Three chimes. Almost like the tolling of a bell, some ominous sound. A death toll? It doesn't matter. He can't hear it anyways. And even if he could, it wouldn't matter to him.
His heart is pounding, a fast, steady staccato. His time is drawing to a close and he knows it. He's always known his time would be short. It didn't matter what he did, or what he tried to do. It would never change the ending.
He hears the deadbolt slide back. The door opens and he sees his father's shadow standing there. He is dragged up off the floor and out of the closet. Somewhere in the house, he hears the sound of running water.
His father steers him through the dark corridors of the house. Those twisted, hateful passages. "You know this must be done for the good of the town, son." It sounds like his father is only saying this to absolve himself of any guilt he might feel—to justify his actions of what he was about to do.
Feeling as if the walk through the house was only an ethereal dream, Alex "wakes up" as soon as he sees the staircase. His brain struggling through the fog; the cloudy, mind-numbing shock of what will soon take place.
As soon as his foot hits that first step, his heart begins to hammer painfully against his ribs. Feeling as if any moment it will burst forth from his chest. The two make their way up the stairs and Alex finds himself growing short of breath as they near the bathroom.
Stepping across the threshold, the pale light glints off the tiles. Time seems to freeze, everything is stationary and this image will forever be embedded in his mind. He pauses to take everything in for one last time.
The marbled sink, nary a water-spot on it and still as impeccable as the day it was installed. The shower, still wet from someone's using it earlier. The bathtub, filled to the brim with water so still and tranquil.
His father forces him over to the side of the tub and Alex looks down at the water. So still, just like a mirror.
Without warning, he's brought down to his knees, head forced under that serene liquid, disrupting the tranquility of it. He struggles to get his head above the water, just enough so he can breathe. As he struggles, his lungs start to burn, the stale oxygen burning to be replaced. His mouth opens in a silent scream under the water, bubbles bursting forth. Reflexively, he takes a breath and swallows water, gagging, choking. His lungs filling with water. He begins to feel sick and vomits into the tub.
Trying to catch his breath, he still takes in more water. The entire time, his father's grip like an immovable vice. His struggles begin to slow and his brain slowly begins to fog and the edges of his vision begin to narrow and grow hazy around the edges. He's dying and he knows it. There is nothing he can do now. His body is too weak to continue to struggle anymore. His strength is gone and his vision has narrowed to pinpoints.
His struggles slow and finally cease altogether. He exhales for the final time and his vision goes black, everything is over. His last though, "One more soul to the cause" vanishes like a mirage, so fast it might not have even been there at all.
Let me know what I can do to improve my writing style.