"You murderer!" he shrieked, "You killed her...You killed my mother!"
The old man turned again and looked him directly in the eye. "And so I did" he said calmly, happily, "What are you going to do about it, boy?"
The old man gave a deep guttural laugh and banged the door hard.
Kier sat up on his bed, nearly wheezing from the memory. He waited till his breath calmed down, and he stood up. He was seventeen now, emancipated, living alone in one of the biggest metropolitan cities in the world. But he still had trouble forgetting those cruel, clouded blue eyes which could mock him at will. True, he couldn't have done anything that day, but he wasn't the same helpless boy anymore.
He was so much more that a normal helpless human.
"Sleep, Kurt Descartes" he breathed to himself, "Sleep, it is better than having me bay for your blood. You need the peace. WE need the peace. The last nail had been driven into your coffin...Don't fight it...sleep."
Almost a lullaby, almost a prayer, sung to lull the man he hated the most into a deep slumber. He epitomized an angel that night - he loved the one who hated him.