It was a long way from his room and he had completely zoned out when he was walking. How long had he been like that? An hour? Two, maybe? He had no fucking clue but he was sure as shit not going to let people have the upperhand while he wandered mindlessly. Shaking his head and moving to the garden, he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one once it had been placed between his lips. He wondered what had changed, hopefully nothing too major.
Name: Kieran Price Name of slave: James “Jem” Samuels. Time (Two days-One week): One week. Do you agree that no permanent harm shall come to the slave?: Yes. Do you agree to submit to punishment should the slave get out of hand?: Yes. Signature:
Who do I have to blow this week for two of the more annoying asset to be taken well out of my hair for a full seven days? I mean, really, it must be my lucky day. I do hope I don’t kick the bucket later this evening and not get to enjoy a week of actual quiet in the Commons.
Consider this your receipt. We expect Mr. Samuels back in one week’s time, fully intact. Though, I doubt anyone would complain if you removed his vocal chords.
Kieran had been grieving, it having been the anniversary of his lover’s death. How long had it been? He didn’t know, it still felt as if it were yesterday. Sitting in the courtyard and trying to take in the semi-fresh air of New York’s breeze, he tried to calm himself down without growling at the nearest person. He dealt with too much over the years, his mind feeling as if he were snapping. But, right now, he found some solace in the peace that was some kind of nature. That’s when he heard footsteps, letting him know that someone was approaching. He didn’t say anything, only letting his eyes fluttering open and giving a slight nod in greeting.
Sitting in McGuire’s, Kieran sipped slowly on a pint of their darkest lager. It had been his favorite since coming to America. Licking his lips a bit, he adjusted in his seat before turning around to see the rest of the pub. Though, as his onyx hues caught the sight of a jukebox, the faintest of smirks appeared on his rather blank expression. Walking over, he took the lager with him before he began to search through the songs.
Kieran sitting in the courtyard, earbuds in his ears as he listened to some music. He was never one to really sit around but he did feel the need to enjoy some sort of scenery that didn’t involve work nor the inside of the Tower. He just didn’t feel like leaving. Relaxing as he took a drag from his cigarette, he let the smoke billow out of his lips while he hummed to the song playing from his phone.
But do not ask the price I pay, I must live with my quiet rage. Tame the ghosts in my head That run wild and wish me dead. Should you shake my ash to the wind, Lord, forget all of my sins, And let me die where I lie… …beneath the curse of my lover’s eyes.
Mission after mission, death after death…that was Kieran’s life for the past month and a half. He had no real recollection of how tired he had been until he was finally done with the massive load of hits he’d been presented. With the blood staining his hands, and the dark circles around his eyes, Kieran knocked out each day until he finally slept for a whole twenty-four hours. He knew someone was there taking care of him, he just couldn’t remember if he had invited them or they let themselves in.
Sitting up from his bed and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, he cleared his throat before looking over to see a glass of orange juice and some toast. Smiling as he realized who had been there, he took a sip and nodded since he knew Jem had been the one doing all of the caregiving. Warmth collected on his cheeks, his eyes slowly moving over to the empty side of his bed. He still respected Kieran’s request, even while Kieran had been asleep…
Slowly getting up and shuffling his feet against the carpet, he looked around and saw no one. He figured that Jem must’ve had to go…which was fine. Still sipping on the orange juice and carrying the toast, he sat down at his kitchen table while eying the files that had all been organized in order of dates completed. “He truly lives up to his name.” Kieran whispered, mostly to himself as he opened the notebook he had for his completed missions. He truly knew that his heart was moving on when he realized that his heart fluttered at the idea of Jem having possibly been here and so respectful.
A bite was taken from a piece of toast, his eyes scanning over the notebook and knowing that he would have to thank Jem for such tender, loving care. The thing was, it still pained his heart since it was something his beloved would’ve done for him as well. Conflict reigned supreme, and guilt still riddled him…but he could tell his heart was healing. It was just slow; immensely slow.
((Kieran sat there against the back wall of his cell, making sure he kept himself away from everyone. He needed his space and he would put up a fight with anyone who touched him. His obedience was non-existent at this moment. Like Hell he’d let anyone but Bernard touch him. Instead, he sang out over the new cell he was thrown into.))
Strumming my pain with his fingers, Singing my life with his words, Killing me softly with his song, Killing me softly with his song, Telling my whole life with his words, Killing me softly with his song…