Small water droplets trickled down the window of the old Motel. Ethan Mars simply observed this natural phenomenon blankly. Wondering why each droplet of water separated from each other as they flow quickly down, anxious to be apart.
"Rain, again." Ethan sighed, looking out the window as small droplets from before turned into an invasion of the waterdroplets; washing the place but at the same time flooding it as well. Ethan Mars hates the rain. He loathes everything about it. But now rain seems to be appearing more and more. It's inevitable since there is no way you could stop it from coming. He wanted it to just go away, he wanted to return to the past and change it somehow. If only he was quick enough to save Jason, if only he wasn't so absent minded and weak. Every second, every minute makes a lot difference and he knows that now. Nevertheless, there's the whole issue with reality and the way life works. What's done been done, there's no way of fixing anything that happened. Now, because of it, he couldn't bear to even look at himself in the mirror. The last time he even cared what he looked like was years ago, when Jason was alive.
He hated himself for losing Jason…
He hated himself for not being a good father…
He hated himself for losing Shaun…
More than anything, he hated the way he destroyed himself…
Each thought that traveled his mind made him tense with frustration. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist tightly, his body shaking. When will all of this end?
Funny, people never had this fear of rainwater before. But now everyone detests the tiniest sign of rain like it's some sort of evil omen.
He glanced down at his half-finger. Wondering if everything he did was worth all of this sacrifice. What if he couldn't save Shaun? What if they arrested him? How long before he had to endure all of these trials the killer gave him? Will it ever stop?
What if he's the killer? There's a possibility considering the recent black outs he's had the past week.
Ethan froze and took out the clue the killer left him. In a shoebox was a letter which said:
"Are you prepared to kill someone you love to save your son?" Beside it lay a gun and a name. He stared at it, perplexed by the set task. If he's the killer, why would he put himself through an excruciating mission like this? It doesn't make sense. Does it have to make sense?
"I am not a killer." He told himself. He placed the gun back gently in the box, slowly sealing it back with the rectangular lid. For a while, he stood still, completely still. Then, slowly, his gaze dropped down on the sealed shoebox again. His heart pounded loudly against his chest, beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. He opened the box; his hand shook as he removed the innocent rectangular lid.
"No, I am not a killer." He repeated the sentence in his mind. "Not a killer…" he said almost silently.
He swallowed hard. Lifting the gun up in his hand gently, shaking from the feel of the heavy, rigid metal coated revolver. It's times like this when he wished someone would just bust in the door and stop him from making all these wrong decisions. Then again, how could this be wrong when it's the only way he could get to his son?
No one means more to him than Shaun.
"Shaun…" he gripped the gun firmly. " I have to save Shaun…" Ethan grabbed his jacket sitting neatly on the chair beside him. Hiding the gun in his jacket pocket, he studied the name on the paper one last time before making a quick dash out the door.
Everything I do, I do it for love.
