I've seen the void. I've seen what I will become if I do not yield. Dead eyes hidden behind crooked sunglasses; snarling lips buried in a hideous goatee; a fucked-up brain buried underneath a shiny bald head. That's my future. There's no redemption, no silver lining, no unexpected twist at the end of the story to free me of my sins. Those I loved are dead. Those I will love will die. I am Midas. I am the corrupter. Take me to Hell and beg me to atone. There was no hesitation as I raised the gun to my head and pulled the trigger.

Nothing. Where was the bang? Where was the eternity in brimstone? "Why aren't I dead," I muttered to myself. A loud crash echoed through the tiny room as the rotten wooden door flew open and three men in black suits and face masks stormed inside. "Why aren't I dead?" I replied defeated as the gun fell limp in my lap.

"Jesus Christ," said the muffled voice behind one of the face masks. "This place smells like dog shit."

One of the men ripped the gun out of my hand and threw it into the thick lime green shag carpet under my feet. They were all screaming, waving shotguns in my face in some cheap ploy to intimidate me but it was all a blur. My head nodded down and I stared at the floor, at the lime green shag carpet, imagining the jaws of hell ripping through all the rotten wood and fabric below and swallowing me up whole and taking me home. Why wasn't I dead?

"Are you listening you dumb motherfucker?" a voice yelped as the butt of a shotgun was brought down on the top of my head.

Blood oozed out of the gash, I could feel it trinkling down my forehead. This was not the kind of pain I was looking for, I was looking for something a little more permanent.

"Got your attention now, Kane?" the smug punk said wiping the blood off the end of his gun on the drapes. "You've got 5 seconds to get up and come with us before I stick the barrel of my gun between your eyes and give these walls a new coat of paint."

I laughed. It had been the first time I laughed since god knows when. "You dumb fucks," I continued to laugh, I couldn't hold it in. "You barge in here, waving your guns around threatening to shoot me if I don't get up and come with you? I'm sitting here with a goddamn gun in my lap, I was going to do your job for you! So yeah, go ahead and shoot me. Put me out of my misery. I want to fucking die."

The guy who had hit me, ol' bloody gun, he seemed to be the brains of this group and lurched forward pressing his gun against my forehead. "Shut the fuck up and get on your feet before I grant you your wish you sick freak."

I stifled another laugh and rolled my eyes up to look at him. He buried the barrel a little deeper into my forehead but I knew he wouldn't do it. I could see his eyes in the holes of the mask, looking down at me trying to frighten me into cooperation. They weren't the eyes of a killer. They weren't Lynch's eyes. They weren't my eyes. There was a soul behind them. A shame too because I wanted him to blow my brains out, put me out of my misery as I failed to do seconds ago. I guess I had to live for a few minutes longer.

"You're not going to shoot me, and you're sure as hell not going to take me anywhere, so I will give you five seconds to take that gun out of my face and leave before I fucking kill you."

He didn't budge. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I gave him an extra second so no one can say I didn't try to avoid it. I grabbed the barrel with both hands and ripped the shotgun out of his grip, his two buddies standing on either side seemed too surprised to even move a muscle. Without getting up from the bed I jammed the shotgun under his chin and deep into his throat. He raised his hands in surrender like he'd learned from so many movies.

"Look into my eyes," I ordered him. "Look down into my eyes and tell me if I look like someone who would have the slightest hesitation over killing you right now."

He didn't move his head but I could see his eyes dart down to stare at me. His buddies stood in silence, their guns shaking ever so slightly in fear. They were just as harmless as him.

"Answer the question," I stated.

"N-No."

"Who sent you here?" I asked, the blood from my wound now sliding down my nose. "Don't lie because I'll be able to tell and don't give me a bullshit excuse like 'if I say, he'll kill me!' because I'm the one with the gun nuzzled under your chin. Reply with two words: his first name and his last name. If I hear so much as another syllable I'll splatter your insides over your charming friends."

"Harvey Shannon," he replied instantly. What a fucking pushover. The name didn't a ring a bell. Probably some two-time thug trying to make a name for himself killing the man who managed to take down The7.

"Why don't you go back to Mr. Shannon and tell him that if he wants me dead he can send some men with spines to come and plant a bullet right in my head; otherwise, leave me the fuck alone because I'm not interested in anything you're selling."

The shotgun of one of his buddies stopped shaking and a raspy laugh began to seep through the fabric of their mask. "Ok Kane, I'll admit it: I misunderestimated you," the man said in between laughs. "Put the gun down; we'll talk."

The man threw his shotgun onto the mattress I sat on and began to roll his mask up revealing a thin and pale face. His skin like ivory, even in the light, with deep bags under his eyes where all the colour from his face seemed to have sunk into. This was Harvey Shannon.

"You're good, man, you're really fucking good. That whole grab-the-shotgun-and-give-a-menacing-speech trick, that was beautiful. You live up to the hype."

I was a little sideswiped but I tried not to show it. I kept the shotgun jammed into Harvey's lackey and stayed silent. He finally gave up rolling the mask and ripped it off entirely, thin strands of jagged blonde hair rolled over his forehead looking like a row of shark's teeth.

He bit the corner of his lip as he put his hands on his hips and took a look around the dirty motel room. "I can't condone this way of living though, it's just disgusting. I know your daughter died but please, show some respect for yourself. A key priority to taking care of your body is giving it a clean and hospitable environment for it to flourish in."

I still had the gun under his lackey's neck but I could tell Harvey wasn't buying it. He paced past me on the bed holding his hands behind his back as he casually examined the room. "You've got my attention," I finally blurted out. "So what do you want?"

Harvey took a seat on the edge of the bed beside me and threw his right arm over my shoulder. "Kane...I'm going to say something and I know...I know I probably shouldn't but I'm just gonna come out with it because as my pop used to say you should never keep secrets with your bedfellows. I wish...oh, should I say this? I'm having...no, I'll say it. I'll say it. I wish I was the one who killed your daughter."

He paused for a second. I held back a reaction. "Do you hate me for saying that?" he turned to look at me as he asked. "Do you loathe me for saying I wish I could've stuck a handgun into your daughter's mouth and shot a hole through the back of her skull? That pisses you off a bit, doesn't it? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I guess I just have a big ol' blabbermouth."

I couldn't give him a reaction. He nodded to himself a few times in silence and then leaned over, his mouth right next to my ear blowing his stale breath down my neck. "Come on, pull the trigger. Show me that I'm getting under your skin. Blow that guy's brains the fuck out of his skull," Harvey whispered, I could hear the joy in his voice. "You're not going to beat me. You're not going to prove a point by killing my men. You're not gonna prove a point by sticking that gun in my face. I'm not scared of you. You think you're invincible because you're some suicidal piece of shit with nothing to lose? Give me a break."

He wrapped his hand around mine on the shotgun and pushed my finger into the trigger. The barrel erupted and the innards of the masked figure in front of us were spread across the drapes behind him in a split second. The other masked man dropped his gun and ran out, yelping throughout the parking lot no doubt waking up anyone not startled by the shotgun blast. I was finding it difficult not to show a reaction. Harvey looked over, his shiny blue eyes standing out in his bone-white skin, and he took the shotgun out of my hands and rested it on his lap.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," he spoke slowly and deliberately. "The police I mean, and they'll most definitely take you straight back to death row to pump you full of all those nasty chemicals you don't want coursing through your veins. And, judging by that gun sitting by your feet on the floor, I'm presuming you'd like that because you want an end to your miserable little life."

"What the fuck do y-"

"Please don't interrupt me while I'm talking," he cut me off harshly. "If you've learned anything from our brief time together then you should now that I'm not exactly the kind of person you want to be pissing off."

"Fuck you. You think I'm frightened of some wannabe psycho prick who kills his own useless henchman to try and instill a little fear in his hopeful hostage? It's been done, kid. Your parents didn't love you as a kid, that doesn't make you a bonafide lunatic, you're an Ivy Leaguer trying to pass off as a cold calculating madman."

Harvey laughed. He stood from the bed and laughed. "I think I'm going to get along with you Kane. Your friend Lynch, I had high hopes for him but he let me down. I held a razor blade to his throat and he begged for his life like a fucking girl. He's not some unhinged killer; he's a manic depressive with the occasional sinister urge. But you...you're different. You're willing to let me go as far as I want to."

"What the hell does Lynch have to do with this," I shot back.

"You and Lynch...hoo boy, you and Lynch have your work cut out for you," Harvey reached into his pocket and pulled out a long knife. "I've got big plans for all of us."

I reached down and grabbed the handgun off the floor; he made no attempts to stop me. I raised it up at him and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Why the fuck wasn't this gun killing the people it's supposed to.

"You tried to kill me," a grin formed on Harvey's face. "I like that."

Harvey lunged forward and jammed the knife into my stomach. "Tell me," he chuckled as he drove the knife in for a second time. "Do I seem like some 'wannabe psycho prick' from an Ivy League school?" he continued as he drove the knife in for a third and final time. "Before you black out, and you will black out, I want you to know one thing: you and Lynch...you're mine now. You're gonna do everything I say. "

"Fuck you," I wheezed out, falling forward onto the floor.

Harvey titled his head back and cackled. "This is the start of a beautiful friendship."

I struggled to keep my eyes open but I found myself drifting off into a deep sleep as Harvey wiped my blood off his knife on the drapes a few feet in front of me.