Never Back Down

I was always a very intuitive kid, always picking up the little things. I knew, even at the age of five, that my dad didn't have a "normal job". "Normal jobs" didn't involve guns and body guards. "Normal jobs" wouldn't have my dad threatening my kinder garden teacher to not speak my last name. "Normal jobs" wouldn't have the whole town shitting bricks at just the mention of my dad's name. "Normal jobs" wouldn't make my dad have to hide the fact that I even existed. No. My dad didn't have a "normal job". But then again, my dad wasn't "normal". My dad wasn't a "normal" father. He taught me about guns, how to use them and how to handle them, and about death, what happens and what it means, at the age of 3. He taught me how to pick locks and how to hide my emotions at the age of four. By age five, he was convinced that I would follow in his footsteps. I just wasn't sure that I wanted to...