating. He couldn't lie to Matt, first because he cared about him, and second because there wasn't another lie which could cover this up.
"I am... an assassin."
Matthew's eyes widened, and he shook his head, frowning in confusion.
"No. No, you can't be. Not you. You couldn't."
"Matt, I'm telling the truth."
"Not you, Dom! You can't be!"
Dom reached out to take Matt's hand, but he pulled away, and stood up.
"No!" he shouted. "You're lying!"
His hands covered his eyes, and he collapsed into a kneeling position. His small body shook with sobs. It nearly killed Dom to see him this way.
"Matt,"
"I did this, didn't I? It's because of me." he cried.
"No! It was my stupid decision. Please, just listen to me, Matt."
Matt looked up and slowly moved his hands away.
"I was frustrated and broken. It was nearly a year after you left. I was still in the city, but I hated it there. Every memory of us was there and it killed me to see the places we had been together..."
~ Dom paced the busy streets. The market was so noisy, that it left barely any ability to think. He stopped occasionally at traders' stalls to look at their wares.
He looked at a weapon trader's stall. He had some very fine blades, but Dom did not have the money to buy them. Why would he need one anyway? If any thing was to happen, he still had the small dagger that was once his father's. He'd left it to him before he died, but Dom hadn't started taking it with him until recently. Some people were very untrustworthy in the city. Sometimes a gang would start a fight for no reason at all. It wasn't that safe, really.
Dom walked through a back alley. It was a short cut back to his home. He heard movement from behind him, and when he was just about to turn to investigate, he felt something touch his leg. He felt different... his coin purse was gone.
He saw the culprit sprint away, and he climbed up a nearby wall, making his way to the top. Dom ran after him, and climbed up the same wall as fast as he could. He pulled himself onto the roof, and ran after the thief, jumping from building to building. He was closing the distance between them. He was just a few feet away before he jumped and tackled the thief to the ground. Dom pinned him down, and he squirmed under him. Dom searched his pockets and found his coin purse, and ripped it out, placing it back in his own pocket. The theif took a swing and punched Dom in the cheekbone. In fury, Dom punched him back, straight in the nose. He could tell he had broken it, as it had lost its shape. The thief cried out in pain, but Dom placed his hand over his mouth.
"You think you can steal from me?" Dom hissed, but the thief refused to look at him.
Dom reached into his shirt and pulled out his father's dagger. The sun shone on the blade.
"Do you think you can steal from me?" Dom repeated, and held the tip to the underneath of the robber's chin.
He shook his head frantically, his eyes filled with fear.
"I will make sure you will never do it again." Dom spat, and he swept the blade across the thief's neck, slitting his throat.
The thief choked, and Dom watched the blood leave him, and his life leave him, until he finally lay still.
Dom got up, and looked at himself. He had blood on his sleeves, but he wiped the dagger with them and hid it back in his shirt. He heard the soft sound of single applause from behind him, echoeing between the walls of houses. He spun around, and saw a slim figure wearing peculiar black attire, with a hood covering his eyes. His hands met once more, before dropping to his sides.
"A fine kill." the figure said. "Where did you learn your art?"
"What?" Dom asked.
"Which guild are you from?"
"I am not from a guild... what are you talking about?"
"You do not know? You are not one of us?" the hooded man moved closer.
"I do not know."
"I am talking about assassins."
"Assassins? I am not an assassin." Dom said.
"By the state of that man now, just from stealing your money... it's an easy mistake to make." he said, gesturing towards the thief's body.
"I don't know what happened. I didn't think I would ever kill anyone."
"Here is a question for you: Do you regret killing the robber?" the hooded man asked.
Dom thought about the question. He looked at the body, and he looked back at the hooded man.
"No."
"Well, I think we could be friends. We could be... colleagues." the hooded man pulled his hood back, revealing a narrow face with slightly hollowed cheeks, surrounded by a curtain of black hair.
He held out his hand, and Dom shook it. "Manson, Marilyn Manson." the man in black introduced himself.
"Dominic Howard." Dom said, as he shook the cold hand. ~
"... so he took me to a place; his guild, where they trained people to be assassins. I trained for weeks; months, to be one of them. I belonged with them. They were my brothers and sisters in combat; in murder. We understood each other, and yet, we all had secrets that no one but ourselves knew. But Matthew, I realise now; now that I see you, that I made a mistake. This is not who I am."
"Who are you here to kill?" Matthew asked softly.
Dom paused. "Your cousin."