Hello, my loves! I just wanted to give a little heads up that if you have not read Bittersweet before or finished it, this oneshot might be a little confusing for you. If not, I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

I should probably feel guilty for the sins I've committed. It occurred to me at least once that the road I was on was not the best. The drugs, the money, the killings, it was not considered normal in society; especially for someone as young as myself. But the second I had this reflection, I looked down at the naked redhead draped across my lap and forgot what I had even been thinking about.

I was not a good man. But I never claimed to be.

A monster, she and many others called me. It was easy to place that sort of label on someone such as myself. After a while, it stops being an insult and more of a factual statement. But if I really thought back to it, life wasn't always this way. I wasn't always this way. Pinpointing exactly where everything took a left turn was difficult to say, but in truth, I'm not sure I was ever destined to go a different path.

+ + +

"I have good news for you, Holden," Mother informed as she pulled the hot loaves of bread from the oven. "You will be going to a different school in a few weeks."

As soon as the words left her mouth, I paused my reading to look up from my book. "I am?"

"Yes, darling."

"What for?"

"It's more suited to your education level." She nodded to The Odyssey in my hand. A book I considered to be light reading, something else entirely to her. "You won't have to feel like you are wasting your time in class anymore."

I gripped the edges of my book tightly. "But I like my school."

"I know, darling. But your father believes that this school will be even better."

"Oh, so he does exist." I rolled my eyes.

"Stop that, Holden." She snapped as she placed the second pan on the counter.

"It's true. He's never around."

"You know he is a busy man. He may have to travel a lot, but he does it to take care of us."

"Does he?" I grumbled under my breath but loud enough to make her frown.

"He does. But that's not the point. You are going to start Langstone next week."

At that, I couldn't hold back my emotions as I shouted, "Next week?! But that is so soon!"

"It's a blessing that we could get you in at all. Your father had to pull some strings, but it was possible."

"I don't want this school!"

"You might like it if you give it a try."

I scoffed. "I doubt it."

"Just give it a chance, my love."

Regardless of how kindly she was asking, I spat back, "I don't want to."

"Holden, please."

"There is nothing wrong with my current school."

"Don't you want to learn new things?" she asked as she pulled out the last bread pan and shut the oven door behind her. "Don't you want to feel more challenged and have intellectual conversations with those around you rather than having to dumb yourself down?"

"I don't mind having friends that are not like me."

"I know, darling. And I love you so much for that. But trust me when I say that--"

But I couldn't hear what she said when she suddenly released a loud gasp at the same time the pan she had been holding fell to the ground with a loud crash.

Immediately I stood up, ready to help, but she didn't seem to be in distress. At least, there was nothing I could help her with. Her hand was over her heart as if trying to steady it, her breathing went in and out evenly, which I always noted was a good sign.

Still, I called out, "Mum?"

"I . . . I'm okay, Holden," she said as she slowly straightened back up. "I'm okay."

I never believed her when she said this. Her face was always contorted in the look of pain. Her hands always shook as she tried to steady herself. Her smile always appeared painted on. But I never once challenged her on her words. Instead, I silently helped her pick the loaves of bread off the floor as if that would fix something. When we were done, she didn't look me in the eyes when she said, "You never know about this place, darling. You might love it there."

I looked down at the now spoiled loaves in the garbage can.

"Maybe."

+ + +

"Hey, you're that new kid!" came a voice nearby forcing me to lose focus on my book.

After I folded the corner of my page down, I looked up to see two older students from my new school standing above me. I was sitting in my favorite spot against a tree away from the playground. It was quiet and nobody would bother me. Until now.

"What's your name?" the freckled face boy asked.

I folded the corner page and answered, "Holden."

"Holden?" the fat boy echoed, only he made my name sound vile. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's the name of the main protagonist in Catcher in the Rye," I informed. "Although I do not view him as a hero like many, to me, he is still interesting."

"He's a what?"

"In where?"

"A protagonist from Catcher in the Rye," I repeated. "Have you not heard of the story?"

"Pfft!"

"Told you he was weird," snorted Freckles.

Ignoring his comment, I continued, "Well, technically it's a book. A classic boo--"

"Shut up. We don't care about some stupid book," the fat boy said as he knocked my book from my hands.

"Hey!"

"We care about that." They pointed to my book bag.

Confused, I looked up at them. "My backpack?"

"No you tosser, what's inside of it!"

"Oh," was all I could say. I suppose I should have known.

"We know you've got those fancy collectible cards in there, and we want some," Freckles sneered.

"But . . . they are not for sale."

"Ha! We're not looking to buy, Pea-brain," the fat one snorted.

"We want them for a discount of 100% off."

I thought about what they were suggesting. "And . . . if I don't want to?"

I discovered ten minutes later that was the wrong thing to say. I also learned that for a school that claimed to be so advanced in their social skills, the only form of communication around it seemed was with fists. So I listened to their requests, unsure of what else to do. And while I had many fantasies of sticking up for myself, I shot them down almost as quickly as they came.

+ + +

"What is that mark on your face, Holden?" Mum asked from across the dinner table.

"I had an accident in gym," I answered while carving into my steak.

"You have been getting into a lot of accidents."

To that, I just shrugged but she didn't deem it as a fit answer. Instead, she turned her attention to our guest of honor tonight, Father, to give him a knowing look. If he was supposed to react or acknowledge her, he didn't, and instead motioned to our servant for more liquor. I figured the subject would drop after that, but later that night I was surprised to find Father in my bedroom, facing the window with his hands behind his back.

"Who are they?" he asked as I entered the room.

I paused unsure of what to say before replying, "I beg your par––?"

"The kids who keep giving you bruises, who are they?"

I had two options in this moment: to lie and pretend like nothing was wrong, or to confess and have him disappointed in me. While the former seemed safer, I knew he wouldn't feed into my crafted words like Mum. So there was no other way around it.

"Adrian and Kevin."

A pause. "For how long?"

I thought about it. "Since my first day."

His response came even slower this time, still with his back to me. "I could stand here and tell you to defend yourself, but I know you. You have your mother's heart. You'd rather fight with kindness than fists." He looked at me from over his shoulder. "You are weak, Holden."

I expected it and yet that didn't make the blow any easier. Not knowing how to reply, I remained silent while he continued.

"Knowing you, you will let those boys continue to walk all over you until the end of time before you stand your ground. And I could stand here and try to talk some sense into you like your mother wants, but I know that would be pointless. What it really all boils down to, is this." He turned completely around this time to face me as he said, "Where you lack in strength, you make up in skill." He nodded to the many bookshelves that lined my room.

"You've read hundreds of books, many, I imagine, with mighty heroes. They get the job done, but think about this for a second, do they all save the day alone? Or do they have someone to help?" He started walking towards me as he continued, "Do they need someone to assist when the hero couldn't? Someone who had talents that filled in areas the hero could not? Not always do you see the day saved by just one man, but by multiple." By this point, he stopped in front of me and looked down directly into my eyes to say, "With the right skills, you could have assistance in your battles too."

+++

It was those words that kept me up all night. Those words that, if I really thought about it, could be the foundation for a long, dark, and promising road that was too tempting to ignore. Perhaps I should have ignored him. Perhaps I should have written him off as a drunk that was only a part-time father. But instead, I found myself poisoned by those words, let them seep into me, until I was there the next day standing in front of a group of older kids at school with a wad of bills in one hand and my heart thrumming in my chest. Coaxing them into my plan wasn't difficult when you had something worth their while. A promise. A bribe. It was then that I understood that's all it took to have someone fight your battles for you.

In this case, it was all it took for the group to show Adrian and Kevin they weren't the only ones who knew how to use their fists. After that day, they stopped coming around and the bruises never returned. That made Mum happy, but I couldn't help but feel guilty every time I looked at her. How would she react if she knew what her son was truly doing behind her back?

Then again, that wasn't the worst of what I have done. The bribing, the money, the threatening didn't stop with Adrian and Kevin. Instead, I took Father's words and ran with it by honing in my charismatic skills and sneaking bills from Mum's purse. I told myself every time that it was a necessity, that this was going to be the last time. And yet, I found myself returning until I could afford it on my own. The power that came from slipping a bill in someone's hand was divine. It was like the equivalent of having your wishes granted every single time, and I couldn't stop asking for more. By the time I reached high school, nobody even dared to look at me wrong. I practically had the entire school eating out of my hands. For those years spent in school, I was on top. I was the master. I thought that was how the rest of my life would look.

Until it happened.

+++

It was odd knowing the woman who made me breakfast every morning, the woman who knew how to truly make me smile, the woman who truly loved me, was only six feet under where I stood now. Her body, the same body that gave birth to me, the same body that was in my arms a few days ago, was in a casket piled under dirt and soil, frozen in sleep. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I didn't want to think of what I was supposed to do now. How does life move on after losing someone so pure? How is someone supposed to keep going as if nothing was wrong? It was impossible for me. But for others, it seemed like just another day.

Father lit his third cigarette before looking down at the gravestone, then me.

"Have you packed your things?"

I kept my eyes trained on two dates on Mum's grave. She wasn't even in her fifties yet. Her hair had barely started to gray. The only sign of aging was the wrinkles that appeared around her eyes when she smiled, which was often.

I heard a groan nearby. "Look, we don't have time for all of this. We have to leave in a couple of hours for Florida. Either you fly with me, or get your own plane. You're old enough."

Something in his tone sent a raging fire through me. "Can you just give me one godforsaken minute? Some of us are mourning."

He finished off his cigarette before letting out a large puff of smoke. "You've never been good at acting tough. Don't try to start now."

+++

That was the last thing he said to me over Mum's grave before leaving for America. He didn't want to waste a second before getting on the plane and for some reason, he viewed Mum's burial as an inconvenience more than anything.

I couldn't find myself to be so eager. I lingered, still trying to figure out how the disease took her away so quickly and violently. Right before my eyes, I watched helplessly as my mother deteriorated. After all that time of becoming the most powerful man, I was useless against her demise. And although I promised myself I would be okay knowing she was at peace now, I was never good at keeping promises.

Florida was terrible, humid, and smelled bad. There were probably better sights to see than my ceiling, but I wasn't ready to go out. I must have been in there for too long when Father dragged me out and gave me the rundown of a new job I was to do. One that would promise money, mischief, and above all, power. To say it was odd was an understatement. After years of my father being an absent figure in my life, working with him on a daily basis was a strange change of pace. And the things he asked of me changed the way I viewed him even more. Finally, I discovered what he had been doing during his time away when he abandoned our dinners or games or other events, and it wasn't pretty. I couldn't help but wonder if Mum ever knew or how she would react if she found out. Yet still, I pushed my wariness to the side knowing it was useless and pulled myself together as much as possible before marching to my first assignment located in a very odd place.

+++

"And you want me to train this John guy for . . . how long?" asked the tall former wrestler as he tied back his long, dark hair.

I looked around the training room that was filled with men three times my size and tried not to feel self-conscious. "If you do it well, only six months. Really it's a win-win situation, Mr. Reynolds. You get to pass on your skills to an underling while making a hefty sum of money."

"That's what confuses me," he admitted. "Why would you want to pay me that much to train for a few months?"

I flashed my best smile. "Typically when an opportunity such as this is given to a man with a dying career, such as yourself, they don't ask this many questions."

"I have to be cautious. For family purposes."

"I see. What would ease your mind?"

He was quiet for a moment as he thought of an answer before he replied, "I want you to promise that this will remain short-term. Only on weekends. And I see the money in person."

The edge of my lip curled up right as I extended my hand. "We have a deal."

It took him a second before he clasped his large hand in mine and shook firmly. I understood then why my father wanted me to have this job. After my years of bribery, there was no deal I couldn't talk someone into. The only problem was I was never good at keeping promises.

+++

My next major assignment came a few years later. By this point, the man I was when I talked Jason Reynolds into his contract was completely different. The things I had done, the people I had hurt, or had someone hurt, if mother saw me now. . .

Interestingly, my next client was also located at an odd location. But even more interesting, it was cleaner than the first.

+++

"So you just want the image of a bird?" asked the tattoo artist, and my target, for the second time.

I eyed the man covered from head to toes in his own tattoos as I replied, "If it's not too much trouble."

"Nah, that's nothing." He scratched his bearded chin. "Do you know where you'd like it located?"

"My hand." I pointed to the exact spot. He let out a low whistle.

"This your first tattoo?"

"Possibly."

"Okay. Well, to be honest, anywhere you get tatted won't feel good. But that's a pretty sensitive area."

I flashed him a smile. "I think I can handle it."

+++

He went down easier than the last. But a man with dying dreams always made for the best targets. It was amazing how you mention a certain amount of money and their eyes suddenly come to life as if for the first time. What I learned from my position was this: everything can be solved with money. All of your troubles can be resolved with a bit of cash. Guilt, yearning, desire, even loneliness. It was the magic cure-all that only few were able to obtain. Including myself.

To celebrate my success that night, I used such assets to obtain a nice little redhead that liked to warm my bed every night. I saw her at a nearby club dancing her own sort of rhythm that caught my attention immediately. Our eyes met from across the room, and it was over. She was mine.

After that purchase, everything was going well. I knew from years of experience how to handle any situation so there was nothing that went astray. I knew the right people to send in, the way to break them down until they begged for forgiveness. I knew all the ways to strip away man's power and devour it for myself. I was back on my high, not planning on coming down, when I made one miscalculation: Gage Rivers.

+++

"You let him live?!" barked Malcolm Devenue, my boss and father's best friend.

"I made a sound decision to let him take over the debt so we can continue profiting," I explained, sitting behind his large desk. I tried to keep the level of my voice even as I explained, "It was for the best of the Flock."