Gillies believed in hell. He also believed that some people belonged there. Everything he'd done had been in fun, but he'd run out of games, and he had to admit he'd lost. The best games came with risks, and rewards, and now he was receiving his share of both. It was time to take his place where he belonged. Standing on this trap door was a bit poetic, like taking a drop into the abyss. This wasn't the way he wanted to die, but all he could do now was meet death when it claimed him. He didn't feel the trap door open, only the force of the fall overwhelming him in a rush of darkness, and the most horrible pain.
Fire burned his every nerve. Was this seconds? Maybe he'd already died, and this was eternity. From in the dark, a pale shape moved slowly closer to him until it resolved into a face. It belonged to the head he's once sawed from a body, the head he'd hidden and no one had ever found.
"Robert? Have you come to hurt me? To punish me for what I did to you?" James asked. He couldn't be speaking, not if his neck was broken by a nine foot drop and a rope.
It didn't have to end this way, dangling from an execution. He had the perfect solution to get away with murder that first time. He could have gotten away with anything he wanted. Instead, he'd spent his life on the run, with never enough time to make his next murders perfect, and all because Robert had been too cowardly to see things through to the end. No, that wasn't true. It was his own fault, really. This all started because he liked to kill.
He'd treated poor Robert terribly when they last met. He'd been so angry then, and he'd carried that around every day, until now. There was no space left for anger now that he was dying, or dead. Something else had crowded out that feeling, a torment of its own kind, but a relief as well. He was happy about how this had turned out.
Once people were gone, those left behind got over it. He'd told himself so every day, believing that would make it true. He only had to say the words, and he'd get over losing Robert. He'd never asked if the people who died got over the loss. Did Robert ever long for the life he didn't have? If this was forever, then maybe they could start over from where they had left off. They certainly had time to try.
Robert's head was attached to his body again, like it had never been removed. He realized that Robert wasn't here to hurt him. Robert was simply here for him. In hell, he'd finally found forgiveness.
James reached out to him, realizing not only could he speak, he could move. "I'm okay with going to hell, if you're here with me. Just don't leave me this time, and I'll forgive you."