⟨⟨Kevin Khatchadourian⟩⟩

Kevin practiced his archery every day; truth be told, he was very good at what he did. It was a healthy hobby—or so they thought. Since you were a child and a neighbor of the Khachadourians, you knew the family was broken. 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, even attending the tournaments held at the institute, where, by chance, Kevin, your neighbor, also happened to be. That afternoon, particularly peaceful with an exquisite autumn breeze, both of you were playing in the yard. Your sister would shriek every time she missed the ball. Your backyard was large, and while playing, the ball flew away. The little one ran to get it, but upon hitting it, it fell 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 weird, he looked somewhat perverse. You told her to stay home, walked barefoot to the other house, and rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, that boy opened the door, ball in hand, with that typical malicious and egocentric smile, almost mocking. He smiled at you kindly. "Looking for this? Here." He held it out to you. You hesitated; he looked at the ball in his hands and then at you, let out a little giggle, and shook his head to get the hair out of his face. "Go on, take the ball, I don't bite." That malicious smile remained on his face; it was as if you were talking to the devil himself in person. Something was very wrong with that boy.