Son of a Hit

Auspicious beginnings rear auspicious breeds

Mine began at inception

Genetically infected

By a predilection towards deception

And so a hit man I became

The first hit took place upon conception

Where I died during delivery

As cord bound noose about my throat

Yet I was revived

Blue eyes clouded by a touch of grey

I wasn’t supposed to survive,

This was never the intention of the seed that sparked my life

Therefore fostered I became

As days would follow

Knowledge I soaked

Detailing the plots and the plans

To which this intelligence would unveil

They were a simple lot

The ones who called me son

They were not my blood

But this did not stop them

From loving me as their own

The son they could never have

And so a fondness within me grew

An attachment bonded me to these two

Yet even they could see it early

In my eyes something was not correct

They wished the world for my life

However, I had another path in mind

Investigations taught me well

How I was the weapon used

I was the means to an end

For a man betraying vows

For a man who cared not for morality

My birthing was a masquerade

In fact I was the centerpiece behind a frame

That would live to become both cause and cover up

Yet truth was told, the truth I knew

The planning was ingenious

The paternal forethought was clever

The execution of his plan was careful and resolute.

He pricked holes in his lambskin coats, knowing mother had a tunnel that couldn’t cope.  He understood her greatest flaw was her passion for life that all things happen, for a reason.

Her devotion to religion, her belief system, taught her to behave predictable.  He knew this and more.   

When she found out first, that I was alive inside, she swelled up; I became the blessing she had always sought.  The doctors and professionals explained her life would very likely be lost, if she continued forward down this path.  She wouldn’t stray; it was not her way, even when they said it was an unlikely scenario that either of us would ever breathe after delivery took its toll.  Even then she clung to the faint hope, that a family we would be, as she returned from her recovery. 

As days grew close, the woman saw, a glimmering wonder within her husbands’ eye.  She knew a deception had been played, yet she couldn’t prove the matter.  There would be no basis for any claim.  Yet, the paranoia did not matter much, she was grateful for the wonder in her womb.  She was in love with the idea, a mother she would be.

The day then came.

Blood was everywhere.

Flooding stainless steel

She had no chance- in so much pain

We both knew it couldn’t last

Out of mercy I pushed forth

Ending her journey

Beginning mine

To the much chagrin of the paternoster my father would never see in me.

Feigned grief he shed

Tears trickled down

Method acting at its best

A smile only peaked upon his cheeks

The day he received the return on policy

The next afternoon

He pretended his grief had grown

That I was too much a chore,

Too delicate and fragile for his type to bear

The plot was impossible to prove

Yet the figures added perfect

To the master plot he spun

If it weren’t for me

Vengeful justice would have never swam

For her, she deserved better

So retribution was left to me

I had to become

The hit man I was birthed to be

Many hours

Plotting, learning, watching, waiting

Late nights documenting routine

Swallowing the vomit he induced in me

Then one day he stopped and stared

Approached the car, unaware of who I was

Intently, behind the wheel, I heard the tapping on the glass

Neck I turned as glass beside dipped down,

Between steel and air

He asked who I was and why I was there

 I wanted to scream, “Remember me”

I’ve got his eyes

Perhaps jawline too

“Tired, needed a break” was all my lips could stir

He walked away and stared back again

Shook his head and left my stay

The next day, an anniversary of birth,

And as a gift to myself, an accident I had

For all the years I’ve buried down,

Each vision of impulse

Every plotted point I’ve had

The collision was severe

Crashing metal driving steel

Eclipsed a budding metropolis

At the intersection of Main and 1st

Our cars met head on

Accidental but mentally rehearsed

The police examined me as I recovered.  They took careful notice, of the stitches on both head and hand.  They thought it was too coincidental to be a coincidence at all.  What were the odds, that on my birthday, I should collide, with the man who provided me life?  Too Oedipal to go unnoticed.  Too impossible to believe, but a case like this they’d never before seen.  A man like me they wished well.  For not only did a car betray my lane, the driver happed be the man who had birthed my seed.  Like a crocodile, tears thickly made their way.  Slow and methodically, I didn’t bite; it was all they had. 

And prove they could not

And with one act of will

I made things right, I took away his life,

Inheriting his everything

This was hit number two

But the cogs kept spinning, severe and fierce

I realized that every trace of him must be wiped clear

I searched for others and more there were

Many seeds of his, alive out there

Abandoned sons and daughters

Estranged lovers and displaced kin

Espoused in anonymity

Each year a gift I endow

Simply noting

They’re not alone

That people do care for you

And thus the third hit was done

I’ve since stopped count

Yet continue on I do

Until another figures this all out

The traces and the history

Of a family steeped in infamy

And if that child should concoct

A vengeful plot, in their father’s name

For disallowing them the possibility

 To ask the questions they keep. 

 To which I would tell that child, I know exactly how you feel, where you’ve been.

Completing the cycle, where the last hit, will again be me.