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THE HEARTLESS BEAST

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After every tear had fallen, nothing proved more agonizing than the loss of a parent. Evan was only five years old when his world was turned upside down, orphaned at an age when he most needed protection.​The most bitter realization, however, was the betrayal: the parents of his closest friend were the ones responsible for his ruin. Even at such a tender age, the grief hardened into a cold, dark resolve. He made a vow then and there—to seek them out, to show no mercy, and to ensure they paid for everything they had taken from him.

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THE FALL OF THE MANSION
The Fall of the Mansion ​"Elena, stop right there!" ​A cute, spirited girl with long hair rushed out without wearing her slippers. Poor Evans had been chasing her until the moment she arrived at their mansion. Evans stopped walking and smirked evilly. This is my house; no one can keep me on my toes here, he thought. He dashed to his secret room, and a second later, he was standing in front of Elena with a wicked grin. ​"That’s enough, young lady," he said, holding out her shoes while resting his other hand on his waist. Elena simply rolled her eyes and reached for her sandals. ​Suddenly, they were interrupted by a gunshot from the conference room. Both of them covered their ears; Elena began to shiver violently. Evans held her to calm her down. "I’ll be right back. Don’t move!" he commanded. He dashed out, ignoring Elena’s please for him to stay. ​The gunshot had been so loud it echoed through the entire mansion. He pushed the door open with his small hands, his legs shaking. The view in front of him was horrific. Half of his father's guards were dead. Only Mr. Raffia remained with his parents. His mother had been shot, and her pregnant belly was bleeding nonstop. His father had been shot in the leg but was still struggling against Mr. Jones with all his might. ​"Mommy!" Little Evans screamed. ​His cry distracted his father, giving Mr. Jones the upper hand. Jones raised the gun, ready to shoot Evans, but his father threw himself in front of his son. Blood gushed from his father's head, flowing onto Evans’s palms and splashing across his face. ​Evans shook with terror. Mr. Raffia hurried toward him just as Mr. Jones pointed the gun again. Luckily, that was the last bullet. Jones signaled his guards to leave. Mr. Raffia grabbed Evans and dragged him toward the exit. Raffia was coughing up blood, but he refused to let the boy die. He pushed Evans through the mansion exit. The last words he whispered were, "I’m sorry," before he shoved him out and locked the door. ​Little Evans scrambled to his feet and walked away slowly. The moment he reached a safe distance, the mansion crumbled into pieces. Hot tears filled his eyes.

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