❝𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚢,
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎.
'𝚃𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜
𝙰𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍,
𝙼𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍
𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍.
𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚓𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝,
𝙸𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚍,
𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍.❞
𝙸𝚌𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 – 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙰𝚡𝚎-𝙼𝚊𝚜

The scene was brutal when Damon got to it. There was blood in the snow with two bodies lying in it. The backseat of the SUV was wide open.

It looked like there were three sets of tiny footsteps. At least it was probably normal sized for three children, but the footsteps headed right into the woods...

And there was a blizzard coming...

Those kids were dead – if they weren't already.

"We need to find the kids as soon as possible," an officer said.

Damon went inside the trees, trying to listen for any sounds of children.

He needed to do something with his time, so why not volunteer as a police officer for fun, well besides tormenting his younger brother.

"Joshua and Martha Brooks—"

"Stabbed at least eighty times—"

"Bludgeoned with a tire iron and axe—"

Damon heard snow crunching underfoot somewhere up ahead, so he followed the sounds. He used his speed to catch up to them. He found one kid bundled up in a red snow coat.

The boy turned to look at him—

And Damon was thrown backwards into a tree.

Did that kid just telekinetically throw him into a tree?

Damon shook it off and caught up to the kid in the road coat and grabbed him.

The kid let out a high pitched scream and struggled against him. The kid was terrified so that's why he probably forgot about his magic and didn't snap his neck or something.

"I'm here to help you," Damon told the little brat, because he was, even though the kid threw him into a tree with their mind. "You want to be out in the blizzard?"

The kid at least stopped struggling, probably seeing Damon's point.

It took a bit but he managed to finally find the kid's sibling. They were wearing a blue snow coat, matching the red one, but just in a different color. The kid in blue wore glasses and looked identical to the kid in red. They found the other kid, this one a girl judging from their long hair, and they were wearing a purple coat, matching the other two kids' coats. 

It turned out that the kids were two boys, one girl, and were triplets. The one in red was Elliot, and the one in blue was Ashton, and the girl was Peyton. They said that Santa Claus had killed their parents because their dad had pulled over to help a man out, but apparently it didn't turn out well because Santa Claus killed their parents. He didn't even attempt to attack the triplets. He just laughed and took off, leaving them to die in a blizzard once it hit. Especially the night before Christmas.

Damon told himself that he didn't care, since the two boys were placed in a boys' home and the girl went to a girls' group home, an hour or so before the blizzard finally hit.

But Damon found himself worrying about the triplets' wellbeing for some reason, because it didn't seem right to him seperating the triplets like that, especially since they've been through a horrific incident like watching Santa Claus murder their parents. Luckily the boys had each other, the girl had no one.

He tried to put them out of his mind, since he did his job – he found them and got them to safety.

He told himself that the three kids will be fine in the group homes.

No. No, they wouldn't.

He heard stories about group homes and foster care. They'll be split up and abused wherever they went, maybe find a decent home or so along the way, only for the cycle to continue. Especially the creeps who preyed on children.

They weren't his responsibility, he told himself as he got a bottle of Jack Daniels out. They weren't his responsibility, he told himself as he drank half the bottle. They weren't his responsibility as he told himself as he took out a laptop. They weren't his responsibility he told himself as he searched how to adopt some orphans. They weren't his responsibility but they soon will be, Damon told himself. Those kids were his...