…Like holding the secrets to the heart of man.

Many times people have tried to take them away from me—businessmen, philosophers, politicians, and even the supernatural.

They want control or understanding but I take out my gold whip and rip it from their hands.

I remember one evening, I was walking home, the damn keys were illuminated by the moon. I just passed 9th Street and I was going to be home soon when I bumped into something:

Hard.

I look up and it’s none other than one of Jack’s “key-snatchers”.

I realized that I was being surrounded. They were pulling out all the stops this time. It amused me.

“Key bearer” cronie one declared as if anything about him was intimidating.

He was like a walking skeleton trying to keep his joints together.

“Give us the keys.” He said as I laughed in his face.

“You know, you really crack me up. You realize I can knock every one of you to the ground. So why the empty threat?” Jack wasn’t this stupid. Did he really think numbers would change the game?

I’ve held these keys since I was a toddler, trained by a master, my entire body is honed from years of fighting.

“We’ve brought a gift to exchange for the keys” he clattered.

“What? Money? Trinkets of power? A promotion—“

“Your sister.”

as two of the Cronies brought out a five year old girl, holding her by her hair, grasping her arms.

She was a fighter though.

Biting.

Kicking.

Anything she would do to get free.

“Don’t give it to them! That’s our dad’s remember?”

I clutched them in my hand.

How could I forget?

Dad was lost to us because of these.

“Your choice.” Crony one demanded. “Just know that my friend there is very quick with a blade.”

I saw that his friends hand was molded into that of a knife.

“Key? Don’t.” My sister Locke said as I saw silent tears streaming from her face.

I looked at the keys around my neck.

What was I going to do