Trace
I look off into the distance, my father’s words repeating through my mind like a broken record. The sky is blue, and snow is coating pretty much anything, but I don’t feel the cold as I distractedly look toward the distance. The wooden porch swing I’m sitting in squeaks on its rusty hinges as I scrape my boots across the wooden floor.
I was a monster. My grandfather was a monster, my father was a monster, and I was no better.
I rub my chest, feeling a painful ache spread through my body. Am I like my father?
What kind of man has nightmares of killing a little girl and her mother? As a Marine and an Assasin, I’ve pulled quite an impressive body count and have felt very little guilt. Am I that depraved?
Jaw tight, I lean my elbows on my knees and close my eyes tightly.
“Hey,
