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The angel of Peace

Jakob was the son of two parents. But Jakob’s parents were evil. Jackob’s parents hurt him. They cursed him and hated them. They throw him down the stairs when he was four. They locked him in the basement when he was six. They starved him and beat him on a regular basis. But, they never went far enough to kill Jakob.


When Jakob was twelve, they introduced him to the mask. It was a masquerade mask, with glass lenses over the eye holes. They put pictures on the lenses. They put sinister pictures on the lenses. Evil pictures. Pictures of Jakob’s worst fears. So Jakob went insane.


One day, Jakob’s mother was cooking his father dinner. In the grimy corner of the kitchen, Jakob was laying in the corner, crying softly. He had the mask on again. His worst fears were right in front of his eyes, and he couldn't get rid of them. The mask was stuck to his face with a special glue, that could only be removed with heat, so Jakob could never take the mask off. Only the lenses could be switched out, but Jack was always too petrified with fear to get rid of them. When his mother was done making his father a sandwich, she told him to take the sandwich on a tray to his father in the living room. She took the lenses out. The last thing he saw in his mask was a wolf, killing him. So Jakob took the tray to his father.


“I bought you dinner, sir.” Jakob said timidly.
“Hmph.” His father grunted, his eyes not leaving the tv.

A sadistic smile spread across Jakob’s mouth. He grabbed the knife off the tray, and with skill no one knew the scrawny Jack possesed, slashed the knife across his father’s throat. His father’s throated spurted blood, and a horrified, hopeless expression passed over his face. Jakob had slaughtered his father. And he loved the feeling of watching life leave someone who hurt him.

Jakob went back to the kitchen. His mother called him over. With his hands behind his back, Jakob slowly trudged over to get the lenses put back in. When he stood before his mother, he slowly tilted his head up to face her. She sneered maliciously down at him. Then swiftly, Jakob stabbed a knife deep into his mother’s abdomen. Her face grimaced in pain and horror. Jakob stepped back, sneering at her.

“How does it feel b****?” He hissed. “To feel totally helpless and afraid? Alone and scared?” As Jakob spoke his voice rose in malice, and he began to screech; “How does it feel b****!?!?!?!”

His mother was not dead yet. She staggered over, and hit him in and swung a pitcher at Jacob's head. He ducked, and leaped at her. Miraculously, the knife had missed all of her internal organs. She pulled the knife out of her abdomen, and slashed at him. Jakob, on instinct blocked with his arm, and his left forearm was lacerated superficially. Swift as a wolf, Jakob darted into the living room, where the corpse of his dearly departed father lay slumped in his recliner.

Jakob bounded over to the gas fireplace and grabbed a fire tong, and swung at his mother, whose was close behind. She swung again with the knife. Jakob ducked, side stepped, and swung at his mother. She backed up, and he hit the poker on the side of the fire place, which ignited the gas fireplace's spotty gas line, causing an eruption of gas and flames. Jakobs mother was hit in the back, and the explosion threw her into jakob, and nocke him to the floor. Her lifeless body cover Jakob’s lithe body, save his face. The flames of the furnace roared out and scorched the mask and glue off of Jacob's face, and signed away his hair to his scalp. Jakob wanted to cry out as the melted glue dripped down his face, leaving blotchy white marks on his face.
When the explosion was over, Jakob had only one thought on his mind. Safety. He crawled out from under the decimated corpse of his mother. She was so burned, all evidence of their fight was destroyed. The same went with his father. His living room was burning around him, and soon the rest of the house was ablaze and Jakob scampered out the door to the house across the street. On his way, he forced himself to cry, and rehearsed his story for the police.

ONE YEAR LATER
Jakob now lived with his loaded, estranged aunt on Ocracoke Island, North Carolina. She lived in a urbane island town house and had little time for her nephew, but she treated the wiry thirteen year old far better than his parents.

Jakob appeared like a normal thirteen year old boy, save the the white blotches on his face. He went to eighth grade on Ocracoke Island. He went to the beach and ate seafood. He thought about girls. But this was all a facade. His psyche had been scarred permanently by the trauma he experienced. And Jakob couldn’t take it any more.

FBI SURVEILLANCE VAN, OCEON FARRY



special agent Amy Ciccone was bemused. This was a very new feeling for her.
“What kind of killer carves a peace sign on to their victim’s back…” She muttered aloud as she brushed a lock of her short blonde hair out of her face.
“Where are we on the info on the victim Chelsea?” Amy asked.
Chelsea Bono, a strong willed woman with long, curly black hair and chocolate brown eyes replied;
“The victim's name is lester Winters. He was a drug dealer, with a history of trying to hook kids. He was suspected of dealing on Ocracoke, but the local police could never get any hard evidence to stick.” Chelsea replied.

On Ocracoke, another dead body hit the ground.

OCRACOKE ISLAND

“Well it was definitely a murder.” The ME said nonchalantly.
“He was stabbed thirty seven times. The killer targets his kills in a furry, striking out violently.” Isabel Santiago, the petite hispanic ME continued. She doubled as the team’s pathological psychologist as well.
“Was their any useful evidence?” Chelsea asked impatiently.
“Actually there was.” Isabel paused before she continued. “Your killer left behind a fingerprint.”
“Any matches?” Amy inquired.
“Yes. Thats the disturbing part. I matched the fingerprint to a thirteen year old boy who lives on Ocracoke.”
“Why are his prints even in the system?” Chelsea asked.
“His name is Jacob Weller. His parents died in a gas explosion when he was twelve. Before the police determined that the explosion was an accident, he was a suspect. That’s why his prints are in the system.”
“But-” Amy started before Isabel cut her off.
“I called the lady who Jakob went to after the explosion. She didn’t mention it to the police at the time, but she thought Jakob killed his parents. She believed that they were physically and emotionally abusing him, but she was never sure.”
“Ok. Lets go get our killer.” Amy ordered.

Amy, in full combat gear with her gun drawn kicked in the door. Jakob’s terrorfied aunt shrieked in fear. They proclaimed that they were the FBI, and demanded to know where Jacob was. She stuttered out that he was in his room. They charged up the stairs.

Chelsea slammed his bedroom door open in time to see Jakob diving off his room’s balcony and into the inclement see below.
“Damnit!” hissed Chelsea.

Jakob swam ashore on a remote beach. They were on to him. His twisted psych told him to continue. He MUST continue to destroy the wolves of the world.They hounded the innocent, and feasted on their tender flesh, so that their coats grew slack in fat and blood.

They weren't people. They couldn’t be people. His parents sure as hell weren't people. They were evil. They were wolves. And he was a shepherd, protecting his flock. The flock of innocent, sweet sheep that the wolves seduced with sycophancy and sweet words. Then the struck mercilessly.

Lary was nothing. He was drug dealer who targeted teens. He gave them free drugs to get them hooked, so they came back for more. So they needed him. Jakob was doing the world a favor. It wasn’t murder. It was putting down a threat, killing vermin, protecting the flock. Jakob was a warrior slaying dragons. He was an angel of God, banishing devils.

Underneath the starry night sky, covered in sand, grime, and water Jakob started to laugh. He cackled with joy. He had beat his parents. They had forced him into a corner with hate and malice, and he struck back. And now he was standing up for those who couldn’t strike back. He laughed and laughed and laughed. Soon however Jakob was on his way to a houseboat in the harbor. He had to pay someone a visit.

Aaron Lancaster was scum. Unfortunately he was rich scum. He was scum who had connections, scum with the right friend. He was also scum with a trophy wife name Elaine. And everyone knew that he hit her. Sometimes they called the cops, but money turned the boys in blue away, and Elaine's ship of saft turned around before she could swim to it. Until that night. Jakob was a ship of safety.

Aaron walked into his study to find a little boy with long, stringy, gray hair sitting at his desk in a grey hoody with his bare feet propped up on his expensive desk.

“Who the hell are you, and why the hell are you in my house?” Aaron shouted angrily at Jakob.
“Because I’m a friend of your wife. I’m her guardian angel.” Jakob replied nonchalantly.
“Angels have wings.” Aaron snarled furiously as he turned and reached for the long, wooden box on the top shelf in which he kept his harpoon gun. To his horror and bemusement, he found the box empty.
“Angel also know how to shoot harpoons.” Jakob said simply as he squeezed the trigger and the barbed metal rod of death flew towed Aaron. Aaron reacted in time to dodge to the side, so that only his right arm was hit. He growled in fury and threw a metal globe at Jakob. But Jacob was already running at him with a long, cruel kitchen knife.
“Just give in to God’s will. I am an angel.” Jakob said simply as he pushed the knife at Aaron.
Aaron’s right shoulder had been pierced with the harpoon, so he had only one operable arm.

Jakob had both hands on the knife and was forcing it closer and closer to the fat banker’s neck. Aaron was trying in vain with one arm to stop the inevitable. But it was futile. He felt the cool point of the knife on his jugular. Jakob offered him an understanding smile. Aaron couldn’t breath. He couldn’t think. He could see, but it was dimming. Air, o God I need air! He wanted to screech, but he couldn't. He felt the cool knife bouncing in his punctured trachea to the beat of his fading pulse. His throat no longer worked. His eyes glazed over and everything was black. Jakob pulled his knife out to survey his handy work.

He let Aaron’s fresh corpse to slump over. He pulled of his shirt and etched a circle in the jiggly flesh on his back. Then Jakob completed the peace sign on his victim. Jakob nonchalantly wiped his bloody hands on the wall behind him. Jakob reached into his latest victims pant pocket and pulled out his phone. Jakob exited the room and went into the bedroom. Tied and gagged on a wooden chair was Aaron’s wife. He slice through her binds, and pulled out her gag. She was sobbing uncontrollably. Jakob gave her the phone.

“Tell the police that Jacob said hello. He patted the crying woman's back sympathetically before he walked calmly out onto the street, with the knife safely tucked into his large front hoodie pocket.

That was when Jacob saw them. The alpha wolves and their wretched spawn. But he killed them. He saw them die. He was sure of it. But walking by the coffee bar in Ocracoke with a baby carriage where his parents. No, this couldn’t be. They were dead. But he saw them. In front of him. And they had had another child. Jakob knew he must save that child. He knew it was only a matter of time before they started hurting this kid too. He must save his new younger sibling from the same fate he endured. There was a small part of his mind that was working rationally, that told him that this was just a family, that the witch that was his mother was dead, and this woman just looked like her. That the man just had the same mustache that his father did. That they were just a family. But the vision of the wolf killing him enveloped him. He must save that child.

Jakob stalked them surreptitiously to their little bongu. He crept in the door and waited until the mother was putting her baby to bed in his cradle, and the dad was in his room. Jakob chose that moment to strike. He pushed the knife up to the dad’s neck.

“I thought I already slit your throat.” Jakob hissed. The man struck Jakob in the head. Jakob jerked backward, and he took the knife with him. It left a superficial slash on the man’s clavicle.

“I don’t know who you are, but I will kill you.” He roared down at Jakob. “You threatened my family, and you will pay!” He bellowed as he reached for his gun. Jakob had already locked the door. He didn’t want someone else in the fight. He may loose as it was.

Jakob ran at the man with his knife and hit him in the abdomen. But the man brought the gun up before Jakob could kill him. Mercilessly, the knife had missed all of his internal organs. He squeezed off a shot at Jakob and hit him in the stomach. Jakob whimpered and went down.
“Call 911 Clarissa!” the man shouted before he went down, unconscious from pain.

Ten minutes later, Chelsea, Amy, and paramedics broke into the room. They rushed to Jakob, and they rushed to the man. Jakob looked up at Amy. Please help me, is pleading brown eyes seemed to beg. “Please help me. I don’t want to live this way.” He whispered raggedly. Jakob prayed that someone would hear him, and rescue him.

God, he’s just a kid. When I was his age, I was pretending to shoot people with nerf guns. God…

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” Inquired a Judge.
“We have your honor. We have found him not guilty, by reason of insanity.”
“Very well. I am sentencing him to intense psychotherapy until he is 21, so he may become rehabilitated, and maybe one day, lead a normal life.” Concluded the judge.

After the trial, outside the courtroom, Amy hugged Jakob, and he hugged her back. She had become his surrogate mother, and, In an odd way, he had become something like a child to her. She talked to him every day in the hospital, and when he was in prison, awaiting his trial, she talked to him whenever she could.

TEN YEARS LATER

They were on a sailboat outside of venice. It was a sunny day, and the day was a pretty turquoise color. The sailboat was a short wooden craft, painted a bright yellow. It bobbed up and down on the small waves, as a blue and a small yellow and blue striped sail, cut into a triangle billowed out in front of them. Their where to boys, in their early twenties seated in the boat.

The first was a dark haired, muscular Italian boy named Scipio. He looked to be twenty four. He was shirtless, in red swimming trunks. He knew how to sail, and was the one sailing the boat. He was taking his new object of affection, a young American actor for a sail around Venice.

“So, that’s the story of my childhood.” Jakob finished. He blushed and turned his face down.
“...” Scipio was speechless.
“I was insane. But I’m better now.” The boy murmured, as he fingered the peace sign on the necklace that hung around his neck.
“I still love you.” Scipio said simple, as he grabbed Jakob’s grey sweatshirt, and meshed their lips together.

Finally, there was peace in Jacob's life. True peace. He was home, and loved, and he was happy. The wolf was dead- Jakob had taken up acting in a drama club in the psych rehab center he had been in. He had talent, and now he was staring in a movie set in Venice.

Back on the boat, Scipio and Jacob were still kissing.
I’m home, Jakob thought ecstatically, as he wrapped his arms tighter around Scipio’s neck.

And the boat bobbed along on the waves.




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