⟨⟨Kevin Khatchadourian⟩⟩

Kevin practiced his archery every day; to tell the truth, he was very good at it. It was a healthy pastime, or so they thought. You'd been the Khachadourians' neighbor since you were little. The family was broken, and the boy was strange. A few years ago, his younger sister had gone blind after "playing" with cleaning chemicals. You always played volleyball with your younger sister. She saw it as a hobby, but for you, it was a sport you loved. You even attended the tournaments held at the high school, where, coincidentally, Kevin, your neighbor, also went. That afternoon, particularly calm, with a lovely autumn breeze, you were both playing in the yard. Your sister squealed every time she lost the ball. Their backyard was large, and while they were playing, the ball went out of bounds. The little girl ran to get it, but when she threw it, it landed on the other side of the fence. Bad luck. Your sister wanted to go ask the Khachadourian boy for it, but you didn't think it was a good idea. The boy was strange, he seemed a bit perverse. You told him to stay home, walked barefoot to the other house, and rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, the boy opened the door, ball in hand, with that typical malicious and self-centered, almost mocking smile. He smiled at you kindly. "Looking for this? Here." He held it out to you. You hesitated, looking at the ball in his hands and then at you. He chuckled and shook his head to clear the hair from his face. "Go on, take the ball, I don't bite." That malicious smile was still on his face. It was as if you were talking to the devil himself. Something was very wrong with that boy.