"Can you tell us about what just happened in there, Alfred?" One reporter asked. "Oh, please! We'd love to hear all about your heroic deeds!" Another one, a bit farther back yelled. "How did you know that you would win?" Another asked, holding out his microphone.
Damn news reporters. Can't they tell I don't want to talk!?
Alfred sighed a deep sigh, pushing through the crowd of reporters, then on-looking citizens. He climbed in the waiting limo, laying back on the bench seat, looking at the ceiling. It had a few yellow lights scattered on a purplish-blue backdrop, looking like the night sky. He frowned bitterly, turning his head to the side, looking at the drinks stocked up in the cabinet. What was the first thing his eyes flicked to? The Russian vodka, of course.
In frustration, he covered his face, groaning. Dammit, Ivan! Why did you have to look so hurt? So…Helpless and empty?
"What have I done…" He muttered. The amount of stress on his shoulders was almost unbearable… You'd think that this would slide off easy. Almost like "Alright! It's over now, and Ivan can go and feel sorry for himself!" But when you see someone like that… who you share so many memories with, good and bad, you can't help but feel sorry for them, too.
He wondered where they went wrong, where the communication went astray. After thinking and dwelling on it long enough, he came to a conclusion. It wasn't Ivan's fault. It was his.
You stood there
in silence,
your sad gaze
full of feeling.
It brought to mind
the past I loved…
your last gaze
on earth for me.
You vanished,
silent angel:
your grave,
celestial peace!
All earth's memories
are there,
all the thoughts
of heaven, sacred.
Heavenly stars,
silent night!
-Vasíly Zhukóvsky
Ivan lay there, eyes shifting in and out of focus. So this is how I die... The words rolled across his mind like clouds covering the moon. The old warehouse was well, old. It was falling apart, and it made Ivan laugh ironically. I get to die somewhere in as bad shape as I am. A deep, rolling rumble was heard from the skies, seeming to make the mood even darker than before. After a while, Ivan got lost in thinking about his life.
When he came back to the present, a creaking of a door could be heard. Ivan attempted to focus on the now open door.
"Who's there..?" He barely whispered. He blinked trying to see who it was, but dammit... He'd lost too much blood, leaving him sick, dizzy, and virtually blind.
"Me..." Ivan heard the voice that had just been yelling at him. Essentially, he'd given up on himself, and decided that if he were to die, he'd want to go in peace.
"Please... leave...I don't want you to... watch me suffer anymore... I want this decision to be unanimous..." Ivan said just above a whisper. He reached for the knife in his pocket, pulling it out. He watched the other's face, barely able to see him still. Alfred seemed to be shocked, and before he had time to react, his knife was out of his hand and he was being put in the back of a car. He decided not to waist his energy resisting or fighting, so he relaxed against the cool tan leather seat and slowly passed out.
Hey! it's the author here! I can't decide whether or not to continue this, I had started this a while ago, and if it turns out that more than 5 people like it, I'll continue. Please write reviews and tell me how to improve, I'm always open for constructive criticism!
Thanks much!