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Chapter 4

The door to my apartment was flung open and I saw my mother enter through, looking haggard and tired.

We shared the same shoulder length black hair and bronze skin but that was were our similarities ended, she was short and petite whereas I was taller than average with a barrel chest and broad shoulders. Her eyes were chestnut brown as opposed to my black orbs.

She looked up at me with a tired expression before a smile slowly crept across her face.

“Jethro that smells amazing as always.” She said with her Iranian accent, her and my father were both born in Iran, they had both moved here to Australia when I was born so that I would have more opportunities. Then dad left and everything went to shit.

I smiled back at her, mother was always kind and hardworking, back when I was a kid I felt like such a burden on her. So when I was old enough to start cooking and cleaning I tried my best to do it to my fullest ability so that I could make up for the years idleness.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Thanks mum.” I replied, “We’re having spaghetti.”

“Mmm, smells delicious,” She said she started walking off in the direction of the bathroom. “I’m going to have a shower I smell like shit.” She took of her name tag and put it on the kitchen counter, it read, “Afari Kaine” she worked at a local grocery outlet as a manager, it wasn’t as high paying as some jobs, or as exciting as others, but it brought in a steady wage, enough to live off.

I finished cooking and waited for my mum to get back before plating up. She walked back into the room in casual clothes and still damp hair.

We ate in relative silence which was quite odd for the two of us, but truth be told I was far too excited about tonight to make good conversation. My mind was only focused on one thing right now, everything in the background was just filler.

It was 1am and I stood in the streets I was wearing a hoody, sweatpants, joggers, gloves and my mask. I sure did look the part of a street vigilante but now came the real test. I could talk the talk, but could I walk the walk.

I thought this to myself as I ran off into the dark streets of Brisbane at night.