His memories would be wiped away, yet a small girl with red cheeks and brown hair would still find her way into his dreams. He would grow to hate the little girl for not being able to remember the memories or where she came from and it would drive him insane.

He would eventually become one of the world’s most trained fighters. Genetically mutated to the government’s liking. Turned into something he never wanted—something he never should’ve been.

Now you see that his legacy or the memories of who he was would never be remembered simply because there was nothing to remember about a twelve-year-old boy who should be dead. No family, friends, or loved ones to care.

He was a killer and I am he.

CHAPTER ONE

MAGGIE—THE PAST

I hated when the other kids laughed at him. They would push and shove him, not even caring that he was sick. Sometimes, I wanted to push them back or scream at them to leave him alone. Except I knew no one would listen to me. They never did. Instead, I sat in the background waiting until the moment I could swoop in and care for him.

He was taller than the other kids were, even at the age of sixteen, and just as cute. It didn’t matter to me how his skin was almost always ghostly white or how he would much rather not be wearing jeans but something that didn’t cling to his body. To me, he was perfect.

“What’s a matter, Diesel…? Maggie not make you your breakfast this morning?” Roger, one of the biggest bullies of them all, mocked Diesel. This was a normal occurrence on the bus. Every morning the same conversation would take place. I was starting to wonder when it would stop. Diesel ignored him like always and stared out the window. I watched from the seat across from him as Roger took the seat behind him and shoved his knees into the back of the seat.

Fury grew deep within me. Diesel had told me many times that me sticking up for him just made things worse and how there was nothing worse than a girl sticking up for a boy. It was against the rules. One would say I was a rule breaker.

“Knock it off, Roger,” I murmured. Diesel’s steel blue eyes turned to mine shooting daggers at me. I could tell by that one single look, I had angered him.

“Awe, what was that you said, Maggie? I couldn’t quite hear you—then again, most of us never do.” He belittled me, laughing as his friends joined in on it.

“Just leave her alone,” Diesel exclaimed giving them the satisfaction they wanted. They wanted him to talk to stick up for me—for anything—simply because it showed he had a weakness for something.

“You guys hear this… He wants us to leave Maggie alone.” Roger mocked some more, and I did whatever I could to not turn toward Diesel to see his expression.

You’re a weakness to him. They will use you to get to him. I repeated the same words over and over again in my mind.

I became momentarily distracted as I talked myself out of sticking up for him again. So much so, I hadn’t noticed Roger had slipped into my seat. His eyes were a deep brown and had most of the girls in the school falling at his feet. All except for me. I knew the meanness that was just under the surface.

“Maggie…” he hissed, one of his fingers gripping at a lock of my hair. A tingle of pain radiated through my scalp as a soft yelp left my lips.

“Leave me alone, Roger.” I kept my voice stern and strong not wanting him to think his hair pulling had gotten the best of me.

“Leave you alone…?” he mocked, a sick smile forming on his face. If Roger weren’t such a dog, one would consider him cute. He had that beautiful sandy brown hair. He was tall and played all kinds of sports. His parents could afford it, unlike Diesel’s or mine.

“Roger, this is taking it a little far,” Diesel said. You could hear the panic in his voice. Even if he said we weren’t friends because a dying person couldn’t make friends with someone in such a short amount of time, I knew I meant something to him.

“Does it bother you when I touch her, Diesel? Are you jealous?” Roger mocked, his hand slipping onto my leg. I was wearing a skirt, which was a bad wardrobe choice for the day. I swatted his hand away, only for him to bring it back and grip my thigh hard.

“Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth. Roger had never taken it this far. He had never tried to instigate in a physical way.

“Roger, let go of her.” There was vengeance in Diesel’s eyes, and his voice was strong. He moved to the edge of his seat and leaned over and gripped Roger’s shoulder.

“Get your hand the hell off me, cripple…” Roger rolled his shoulders forcing Diesel’s hand to fall away. I gripped Roger’s wrist prying it from my thigh.

“If you ever get done playing with the crippled boy… you know where to find me,” Roger whispered in my ear causing my hair to move. I could feel the heat from his breath against my skin and it just made me sick.

Without a word said, I turned away from him and toward the window waiting for him to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him watch me for a mere second, his eyes eating away at my body, and then as he slipped from my seat and into his regular seat a ways back.

I released the breath I had been holding and allowed fresh oxygen to filter into my lungs. Roger was a monster. The living, breathing kind your parents forgot to tell you about. The kind that had the power to make your life a living hell day in and day out. He did just that.

“I told you not to stick up for me.” Diesel’s voice was right next to me, and as I turned around to see where he was, I came face to face with him. His dark hair was long and slung back in a ponytail. He was looking at me with anger in his eyes, anger I had never seen.

“Well, I told you I wouldn’t let them pick on you anymore. They don’t know what they’re saying. They’re dumb.” They didn’t know the reason Diesel was sick or why he didn’t talk to others. They didn’t know it was because of the cancer that surged through his veins.

“They know what they’re saying, Maggie,” he scoffed, his attention going back toward the front of the bus. “You always try to see the good in people. You always try to protect the weak. What you don’t understand is I don’t need protecting.” He turned back toward me, his eyes boring into mine.

“You can’t save everything. You can’t save me,” he hissed out. My gaze slid down to his clenched fists, his body built up with aggression. I understood why though. I knew he didn’t want to be protected, and he didn’t want even one friend if there was a chance he would die—and there was. Friends meant when you died you would leave someone behind. You would have a reason to feel guilty about your death. He didn’t want that.

“I don’t want to save you, Diesel,” I murmured.

“Yes, you do. You. The doctors. My parents. They all want to save me. Everyone wants me to live except myself.” There was so much agony in the words he was saying. It was as if he knew his fate and that fighting it was inevitable.

“That isn’t true—” My words cut off as his hand landed on my knee gripping it. He wasn’t hurting me, but he easily could. Even if he was sick, he still had strength.

“It is true. Believe me when I say it’s true. I know what you all think. I know you assume sticking up for me makes it better, maybe you even think if you’re nice to me, when I die, God will grant you something special.”

“That’s not the p—” My words were cut off again as he squeezed my knee. Pain radiated up my leg, and I bit my lip to stifle the cry that wanted to escape my mouth.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie. I don’t want to do anything to ruin you, but whatever you think is going on between us, isn’t. Whatever help you think you can offer, you can’t. In the end, you only hurt yourself and bring more attention to me. Attention I have no need to seek.”