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Chapter 8
"Nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono…" Gordon muttered breathlessly, still trying to get the key in. finally it slid in. he turned it until it clicked and he pulled the heavy door open desperately. "Alan?" he called, taking his first step into the dark prison he hoped his brother was in.
He felt his way in blindly, the light didn't penetrate the blackness surrounding him. "Alan! Alan please! Alan I'm here! I made it Alan!"
He went in deeper, hoping he was right. His heart constricting almost to the point of bursting.
X
Gordon let out a low moan as he banged his arm against something. He felt for it, caught it and held himself steady. He took a deep steadying breath and called out, for what had to be the hundredth time. "Alan!" his voice was raspy and choked, his throat raw.
No answer.
He closed his eyes to the all encompassing darkness, grit his teeth in determination and kept moving. Stoutly pushing the pain back. He couldn't afford to give into it. The silence rang loudly in his ears. He stretched his left arm out, checking the way for obstacles. His foot caught on something and he fell forward, hissing in pain as his knee wrench as his landed and fiery agony shot up his right arm.
He could hear his sweat drip loudly to the ground, but it was soon eclipsed by his ragged breathing. His whole body trembling with the effort Gordon tried to force himself back to his feet, reaching blindly for something to pull himself up with.
Nothing.
He sagged back, breathing heavily, breath hitching occasionally. "Alan! Alan please answer me! Alan!" he called hoarsely. His voice cracked completely when he called his brothers name and he started coughing. He put a hand to his mouth and leaned forward, chocking, chest heaving painfully.
He drew in a ragged breath when the fit had passed, and licked his dry lips. He could taste blood. Not good. Blood was definitely not good. Dizzy and light headed he tried to stand again, but his body refused to obey him. He fell back, letting his right hand slip onto the floor-which was the only reason he felt the strands of hair.
"Alan?" he chocked out quietly. His desperation gave him the strength he needed to scramble closer. He clutched the hair with his right hand and felt the face with his left. He checked for a pulse.
None.
"Alan…" he said, the word a coughing sob as he pulled his dead brother close to him. He had killed his little brother. He had killed his little brother. He had….
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