How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 16: Chapter 16

It was particularly cloudy, overshadowed grey casting a sorrowful air upon the working town. And in the shaded alleys, it was all the more dark with children in scrubs scurrying to their corners, and wallow, bony figures perched against the walls.
Kaden tugged his hood lower, narrowing his eyes as he made his way through, careful to avoid any slippery hands that sought money or food.
Providing these people of the slums wasn't something he refused—but helping one person would gather a crowd, and he could hardly afford to survive, much less feed the entire slums.
Not to mention, he knew the way things worked.
Take and never give. Helping somebody here didn't guarantee they wouldn't be the next to stab you in the back.
Nobody would happily thank their provider, shed tears of joy over scraps of food. No, that person would become a target for all to steal from, until they themselves were dragged into the chaos of this filthy society.
Some people left this lifestyle from sheer trickery, false smiles of politeness that stole away the sympathy from the rich.
It wasn't unlawful or wrong. It was a means of survival.
Similar to what Kaden had done, though he didn't recall ever approaching a noble. There wasn't much to be said about his youngest years, hardly a fog of memory.
He'd held a disdain to the rich who flaunted themselves in fancy clothing, keeping up to latest trends even as their feet squirmed uncomfortably in tight shoes, or their corsets were pulled painfully taut.
But he did remember the day that Reed's outstretched hand reached out towards him, beating with the warmth of sunlight that dared to shine in his darkest days. It was a hand that offered to him, day after day, night after night.
He remembered the hope that bubbled childishly in his chest.
He remembered thinking that the young noble, with a soft smile, was more beautiful than the statues sculpted by the most skilled hands.
Kaden shook his head, seething to himself. It was pointless of thinking back on useless things, when he hardly knew what an actor that man was. Reed had been searching for a dog he could tame, not a brother he could love.
Then, a bundle ran up to him, shaking him away from his thoughts.
Kaden glanced down at the smiling boy, and ruffled the tangled golden locks. A day prior, he had visited the town to grab some school supplies and encountered the boy again.
This time, he arranged a meeting in the slums, unable to resist the hopeful, puppy-like gaze of a child who had nothing.
However, tiny speckles had formed on Arlo's arm, spreading into dark bruises.
A frown formed on Kaden's lips, but it wasn't the time to say anything in the listening crowd.
"Come on."
Kaden's feet moved automatically, following the twists and turns and navigating through the crumbling arches, between the molding buildings. He climbed a flight of stairs on the side of a particularly old site, leading Arlo to the top.
To enter, one had to brush aside the growing vines that tangled at the entrace, ducking over a low ledge and then over the stone steps.
Although there was little he recalled of his life in the slums, he remembered this.
At the end of the stairs, opened up to a large, empty space, with nothing but a ledge along the wall and a rounded window overlooking the city. There were old planks and debris scattered on the ground, piled at the corners. A fine mist had settled over the glass, clinging to dust.
Kaden took a few steps over and without a second thought, wiped the edge of his cloak over to reveal a glimpse of the sight below.
The little boy peeked inside cautiously at first, tentatively stepping forward before relaxing. His expression lit up at the mist-covered glass. His eyelashes trembled with interest, wide-eyed. It took little to please him.
Arlo hopped over excitedly, joy radiating off his young features. "It's so pretty! Look! I can see everything! Is this your hideout, Mr. Noble?"
Kaden glanced over, nostalgic. "It was."
"Was? Then, can I have it now? Please?"
"Sure. Do as you please." He smiled habitually at the energetic movements of the boy, before the flicker of purple came back to the front of his mind.
Waiting until Arlo was perched on a ledge that ran along the wall, just beside the window, Kaden moved over to sit beside him. He allowed the gleeful child to happily watch the movements outside for a few minutes.
"Arlo."
"Hm?" The child spun his head around, eagerness vividly boiling over his expression.
Although in fact, this sight wasn't much to behold, yet to a boy who'd hardly seen further than his creaking house, and the dirtied streets, it was equivalent to an masterfully created artwork.
Kaden tensed slightly, betraying his usual demure. There was no need to pretend around a boy who knew nothing—the knowledge of that eased him slightly.
"Hey, what happened to your arm?"
Flickering images of terrible bruises, of blistering wounds and gaping flesh brushed through Kaden's mind.
He had proof of that cruelty, engraved over his own skin.
"Mn? Oh!" The boy tugged his sleeve further up to reveal more puncture wounds spanning over the tanned skin. "Papa says its for my own good. It's to keep me healthy. And!"
Kaden frowned. "And?"
A silly smile formed over the child's carefree grin, but Kaden's blood ran cold.
"And papa doesn't hit me when I take my medicine."
Something twisted in the other's chilling expression, the surrounding air dropping several degrees until Arlo shivered nervously. Death had settled over the pale green of Kaden's eyes, like a frost covering drooping leaves in the midst of winter.
The man straightened, a madness coating his tall posture, and a sardonic smile graced his lips. Kaden lowered his gaze, voice low and hoarse.
"Hit?"
Arlo swallowed, squinting. Warning rung out in his ears, of a deadly air that he learned to recognize through the years. Yet from Kaden, he didn't think the malicious disposition was towards him.
Therefore, despite noticing something strange, Arlo nodded obediently. "Yeah!"
Thoughts rushed through Kaden's silence. The amount of injections couldn't be a simple medicine, and the child portrayed no signs of evident illness.
And the unsettling twist in his stomach warned him not to overlook it.
Kaden was a man who could tolerant and remain indifferent in the face of many things, trained to force a calm that he might not want to feel.
He wouldn't get involved in things he couldn't handle, wouldn't try to save everybody. There was little he had the power to do.
But child abuse?
He wouldn't condone it.
"Why don't I walk you back home, Arlo?" suggested Kaden, breathing softly as he offered a smile to soothe over the previous chaos. "I have something to do, so we can hang out again another day."
"So soon?" Arlo wilted slightly, dragging his feet unwillingly. He puffed his cheeks out sullenly, playing the role of a spoiled child.
Kaden almost laughed, comparing the silly, suspicious child he'd first met that had been so quick to warm up to him. He hoped Arlo wouldn't be fooled easily by everyone.
The boy, his cheeked flushed from the faint chill in the air, peered up at Kaden. The glow of light outside pulsed in his large watching eyes. For a second, the cheerfulness stagnented and his eyelashes drooped coldly, betraying his childish personality.
In the next second, Arlo smiled brightly.
Stretching out a gloved hand, Kaden ruffled the boy's stringy hair. A good bath would be in order, when Kaden found a way to take Arlo to more beautiful places without stirring Reed's attention.
He just needed a reason. It would inevitably involve Arlo in this cursed world he lived in... but what would be worse?
If his father was truly abusive, then what should Kaden do?
Kaden certainly couldn't save everybody, and he wasn't heroic enough to expend all his energy to when there were many other things he needed to accomplish, but he could save Arlo.
One child, one time.
He sighed, the slow tap of his fingers impatient along the tearing ledge. He watched people huddle in the corners of the streets, dressed in rags as they shivered.
Since he was involved, he wouln't back out now. If his personal issues became a danger, then he would involve Niklas or Noah to take care of the boy.
Arlo peered up at the hand patting his head absentmindedly. "Hey, hey, why do you wear gloves?"
Kaden regarded him, and smiled. "My hands are pretty ugly, so I like to hide them. It's a silly reason."
"Can I see?"
"Is there anything interesting about seeing a person's hands?"
"Please." Arlo blinked his beautiful, large eyes several times and Kaden inched away slightly. He wasn't good to pressure, much less the sort coming from a child.
"...alright."
The man lowered his eyes, raising a hand to gingerly tug at the tips of his fingertips. Hesitation paused his movements, before he continued to pull up the black leather, wrapped around his prominent joints.
It was frightening, how the cold air begun to seep underneath and envelop his bare skin—skin he'd kept hidden at all times, save for showers and certain times.
However, Arlo's ignorant, curious gaze remained alert, and insistent. Therefore, Kaden pushed a finger underneath the bunched leather, and swiped off the rest.
Arlo parted his lips in bewilderment.
Beneath the fine disguise of beautiful hands, jutting knuckled that perfectly bent with every movement under the black leather, was a mess of flayed skin.
A garden of faded scars, some cutting longer strips across the palm, and others short slices against the fingers. Since they hadn't been treated properly, they'd likely imprint on the pale skin for eternity.
A particular star-shaped scar stood out on the back of his hand, a symbol marked into his skin. Etched into it was a crudely burned letter R.
There was a purple hue that throbbed beneath the layers, an ugly colour that distorted the shape of the hands further.
"D-does it hurt?" Arlo's entire body became limp at the idea of feeling such scars—though he knew the feeling of pain, this seemed to be on another extent.
He hurriedly grabbed them with his small, bony hands, at a lost what to do.
Kaden was silent for a moment, watching the boy scramble around and nervously peek down at the scars, then back up at him. More often than not, the first question would be 'How did that happen?'
He wasn't used to being asked, does it hurt, or are you okay?
But perhaps Arlo instinctively asked that because the child was all too familiar with how painful injuries could be.
Kaden shook his head and smiled, a softer, gentler smile. "No it doesn't. Not anymore. But you see, I forgot to tell somebody when it did hurt, and now I have these ugly marks."
He bent his fingers, and held onto the frightening thin hands of a boy too young to endure the harshness of this world. Too young to need to.
"That's why, if you're ever in pain, remember to tell somebody, okay?"
Arlo shouldn't grow up hiding his pain from others.
He shouldn't learn to endure everything by himself, or think that it wasn't allowed for him to voice out his complaints childishly.
Of course, certain responsibilities were good to teach children, but he wanted to tell Arlo something that the younger him, living in the slums, never got to hear.
'You're not alone, kid.'
The boy nodded obediently, hanging his head. Then, he nodded again, and a tremble ran along his shoulders.
Kaden said nothing, glancing sideways at the crowded streets outside, under the gloom of the skies. At the people crouched over crumbling overheads, families huddled together over a morsel of molding bread.
He waited until Arlo cleared his throat, furiously wiped his eyes and jumped down towards the staircase. "Okay! Let's go home now, Kaden!"
"Are you sure? The wet marks are still running down your cheeks."
Arlo immediately huffed, energetically rubbing his face once again. Kaden laughed teasingly, deciding not to comment on the reddened corners of the boy's eyes.
They followed the same path back, only, Arlo led the way to his house. The man kept darting his eyes around cautiously, not ignorant to the leering looks from the other dwellers of the streets.
It wasn't safe for a young boy to run around, though there were little other options.
Kaden allowed a dark curve to twist his lips at a particular man, gazing at Arlo with especially inappropriate eyes.
Suddenly, the lecherous man paled, jumping to his feet in a panic, waving his arms around wildly. A terrible darkness had befallen his vision, and stabbing bursts of smiling white faces danced in the depths.
Without a word, a black coat billowed in the wind, turning away from the scene.
Arlo looked back for a moment. "Did that mister take too many of the special medicine? Everybody knows not to!"
The boy likely referred to 'drugs', assumed Kaden mindlessly, shrugging with an air of cold indifference. "Perhaps."
He felt a spike of sharp pain in his head that soon subsided.
The road to the house was a long one, secluded in an area that few frequented. Where screams and shouts would remain a ghost of sound for only the walls to hear.
Kaden glanced around at the overgrown plants crowding the pathway, and the small cottage that was likely once a beautiful and cozy place of living, now rotting wood covered in moss.
"Is this your house, Arlo?"
The boy nodded with a bright smile. "It's... it's a little small! But my mama built it when she was alive! It used to be much prettier."
"I see."
Was this a case of a husband taking his frustration and loss on his son after the wife's death? It wasn't an uncommon case.
Kaden narrowed his eyes, shadowed by the trees.
"I'll head back hear, run along. I'll meet you the next time I'm free."
A rather shy tug pulled at his shirt, and nervousness coated Arlo's tender face. "When... will you be free soon?"
"...it'll be pretty soon."
"Okay! It's a promise then, Kaden! Bye bye!"
With a wide wave across the air, the boy hurried back to his home. However, when he stopped at the door, he tentatively knocked and shouted that he was back, before pushing the door open a creak.
As if he were scared to go inside.
Kaden hovered around until Arlo entered the building, waiting for a few moments before slinking around the side, moving with the sway of wind.
He crouched, plastered to the wide of the thin walls. Sound easily carried through, and he could hear the conversation happening inside.
A light patter of cautious footsteps. "Papa...? I'm home.'
"Tch... where have you been? Wandering around foolishly in town again, huh?" A gruff voice responded, heavy on drunkenness and daze.
"I was playing with a new friend!"
"Friend?" Scratching laughter rumbled from inside. "What idiot would go play with a dirty brat like you? If you're gonna lie, make a better one!"
"It's true!" protested Arlo, scampering further inside with a protective bit in his voice. "He's really cool, and he gives me lots of food!"
"Food? Let me see it, where is it?"
"I... there was no food today, but he gave me some before!"
Silence followed for a moment, before Kaden heard a deep grumble vertebrate in the air, and the weighted rustling of somebody hobbling over—closer to where Arlo stood.
"Enough lies, brat. Give me your arm, it's time for your medicine."
Arlo gulped, and seemed to take a few steps back. A tremble wrapped around his words, evidently fearful. However, Kaden could almost imagine the puff of his chest as he desperately worked up some courage.
"I-I don't want to today! It makes me feel sick, and, and it hurts! My friend said to say when it—"
Smash—!
There was the sound of something colliding into the wall with such force, the whole building shook.
Kaden's fingers dug into his palms, shaking.
"Are you talking back to me?"
A sentence that dripped with violence, followed by the soft whimpers of pain and the heavy footsteps of an adult man.
Arlo let out another yelp of pain, and the sound of rough movements echoed.
Kaden could hear the man fiddling with something, rummaging through a drawer before hobbing back over to where the boy likely fell. His heart rushed furiously; expression darkening with threat.
There was another struggle—the loser obvious in the clear disparity of strength—and a needle was jabbed multiple times into Arlo's slim arms.
A certain man at the door, fury pulsing off his entire body as he hand hovered over the handle.
No, Kaden stopped himself as he ground his teeth against each other, This won't help the boy. His actions would be a temporary measure to a situation that needed permanence.
What could he do?
It was hard to think as he heard another groan of pain from the child, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could run in and pull Arlo out right now, beat that man half-blood and—and then what?
He couldn't whisk Arlo away into a better home so easily. The child already harbored a certain fear towards adults, so he couldn't toss the boy to any open arms.
Not to mention Reed's monitoring was tightly knit, and Kaden bringing back a random orphan would do more harm than good.
But then, as his thoughts flickered wildly and he thought to screw the consequences, his lowered eyes landed on a slash at the bottom of the door.
Three slashes layered over each other to form a symbol.
Although it could be a mere coincidence, Kaden didn't think that was the case. Because he remembered, when he followed Reed's twisted instructions, that there was a particular mark the man liked to leave on his targets.
This house was one of Reed's marks.