1 0. Prolog

The autumn breeze rustles the yellowish-brown leaves of the trees. Poplars danced, shedding leaves that had no idea where they would land. Of the many that fell, one landed right on the top of a boy's blond head.

Curious, the boy picked up the thin, brown thing. The breeze danced his blond mane in the orange light. The leaf in his grasp fell to the ground at the same time as three cars pulled into the yard. Successfully capturing the boy's unblinking attention, there was an urge to call his mother inside the house, however, a handsome, well-built man in a black suit with a worn black vest, a dark teal scarf wrapped perfectly around his sturdy shoulders. The boy was rooted to the spot, even as the man and his fierce-faced subordinates followed behind.

The man lowered his body slightly to stare at the sweet face-whose eyes did not blink, when the distance between him and the blond-haired boy was half a meter, only to smile sweetly ending with a gentle ruffle of the boy's black mane and resuming his steps towards the whitewashed house with the arctic blue door. Men in black suits with fierce faces passed by the boy.

"Mom!" The blonde boy yelled out for his mother, that was when the group of men had already gathered in front of his house.

The door opened, revealing a beautiful woman with wheat-blonde hair down to her back, wearing a light waist house dress.

"Joe, don't yell like-" the woman's words trailed off, her beautiful face suddenly paled at the presence of the man she never wanted to see again.

A smile, more like a grin broke out on the man's handsome face. He eroded the distance between him and the blonde boy's mother, but she reflexively stepped back.

The blond boy had no idea what was happening in front of his house, until his mother yelled out a distress signal. "Joe, run!!!"

The boy's eyes rounded, fear hitting him as the autumn wind hit the strong trees.

The mother's instruction activated the boy's motor brain to run. The blond boy immediately turned away, his small limbs forced to stride quickly away from his home. Before, he remembered someone, his mother was still there. Little Joe wouldn't run, not with his mother.

LIMERENCE by oishielmo