For those of you who read my last story, yes I am writing the sequel, but after I get all these ideas out of my head.
Heidecker
"Nikita!" I yelled, and luckily she moved out of the way, and shot Heidecker, killing him. As soon as that monster was dead, we walked over to each other occasionally looking into each-other's eyes, but nothing more. I wasn't ready for anything more. To my relief she was okay, and even though our relationship is on thin ice, I'm happy she's ok.
It feels different. Being worried about her feels different. It used to be a 'If I don't find her in time, she could die', but I guess after all these years, I finally trust her to take care of herself. She is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her anymore. I think she has a million lives, and she will always be okay.
Nikita's POV:
"I don't feel it anymore." I accidently let my mind wonder and the words just slipped out of my mouth. How it had ever come to this, I have no idea.
"What are you talking about?" She sat up, and looked deeply at my face, as wetness flooded down, down, like a river. "Nikita what's wrong?"
"He's changed so much Alex." I said, as more wetness flowed down my face, as if I were just taking a shower. She enclosed me in a friendly hug, but it only made me miss him more.
He has always focused on one thing and one thing only, but I had always been that one thing, and now all he cares about is how to fix this problem. He acts as if it's a sickness, and to some extent it is, but only for him. I don't care that he is minus one hand. What I do care about is that I am the one who caused him the loss of that hand. His screams haunt my dreams. His face blinds me in the darkness. My whole life has become darkness. Even 'our' apartment feels different. As if it knows what it's missing. The sound of children playing around in the halls has been replaced by a violinist playing sad songs. The smell of flowers has been replaced with the smell of burning ashes. What is burning? My happiness. My hopes and dreams. My love is dying faster than a fire can burn up paper, and I don't know how to slow it down. The place that I call home feels as warm as Division. The hum that used to only be in Division has consumed my 'home'. Home is a word that had been unfamiliar until we bought this apartment, but now, I smell his cologne, his last meals' plate still rest' on the table. His favorite dinner sits in the refrigerator, rotting like bread. 'I wish you'd come home' I told him. He told me 'soon' but from the way things are going, I wonder how soon he will return. Will he ever return?
"Are we talking about Michael?" She reluctantly asked.
"Yes." I replied as I began to wipe away my tears.
"What happened?"
"He's going to a dark place… I just don't know how to stop him from spiraling out of control."
"What do you mean?"
"He wants to go after Heidecker's associates. 'Take what we need, and go'." I recited his words from earlier.
"But, those people are-"
"Dangerous? I know. He won't stop you know. He won't stop until he gets what he wants. He's morphing into something less tactical, and more careless. I have a bad feeling that this is only the beginning."
I don't know how many chapters I will write, but it will hopefully be intense.
-Iris