It all started back in August of 1994.
"Now you be careful when you go to college. People aren't always how they seem to be." The old woman said with a concerned look on her aged face.
"I will Gram. I promise." replied the beautiful young girl.
Girl wasn't the right word though...she was a young woman. The only world she had traveled or seen was in the book and movies, she read and saw. Maybe had she saw the truth, the reality with in those stories and images she clung too so hard she wouldn't have fallen for the trap. But she fell regardless of her Grandmother's warnings, and her own instincts.
With in the first month of college she had her first real love. She did love him and for the next few months everything was good. However, like all good things it came to an end. After their first real fight the young woman decided to drink her problems away...this is where the real problem began. She woke up in a strange place, a strange house, a strange bed, and a stranger next to her.
When she had realized what had happened and exactly WHO it happened with she was scared. In a matter of weeks she realized that she was in over her head, not by feet but by miles. She was afraid of what was growing inside of her...for what would become of her unknown child. She already knew that normal was not going to happen, not after that night.
"Sam...I need your help." tears swelled in her eyes as she looked at his face. She always went to him with her problems, he made her feel safe, secure like a dad or brother.
"I'm worried. Not only for my safety, but yours, my families. You know what its father was, you know what he was capable of... What if what grows inside of me is the same?" her voice trembled.
"We can't do anything... Not until after you have given birth, but I promise you that what grows inside of you is only half of that monster. It is half of you also, and maybe just maybe your good will ride it of the dark."His voice sounded confident, but he wasn't. He only sounded that way for her benefit.
Months came and passed. The seed of life grew with in her. She found out that she was to have a boy and whether she liked it or not she would have to give it a name. She hated the thought of it, she had to name something she didn't want. Actually it wasn't that she didn't want him, she always wanted children, but not this way and not this one. Daemyn that was to be his name. From that moment on she grew attached she couldn't help it the name made him real made him a part of her. After she gave birth, things went bad again.
She knew what he was, she knew that he was to much like his father, she knew the moment she found him huddled over a lunch box filled with dead animals.
"He is his fathers son, what ever part of you was in him is gone! You have to let me deal with this, you can't put everyone in danger of his uncontrollable desires!" Sam said his voice was forceful, it made her cringe she had never seen him this way. She curled up against the wall hugging her knees to her chest crying uncontrollable, as he took her son.
She didn't know what Sam had done with him, she just knew that he wasn't her concern at least at that time. Years later she saw a man hunter for a viscous serial killer who targeted young women. She knew it was him, no question. The FBI said that kid was lost in the labyrinth of a thing called the foster care system for years and that he had a history of violence. It took years before they actually caught him but they did and he was given the death sentence. He died on his 18th birthday.
Sam had never returned that night, she didn't have to ask why she already knew. However, she thought of him, that day her son was killed. She wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he had a family, if he thought of her. She didn't know.
I couldn't go back not to face her, not after I couldn't kill him, I couldn't do what needed to be done. I could only hope to lose him in the system to keep him out of public for as long as possible. Short of putting him in some secret, abandoned, underground city this was all I could do. It's been years now I want to go home... I want my son to go home. We have been here too long. I didn't want him to grow up the way he did. For the past 15 years we have been living in the "City of Lights" Vegas. I have managed to keep a roof over Landon and I's head, food on the table, and clothes on our back. I am a pool player, a good one I can hold my own against the pros, but I don't do it for big money, I do it to survive. I'm worried though Landon is better than I am and he is only 16, fame, money, all of it goes to his head. I warn him that if he goes down that path, it will not end. I was making arrangements to fly back to Washington, when I got the call. He hadn't listened, he got in way over his head and couldn't get out.
"Is this Sam Jones, father of Landon Jones?" an unemotional voice rang through the phone.
My heart thumped louder as to answer the question for me "Yes."
"Yes, it is." I barely managed to whisper I knew what was coming it was said.
"I'm sorry sir but you need to come down the the county corners office and I.D. the body."
When I stumbled through the cold hard steel door, to that room, I felt like I was going to be sick.
There on a metal slab lay his beloved son, he had felt the rush, of fame and money and in the end it burnt him. It was all my fault. I was never the same after Landon's death, I couldn't forgive myself I hated kids even my own nephew I couldn't stand the sight of. My sister unaware how far my hatred went left the her son at my house unattained. When I came back I found the only childhood craft left made by Landon lay in ruins on the floor of his room. The rest is a curtain of red... from what I was I have pieced together,I threw my nephew my own flesh and blood from the top most wind of my house. As he was falling to his impending death he changed into a bird. From that day the bird does not fly to close to the sun, nor does it rest in high place because of the fear of the fall. All I know is that I am room surrounded by white walls, wearing a white jacket and nobody believes me....
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