This is a look of what I think it might have been Eliot's life context, what lead him to be what he was. It's also his vision of death, heaven and hell.
The first time he almost died he was nineteen; he and his army buddy's had gotten from a mission when the Hummer they were in drove through a landmine. The entire thing blew up and he got stuck under a huge, heavy, piece of metal for two night and three days. He was the only survivor, his rescuers found him already unconscious, a couple more hours and he would be gone.
At the time Eliot was a pure boy, serving his country, thinking his was protecting the freedom of those he loved back at home so when his vision became all blurry and his body went stiff and still, not fighting to keep warm anymore he accepted what was coming to him, thinking that was the reward for his loyalty; that when the suffering ended he'd de be back with his momma in heaven, where he belonged. That was the last time he believed he was going to heaven.
The second time he found himself knocking at death's door he was twenty-two, doing the dirty work for the secret services of some country that paid him so much he could have never said no; with that money his dada could finally retire and got the medical attention he so much needed and his seven siblings could all go to college and still keep a roof over their heads and food on their stomach.
He was caught, sent to a prison where the rats at night where his only company and tortured they after day for information that never slipped out of him mouth. If it did, he knew his family wouldn't get the money he had worked so hard for.
He lied down on the dirt, not being able to move as his limbs became numb and the voices and sounds surrounding became distant and distorted as if he was under water. He coughed and the taste of metal invaded his mouth letting him now his lungs were filling with blood. That was it, he thought; that was the end of the road.
He woke seven days later on a small town Hospital with more broken bones than what he could count and a sore body. He could have quit right there. He was too good at what he did though, and people just wouldn't let a man like him slip between their feelings, also, the cash they paid him was too much to refuse.
He bought his dada some horses and got the porch fixed and he paid his little sister the wedding she had always dreamed of.
After a few more jobs he stopped counting both, the money, his enemies and the trail of destruction he left behind. He could die any time now; he didn't care.
Eliot was not scared of death, he wasn't even afraid of how he'd die.
He knew he'd go to hell anyway so whatever pain he'd go through during the process of dying it would only be a small taste of what he'd be getting. If, by chance, there was no hell then, it would only be his much deserved punishment.
He was pretty sure there was hell because he needed heaven to exist and he prayed every day the people whose lives he took were there, safe and sound.
One day he got the news his little brother had been murdered on his own house, the house Eliot had bought him, along with his wife and baby. He later knew the people responsible for the death of his brother were hired goons that were avenging their boss for whatever thing Eliot had done to him. After that Eliot never returned home, he became blind with rage and stopped feeling guilty as he took lives.
He went work for Moreau and agreed he would whatever he wanted him to do as long as his family was safe.
He killed people, innocent people, so the third time he almost died was like all the others that followed. He didn't fight to breathe, he didn't fight to stay awake as his eyelids became heavier and heavier by the second because he knew, after what he had done, any day he got had been an undeserved present and now, it was time to pay his debt. It was indifferent, die and go to hell or survive and continue in hell. There was nothing for him on hearth, not anymore.
Eliot almost died four more times while working for Moreau until finally he decided he had enough and walked away. Strangely, Moreau gave him his blessing. Of course there was scorn on it for Moreau knew no man could walk away from what he was, especially not a man like Spencer, besides that, everyone was replaceable and the hitter represented no danger to him so why would him let the hitter go?
He never got back to being what he was with Moreau, he also never got back to being what he was before the army. He became a retrieval specialist; that sounded less a harmful than what really was and once again Eliot found his hands stained with blood so he stopped running away from it. He was not one to end his own life yet he started eagerly awaiting to meet the man that would finally end him…
Present day, Portland
This could be a time like any other, him lying on the concrete floor feeling colder by the second, with that awful metallic taste on his mouth and too much blood coming out of a bullet wound. His chest aches when he breathes and he's tired. He's dying, so, yes, this could be a time like any other except the voices around him aren't threatening, but caring and desperate as they see the life fleeing out of his body. His job is done, he thinks, he protected Sophie from being shot, hell, he protected them and that was his job. These five years were a blessing, a little of light in a darkened room, yet, it's his time to go and have is punishment for the good deeds he did with the team do not pay for all his sins.
He's still convinced he belongs in hell; he's sure of it so he lays there not fighting, awaiting his fate until a brunette leans over him and he feels her vanilla scent. He can't quite see her, no he can't admire her smile or her big brown eyes for everything seems like he's watching through frosted glass, and he can't extend his hand to touch her silky dark hair, but he can't hear her calling his name and he manages to twist the corners of his lips into a smile and call her with the last of his strenght.
"Soph..." He wants her to stay close and she does, holding his cold hand, squeezing his numb fingers so he knows she's there. He doesn't feel her hand on his and everything is blurred now so there's not even a hint of her in his vision, however, he still can smell her and he can still hear here asking him to stay. He doesn't.
He closes his eyes and all sounds fade away, there's no more pain, no more feeling could, no more bloody mouth, no more nothing, just that last vision of Sophie standing by his side and he feels blessed for he's going to hell, but he got a taste of heaven before he died. Just before he died...
Did you like this? I can write a second chapter where Eliot doesn't die so if want to see it, review.
Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you! ;)