Chapter One

Victor's POV

It was pouring heavily outside, the clapping of thunder and lightning beaming glinted on my father's face. He seemed more frightened than ever, as he stood there by the window, his eyes spelled worry while he held onto a nine millimeter in his left hand and a stick of kindled cigarette in the other, he was left-handed. The quiver of his fingers as he raised it to his lips and took a whiff of the cigarette before throwing the rest of it to the floor and stepping on it to kill the flames.

An eight-year-old me sat there and watched wondering why he seemed more tense watching the raindrops.

Suddenly, he swiveled and ran towards me taking me by the hand and shoving me into the fireplace.

" Stay right here and don't make a sound, okay son?" He whispered and I nodded my head.

As though he heard someone coming, he slowly advanced towards the door but before he could reach the door, it was kicked open by an unknown force as the door came unhinged from its frame and flew right across the room. With swiftness my father, turns and points his gun to the entrance and he slowly walked towards it, the thunderstorms made it scarier with each rumble I could notice my father appall even more Before he could pull the trigger, he was kicked from outside and I watched as he flew across the cabin, releasing a bullet into the air while he fell hard to the bare floor.

They were four men, brawny in size, each of them not less than seven feet tall, dressed in a combat garb. Wearing such hefty military boots, making such loud noises as they made their way into the room. They were carrying so much armory that I can barely remember, the samurai sword, the samurai sword was the only weapon I recognized because I trained with it. I could sense something bad was about to occur, I hid more into the darkness.

My father who was struggling to get off the floor as he groaned in pain twisted his neck and gazed towards my direction, he forced a smile on his face and shook his head gradually as those men approached him.

I saw as they tortured and maimed him brutally. I held my mouth so tight as wept for my wounded father. Just when it seemed that they had stopped hitting him, I noticed them turn and face the direction of the door as there was another presence in the room, with darkness consuming the entire cabin I struggled to see who it was, I tried peeking through a crack from the fireplace but I could barely see his face. I could get a glimpse of a tall figure, slender and covered in a cloak, he wasn't as huge as the other men but his voice roared when he asked one of them for the samurai blade.

" where is the boy Fredrick!" His voice rumbled.

" I'm not gonna say a word. So you might as well carry out the task that brought you here." My father chuckled but almost choked on his blood as they dropped from his mouth.

" Fine then, I will give you what you asked for, but don't think that I don't know where the boy is because I will find him, eventually."

" I'd like to see you try."

" No, you won't!" He walked towards my father and with a single hand grabbed his neck and lifted him off the ground. My father strumbled as he struggled to stand but then he put the blade on his neck and slit his throat. I watched in tears as my father's blood gushed from his neck, he dropped the blade and sprawled out his hand, apace one of the four men offered him a metal bronze cup which he placed below my father's slain throat and collected his blood in it. I cringed holding onto my two furrowed legs as My eyes shed tears of blood while I watched my father take his last breath as his lifeless body was dropped to the floor, his eyes were wide open staring right at me.

The man in the cloak titled his neck backward and takes a sip from the goblet. Slowly the cloak covering his face denuded revealing a strange mark on the side of his neck, like a burn. With the help of the radiant lightning, I was able to see the mark but not his face. He dropped the goblet to the floor and put the cloak back on his head.

Suddenly, the man in the cloak turned towards the direction of the fireplace where I had hidden, a few steps closer to me, the whistling kettle boiling on the stovetop woke me up as I jerked up from the couch.

The piercing pain I felt in my chest as soon as my eyes opened made me fall off the couch and landed hard on the bare floor. I could feel my heart rippling like it was about to burst, I had to reach for my tranquilizer so I held my chest with my right hand and trudged to the kitchen cabinet. I found the syringe the tranquilizer was in hastily stabbed my chest with it and released the content right into my heart.

A whiff of relief escaped through my breath as I fell back on the cabinet while still on the floor trying to catch my breath.

Recognizing his scent I tilted my neck to the right and my eyes met with Mr. Ron's, A man who has played a crucial role in my life, not just as a personal physician, but as a father, a friend, and the only family I had.

Ten years ago, he found and rescued a little boy who had lost everything including his faith in humanity, and had given up on life as he had nowhere or anyone to run to for his safety. I remember passing out in the middle of the thicket and waking up in a room with a man sitting beside me. He had this smile on his face that made me feel safe, there was so much empathy and care in his eyes for me when I gazed into them.

" You are safe here." He uttered in a calm voice. I don't know how or why but somehow I believed his words.

He never left my side and that little boy found a father again.

Though my life changed for the better living with Ron, one thing never changed. My amnesia and The trauma of the incident that occurred the night I lost my father, what happened to those men when they found me and tried to take me with them. I struggled so hard to get those memories out of my head, it felt as though the vigor in me couldn't contain itself any longer. I lose control of my body at a time, but once I was back to my normal self I fail to recall any of my actions or what happened before my transformation.

Countless times, Mr. Ron made me commit to numerous ruminations and Yoga, to help me recall but the only image I kept seeing was the one that kept on replaying over and over again in my mind like a dream, each time I close my eyes.

He found out, eventually, who I am the night of the full moon a few weeks after he rescued me.

I can't recall what happened that night but I can never forget his steady voice in my head calling out my name "Victor" nonstop. It was a name he gave me days after rescuing me, which means Superior. When I asked why he chose to call me "Victor," he said that it will remind him of the night he found me. He wasn't afraid of the critter inside of me and knowing that he wasn't scared of me, I felt safer and in control of who I am.