Devon peered again through the crack in the broken door, the wood barely held together by rusted hinges. He blinked twice, making sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him after the time skip—but no.
It was her.
In his past life, she had been one of the two women he truly held close. This life changed nothing.
He still felt the same.
Whore, traitor, disgrace—the words his father spat out endlessly. He had chased her from her own home.
The day she left was the last day Devon saw her.
He never had a bad memory of her. Even in the chaos of his lives, that warmth stayed untarnished.
Life had broken him piece by piece—betrayal, beatings, imprisonment, humiliation. Men hated him for his face. Women hated him because he treated them like equals, not fantasies. But none of that mattered anymore.
His journey from mortal to something greater—to a deity of his own making—wasn't a response to the world's cruelty. The world could burn for all he cared.
But she wouldn't let him.
She wouldn't let him stop caring. Stop being human.
He promised her then.
And even promises made across lifetimes still held their weight.
Devon had to think fast. She was getting closer.
He immediately ran off to his room and hid under the bed.
He heard the door open.
His mom stepped in.
The next thing that followed was a scream—no, a screech that felt almost inhuman.
"Honey—!"
She fell to her knees as she saw the figure she called her husband—his organs spilling out, most of his upper body torn apart.
She quickly pushed herself up from the pool of blood.
"Devon! Devon!"
Her voice broke as she burst into tears. She rushed into the kitchen, opening every cabinet, every cupboard—frantic, desperate.
Then she heard it.
"Mom?"
The voice came from behind.
She turned.
Devon stood there.
She didn't hesitate. She rushed forward and pulled him into her arms.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
She hadn't asked what happened.
She hadn't questioned how he was alive.
She was just glad that he was.
Grabbing her phone from the table, she called 911, her hands trembling.
Then she told Devon to go to his room.
He didn't argue. He turned and walked.
His eyes passed over his father's body.
Then he looked away.
His expression didn't change.
His mom seemed to notice—but said nothing.
After a moment, she called out:
"Devon… did you see what happened here?"
He paused.
Looked at the body.
Then at her.
His face remained neutral.
"I don't know. I heard shouting… so I hid under the bed."
She stared at him for a while.
Then nodded.
---
The police arrived a few minutes later.
Yellow tape covered the entire sitting room. Officers moved in and out, searching for anything that could explain what happened.
Devon and his mom stood outside, near the back of an ambulance. Someone handed Devon a drink.
A female officer approached.
"Good day, ma'am. I'm Officer Anna. I'm really sorry about what happened. I just need to get your statement—is that okay?"
"I wasn't around," his mom said, her voice cracking. "I came back from work and saw him like that… after that, I called the police."
She sobbed quietly.
The officer nodded, then looked at Devon.
"Hey there, kiddo. I heard you were around during the incident."
Devon sat quietly, holding the cup of tea, his face calm.
Too calm.
The officer studied him for a moment longer before continuing.
"Can you tell me what you saw?"
Devon's eyes drifted slightly, but he was listening.
"Like I told my mom… I wasn't there. I was under the bed."
The officer nodded slowly.
But something about him didn't sit right.
"Alright… did you hear anything? Anything at all?"
Devon looked at her.
Same calm expression.
"I didn't see or hear anything. I closed my eyes after I heard shouting."
She paused.
Then smiled.
"Okay, ma'am. I'll be taking my leave now. If you remember anything, don't hesitate to reach out."
Devon's mom nodded, wiping her tears.
---
Devon's gaze lingered on his father's body as it was carried out in a black bag.
Did she really care for him?
The man who had always treated her like shit…
Even now, she cried for him.
Devon watched silently.
Perhaps killing him now… had been a mistake.
Not because the man didn't deserve it—
but because of what it did to her.
She still cried for him.
Even after everything.
Humans were strange.
Weak.
…Or maybe he was the one who had changed.
He looked away.
This had always been his problem with the authorities.
Unpredictable variables.
Unnecessary complications.
But there was a bright side.
He was fourteen.
If they asked more questions, he could act traumatized. Fake a panic attack if needed.
At this age, no one would question him.
But he couldn't afford to get arrested.
He had chosen this date for a reason. This exact time wasn't just random, it was well thought out.
Every second mattered.
If he was going to save her… and reclaim everything he had lost—he needed this head start.
He couldn't waste it.
---
His thoughts were interrupted.when his mom reached for his hand.
"It's going to be okay," she said softly, wiping her tears.
Devon stared at her.
Then at her hand.
He stared at it for a long time.
He hadn't held it in…
how many lifetimes has he lived?
And yet this feeling still made him tingle inside.
"Come," she said gently. "Let's get you something to eat."
She stretched her hand toward him again.
"Come on."
He finally took it.
They walked to her car.
Got in.
She started the engine.
Then spoke—
"i know you know something " she said softly.
Then turned to face him.
"Devon, dear…"