52. Baby’s First Homicidal Thought

A s Harlow, honestly, didn't give a fuck about his childhood, he shrugged when Wes looked to him, as if he wanted to confirm he was okay with Foxx basically shoving him into the hot seat in effort to avoid talking. "Ask away."

"Okay, then. Harlow, tell me, what's the first thing you remember, the very first thing?"

"The first thing?" He frowned, his head tilting.

A woman's low, sweet but sad voice floated through his mind. ‘ They won't understand because you're special.'

The words… He had no clue who they had come from, or when he had heard them. But they had always been his first memory. Though could one call it a memory when there was nothing else attached to it, no image, no sense of location, nothing.

What came before them was blank, and what came after… Well, his next memory was of being returned to a group home. Yet, even with those memories, he had some doubt due to how young he was at the time.

It had been a long ass time since he'd thought about both the words and what came after. "I remember a voice. A woman saying ‘they wouldn't understand because I was special'."

Wes' brow rose. "A woman's voice?"

"What if it was your mother?!" Foxx blurted. "Oh! I told you! They didn't want to let you go, but they had to! Oh! You don't know what I'm talking about, do you, Wes? Well, see, the whole dhampirs being illegal thing… Which we fixed, by the way. The council's law should be rescinded soon enough.

"Anyway, as I was saying, as dhampirs were illegal, his parents, on knowing he would be killed if they kept him, or were discovered to have him, they left him for humans to find so he could live his life! SO really, they didn't abandon him. They left him as it was the only choice, and it was done out of love!"

He stared blankly at Wes as the human's eyes widened slightly at Foxx's babbling. To be honest, Harlow was surprised the vampire had held back long enough to let Wes even ask his single vague question.

"I see… Well, it certainly does open up the possibilities." Wes eyed him. "I know from the files Tony gave me, you were found by a fireman when you were an infant, correct?"

"Yes."

"This voice you heard, do you think you heard it before or after that?"

Harlow shrugged. "Don't know."

"Okay, what is the next memory you have?"

"I'm not positive if this is something I actually remember or if my mind made it up, because by my calculations, I couldn't have been older than two, if that. Yet, it's pretty clear, and I feel I understood too much for that age.

"A couple who had intended to adopt me were returning me to the group home. I'd assume they discussed it with the director, and hadn't just shown up with me, but apparently, dropping me off wasn't enough and they decided they needed to warn the state against trying to adopt me out to anyone else. Their conversation with the director was loud and ended with shouting."

"To be fair," Foxx drawled. "Vampires tend to develop faster. I believe that young humans who were changed have been noted to demonstrate boosted mental capacity beyond their years. It usually slows and evens out by middle school age, but you understanding them at that age wouldn't be beyond the normal for us. I mean, I know you aren't a vampire, but you are close enough that I imagine the developmental stages are similar."

"That is true," Wes hummed. "It's also not specific to vampires, or in this case, dhampirs. With the few species we have had a chance to study, it does seem that brain development for paranormals happens at a much faster rate. As for this argument, do you remember specifics?"

Harlow smirked. "I remember enough. They talked about my constant staring. How quiet I was. They told the director something was wrong with me, and that putting me with another couple would likely kill their desire for children like it had theirs."

"Wow, that's fucked up. What horrible people," Foxx huffed.

Wes' head tilted. "I'd imagine most parents only wished they could describe their child as quiet at that age."

Harlow chuckled. "See, there's quiet and then there was me. I was with them…" He frowned. "Ah…six months, they said. I don't remember my time with them. I think I did at one point, but with how many years it's been, the memories are gone now. This was one clear statement they made, and it was something that was in part repeated by others later in various ways."

He cleared his throat before repeating the words he heard over forty years ago. "‘There's quiet and then there's this child. Never cries, never makes a sound, always staring. One would think it would be a blessing, but he's a nightmare come to life, to the point we lost all sense of safety in our home, as our thoughts are filled with the possibility of us being murdered in our sleep. That child is not normal, and he certainly is not a child of God. And if you have any sort of moral obligation, it is your duty to make sure no loving couple ever has their dreams crushed like we did'."

Foxx slipped his arm through his, the vampire rubbing his face against his shoulder. "You little demon, you. I'm so proud. Terrorizing those God -fearing people."

Harlow chuckled. "Brat."

"You never cried?" Wes pressed.

"Not once, as far as I know. Not even as a baby. Which is probably why I was returned five times before that. Based on the records I saw, the last time I took a peek, they tried the longest. The ones before that hadn't made it past a month. To be clear…I'm pretty sure by that point I could talk, but I didn't. So not making a sound was a choice."

"You don't remember your time with them. But on hearing such harsh, and most would say, cruel words, did it bring about any sort of reaction from you?"

"You really tried to get around asking out right ‘how did that make you feel', huh?" Harlow snorted.

Wes smiled. "Any time I asked it in the past, it seemed to irritate you, so I did try."

"Well, that's your answer. I was irritated. Not by the words, but because they were talking loudly. I was still asleep when they brought me there, and woke up due to their shouting match. So while I didn't give a flying fuck that they were leaving me there, or about what they were saying, I was irritated that my sleep had been interrupted."

Wes stiffened, his next words sounding oddly accusing and harsh for the normally gentle man. "They planned to drop you off without even waking you up?! And they questioned someone else's moral obligations?!" The man scoffed.

Harlow shrugged. "It wasn't like I was normal."

"Yes, but you also did nothing wrong. Just because you aren't what is considered ‘normal', doesn't mean you deserve any less of a safe, loving home. For them to advocate that you didn't deserve one…" The man took a shuddered breath. "People like that aren't loving, they are cruel, and absolutely should be nowhere near children. You, in fact, did the world a favor making sure they became parents to no one. They likely would have reacted the same way to ANY nonverbal child, any child who was different, that would have been placed in their care."

"Yeah, fuck those people!" Foxx chimed in.

Ah…the human was offended for him. Did that mean he had to collect him too? He supposed he should. He had already told Wes more than he had told most. Harlow supposed he had somewhat come to trust him, even in the short amount of time it had been. Well…it was more that his developing emotions due to Foxx had forced him to reveal more than he likely would have normally. And because he had no one else to talk to aside from Wes, he had confided in him…mainly to avoid going more insane. Well, to avoid killing someone. Which he thought was good development for him. Avoiding killing, that is.

"Okay…well. Good to know. What more would you like to know?"

"Were many of your interactions with the couples and families growing up similar to this?"

He shrugged. "I was in the group home for about a year longer, after a few more failed adoptions. They pretty much all ended the same way, then I found myself cycling through foster care homes. My interactions were similar; disinterest on my part, a bit of fear on theirs, disappointment for the ones who'd been looking to adopt through the system that way, with the added bonus of those just doing it for money. At least until I was six, I believe."

Wes nodded. "Age six, that's school age, so I imagine life would have to change. Or are you talking about another kind of change?"

"Well, my oddities had them putting me in foster homes, who at the time were just starting out, or...didn't have other children, but around age six, I began being placed in homes with others. Not to mention, as you said, school started."

"I don't imagine you suddenly found interest in the people around you. And it's not as if you weren't around others before, so beyond that, what new things or thing came about?"

Not a thing really, more a feeling. One that he now felt often, and hadn't hesitated to carry out in the many years since.

"Right, as I was turning six, I was placed in a foster care home with six other kids. Three were teenagers, while the others ranged from my age up to age ten. It was loud, and while the foster parents weren't necessarily abusive or overly restrictive, they were obviously there for a check, and weren't big on actually parenting. And as the teenagers had been there the longest, there was also a bit of a divide between the three teens and the rest of us, in that the teens felt they had more right to everything, on top of feeling superior to us younger ones."

"So, they were little assholes is what you are saying." Foxx sniffed. "Well, they are at the top of my dislike list when it comes to ranking children by age group."

"You…have a list?" Wes asked hesitantly.

Harlow chuckled. "To be clear, all children are on his dislike list, as he doesn't like children. Neither do I, for that matter. Well, I don't… No, I suppose if I have any feelings towards children at all, it would be dislike. Though I generally don't care or think about them at all."

Harlow would have been neutral about them if…they weren't so…disgusting and…didn't touch people so fucking easily without asking.

"Nope, don't like them, don't want them," Foxx chimed.

"Okay…" the human drawled slowly. "We can…discuss more on that later. Harlow, I think this is the first time you have spoken about yourself during childhood in a collective way. As part of a group."

"I wouldn't have, and didn't for the first few months I lived there, but…the oldest of the younger group, a child named Tommy, did something no one else had."

"What did he do? Was it something bad?!" the vampire hissed.

Harlow smirked. "No, nothing bad. It would get bad, but it wasn't because of him. Tommy was just the first person to respect my choice to not interact with the world. We didn't really eat at the table, and I sometimes wouldn't eat at all, if I didn't feel like bothering to walk through the chaos to grab a plate. The kid would come with two plates, and sit beside me in whatever corner I was using to avoid the rest. He never said a word or asked anything. Tommy would do it outside of mealtimes too. He never once demanded I perform some bullshit fake emotions for him, or make any demands from me at all. He was just a silent presence."

Tommy… Tommy was someone he hadn't thought about in a long damn time either.

"Aww…he sounds sweet."

"I suppose he was a good kid."

Wes' brow rose. "Was?"

Harlow grimaced. "He was murdered by the foster family he was placed with next. Not that the government called it that."

Foxx's grip on his arm tightened, the vampire growling, "What bastards."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the human murmured softly.

"Yeah, it sucks. But that's further down the line of fucked up shit. Moving back to that house and those teens. Having someone who didn't poke at me was new, but not really what I was referring to about a change in my interactions, though I suppose it was a slight change. Really, what I was talking about is, in that house I experienced my first homicidal thought."

"Can't say I remember my first time wanting to kill someone," Foxx hummed, as if Harlow having such a thought at age six wasn't abnormal at all.

He smiled. Yep, his brat was definitely not normal.

Wes' lips pursed. "From disinterest to wanting someone dead. That is a change."

"Well, you said the foster parents weren't abusive, so I'm guessing it's one of the teens you thought about killing," Foxx deduced.

The dhampir chuckled. "Correct. I think before that point I felt little, not even a bit of rage. I had basically been living my life washed in apathy. But one of the teens, Joshua, got it in his head that me refusing to talk to him was disrespectful, and personal. More so after he realized Tommy seemed to like to stay around me. The kid started in on Tommy one day. To be clear, I was six, and I was small for my age, but Tommy, despite being four years older, was somehow my size, yet…thinner.

"Looking back, I'm thinking he had some sort of medical issue going on with his weight… Anyway, they were arguing about me… I hadn't realized at the time that one of the reasons the teens were so smug, despite being in the same situation as us…was because the foster parents listened to them when they said a kid wasn't a good fit. The one teen wanted to send me away, and Tommy was foolishly fighting for me."

Harlow's eyes snapped open with irritation as someone started yelling about something inside the house.

Not one day since coming here had it been quiet.

"You can't do that!"

Wait… Tommy? Tommy doesn't yell… Frowning, Harlow hopped off the picnic table he'd been sleeping on and started for the door.

"Either you shut up or you're next!"

On realizing it was Joshua the kid was arguing with, Harlow hurried inside. Eyeing the two from a distance, he hung back out of view out of caution.

A little over three feet tall, Tommy was a small child with short trimmed brown hair. Overly thin, his large brown eyes seeming to dominate his face. With messy dirty blond hair, Joshua, on the other hand, was nearing six foot and starting to pack on muscle. Which meant…the teen more than towered over the kid.

"He didn't do anything wrong!" Tommy cried, looking near tears. "You can't, Joshua, you can't!"

"He's a freak! I'm beginning to think you're one too!"

Ah…they were talking about him. Shocker… he thought with an eye roll.

"He isn't… He's different, he just doesn't like talking. And so what?! What's wrong with that?!"

"Oh, but he loves talking to you, doesn't he, Tommy?!"

"W-what? No… Harlow hasn't said anything to me! He doesn't even say anything at school."

"Don't lie! I see you two freaks together all time!"

"Stop calling him that!"

"Make me!" Joshua shoved Tommy, the threat clear in his voice, even as the smaller kid stumbled back a little.

Tommy glared. "I won't let you get him sent away! I'll tell them you are lying because you are mad he doesn't talk to you!"

"You won't tell them shit!" the teen snapped. "Like they'd believe you anyway."

"I've been here a year! They will!"

"You. Won't. Tell. Them. Shit!" Joshua snarled, punctuating each word with a shove. The teen's last hit sent the kid tumbling back hard.

As Harlow watched Tommy's head bounce off the corner of the coffee table, the kid falling limply to the floor as blood seeped from him, his hands clenched and he found himself walking out into the open, while this odd sensation fluttered through him. It was warm… No, not warm, hot. His insides felt on fire.

"You… He tripped!" Joshua snapped on spotting him.

As his eyes narrowed on the teen, his thoughts twisted. In his head, it wasn't Tommy on the floor bleeding, but Joshua. And the Joshua in his mind wasn't breathing, and standing over him, the one who had put him there, was Harlow.

The image… He wanted it to be real… He preferred it to what was currently happening. Taking a deep breath in and out as his hand began to shake, it was then he realized what he was feeling. Anger… He was angry. Why…?

His gaze flicked down to Tommy… Still the kid hadn't moved… His hands clenched tighter. This angered him… Why did it anger him?

"Are you deaf as well as mute?! I said it was his own fault. Go be useful and grab a rag or something while I call 911!"

Glancing back up at Joshua, the feelings inside him boiled over. "You wanted me to talk, right?" he rasped, his voice coming out soft and hoarse from lack of use. "I'll talk then. Wouldn't want you to never hear the voice of the person who killed you." He growled the last part, lunging as he swung at the teen. Joshua's eyes went wide, the kid shouting out as he toppled over.

On top of him, Harlow kept swinging, the image of the kid dead on the ground firmly in his mind as what he wanted to become real.