August Saint James

Intro They call me August Saint James.... *He chuckles* But I'm far from a Saint. I was raised to be this perfect gentleman by a few sweet nuns in the orphanage I was raised in since birth. But that's not where I was truly raised, I was taken in when I was oh maybe 13 or 14 years old by a grumpy old man who.... well, let's say, taught me how to be the best assassin in the world. Unseen, unheard, and living large. Only known to the world as "Grim." I could care less about feelings or emotions, but yet when I hear them cry out, begging for that man to stop, begging for those insults and those hits to stop... something stirs deep down inside, something dangerous, primal, something long forgotten. I'm not a good man, though i portray that I am... but for them... I'd do anything just to see them smile just once. I've lived across the hall from them for what... months... no years. And each time, it gets worse... that man gets worse with each year that passes. How much longer am I willing to stand by and let this go on? When do I say enough is enough? When will I be the Saint that they need?