There was no love for him and his siblings. Only death. Death, that they had to bring upon people that breathed, laughed, grieved, had children, troubles, hopes and dreams. Since he could talk, it was this way. It's how nature is supposed to be and it was their job to restore it. It was an honour. It is the lack of warmth and love, that brought a little blond boy with pained smile, to crave it all so much. To feel the need to give it.
They bullied him for his height and cheep clothing. They had no idea he could paralyze them with one well aimed kick. He knew of the point in a human's back, through where you can pierce a heart and crack the spine in one blow. He was not to harm humans, mama and dad said, but that was not an issue. It wasn't fair. It never was fair that dead people had to die all over again. But it was all he knew how to do. Put them back, where they belong. Where they should be.
The truth is, his little brother and little Isla never needed much protection or care, he was always so desperate to give them. While the family travelled, people changed, familiar faces disappeared, but family was content. They were there for him to hold onto, to tell secrets, wrap himself in a cocoon of familiarity and those who understood. Those who could feel the rush of battle and enjoy it too. How ending lives become so easy, so empowering. In the brightest and darkest moments, they were always there and it scared him to admit just how much he needed it.
But when things got bad there she was, the most ridiculous girl he had ever seen, who wore giant glasses and had black hair and freckles, those thing shouldn't even be possible. Stupid freckled girl. Stupid, beautiful freckled girl who wrecked his life. He could still feel her soft skin and damaged hair, how she smelled of tea leafs and snorted when she laughed. She was oxygen and he was dying to breathe.
She was also dead and it was his father that killed her again. The pleas, the promises, nothing helped. He killed her because it was his duty and also because of spite. She made Aaron week an pliant, he had said. Aaron was sure that he could never forgive him. As soon as he was old enough, he left and they let him. Even welcomed it really, since that meant he was independent and ready to kill some more. He was sure, he would never love again. He couldn't.