Rant:

Alright, first thing first. A big, heartfelt thanks to everyone who left reviews. I love all of you. I wish to carry your child.

Seconds. I was unsure whether to make this a whole new story or just a whole new chapter, but I went for this. Hope y'all like it that way.

Third. I was a little unsure of the whole 'Jake'-thing you're about to experience, but I didn't know how else to solve the problem my head kept making up for me. I hope I don't get my head ripped off for it.

Fourths. Forgive me for the head-hurting ending here. I couldn't make up my mind about what to put there, so I left it in its current state.

Fourths II. Please enjoy this, and leave a review on your way out.

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Bryan stood at the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway. Rain water dripped down from his thin leather coat, making small pools of on the floor. Every now and then he blinked water out of his eyes. Apart from that small motion, he stood still, staring down the hallway with a stern look on his face. He clenched his hands into fists and let them relax again, repeating these motions over again. He closed his eyes for just a moment or two.

Here I go again. He thought to himself, opened his eyes with a short intake of breath and began walking down the hall with slow, heavy steps. It echoed in the silence as if it was the heavy steps of the…

…harbinger of doom, ran trough his head again for what felt like the thousand time that night. He sighed deeply.

"How damn dramatic…" he mumbled to himself and looked up at the numbers above the doors. He had already reached number '80'. He made a slight, displeased grimace and looked straight ahead instead. Just a white wall, but it looked so familiar. Too familiar. He increased the pace and gritted his teeth, not wanting to admit to himself that he actually didn't want to go there.

87…88…

Sounds from a commercial on TV that was turned on too loud. It soon disappeared.

89…

His coat rustled slightly behind him. A picture suddenly came up in his mind, a short movie about Death incarnate, pacing down a hallway with a cloak billowing out behind him, covering the space behind him in complete darkness. His face veiled in shadows, yet the bleak light from the door he stopped by reflected from his almost predatory teeth, making them gleam ominously in a malicious grin. He stretched out a hand and without any effort pushed open a door that should have been locked and barred from the other side, the light that welled out covering him completely…

The scene replayed itself for his inner eye again and again. With a frustrated sigh he pushed it aside, not thinking twice about it. Not thinking about why he had felt it was 'Death incarnate'. Not thinking.

He suddenly stopped and looked up at the number again. This time it was '97'. He turned around and walked back. '93'. Lei's place. No turning back. He wiped some water from his eyes and stretched his hand out to knock. The door swung in without resistance as he touched it. Bryan stood still, his hand still stretched out before him, and stared at the door while an icy sensation spread through his body in surges. A high-pitched laugh and sound of applause from another apartment woke him from his trance.

This doesn't concern you, a voice in his head he had began calling Jake said. Just go away. Go away.

Bryan glanced at the stairs and knew that he wouldn't blame himself for anything if he left. He didn't have anything to be blamed for in the first place.

DON'T go in there! What would you have to gain? It's idiotic just being here.

"I know." He mumbled to himself and opened the door completely. The apartment inside was dark. He felt a faint smell of whiskey and something else, something he still felt was familiar. He looked around for a while, trying to see or hear anything out of place. When he found nothing, he closed the door behind him and made sure to lock it. He smiled to himself, feeling the slight nervousness fade away, and flicked the light switch. He blinked in the sharp light and looked into the kitchen.

Fuck… Jake stated, almost amazed, inside his head. Bryan didn't say anything. He leant against the doorway, looking at the chaos still with a slight smile on his lips. For some reason, the sight of beer cans spread all over Lei's kitchen made him feel…

Proud? Jake suggested when he couldn't find a good word for it. Bryan shrugged slightly and kicked a can away.

No, not proud, more like… gleeful, right?

Bryan made a slight grimace and strolled slowly through the kitchen to Lei's fridge. He opened the door and scanned the containments.

"That sounds about right…" he muttered to himself and took out an unopened can of beer. He looked at the label, shrugged and opened it. He closed the fridge door, leant against it and looked out over the kitchen again. He could never have drunk all that beer by himself.

Where is Lei, anyway?

"Probably sulking in a corner somewhere, buddy." He said to himself and spotted something lying on the kitchen table. Just an old, black note book. He picked it up and looked through it without actually reading anything. Most of it was written in Chinese anyway and looked like it was work-related, a few pages were full of doodles. Bryan was about to put it back when he noticed a few pages in the back. He eyed them over and took a swig from his beer. He turned the page and saw that the last papers were torn out and appeared to have been shredded at places with the pen. He couldn't make any words out. He looked down on the floor, trying to find the papers that had been torn out, but didn't see anything.

Can't you feel it? He was writing about you. Jake gloated inside his head. Bryan muttered slightly and put the book back on the table.

You mean you can't? You have no imagination. So you can't see him sitting here, his hair covering his tear-filled eyes, desperately scribbling down rambling expressions just to get it off his chest before it chokes him? And he's drunk too, that just makes it harder for him to do anything. Mm. Nice. Isn't it?

"Shut up." Bryan grumbled and drank some more. He glanced at the bedroom door. He saw a corner of one of the torn out pages sticking out. He put the can of beer on the sink and picked it up. He couldn't read most of it, but one small sentence at the bottom stood out like it had been written in a different colour.

'i'm running out of air'

Bryan stared at the paper for a while and put it away, trying to push down the sour taste from his mouth. He could almost feel how the faceless man in his head he called Jake grinned at him.

Isn't there something about those words that remind you of something?

Bryan stared into the dark bedroom. The light shining in from the door didn't reach the bed. In a way he was almost happy. He could still leave and not have anything to regret. His eyes fell on the piece of paper again as if it was magnetic.

It doesn't ring a bell? It's…

"It's a suicide note…" Bryan whispered to himself. "Isn't it?"

He stared into the darkness again, his mind painting pictures of what was inside. He had imagined them before, over and over to himself.

You know how it will be… His expression will be a stiffened mask of fear and incredible pain, just like you want it. Like we want it. The blood will be drip-drip-dripping down on the floor, probably from his face or the back of his head, making small flowers burst out on the already soaked carpet, the oldest blood already drying…

Bryan put his hand on the light-switch. He felt a mix of fear and excitement. He found himself listening intensively to his inner demon's voice, as if he was a child listening to an exhilarating fairy-tale.

He's never had a taste for the dramatic, so it won't be anything fancy, right? It'll just be a small hole in his temple and the back of his head just a damn mess of hair and blood. All the treasures his head once held will he splashed over the wall in an ugly splotch, since he won't care if it's pretty or not. And he'll be staring at you. His eyes fly open the moment the cranium shatters and life escapes him in a cascade of red. His eyes will be staring forever at you. Forever and always, until you sit one day in a chair with a gun in your hand.

Bryan let go of the light-switch and frowned, staring down on the floor. He didn't have to ask.

Why I say that? Oh, you'll do that, believe me. One day when you realize you have nothing. One day when the two fuck-ups we are become too much for you to handle. One day when killing others simply isn't enough anymore.

"Shut up!" he growled to himself before looking up.

"Lei?" he asked loudly and took a quiet step forward.

I'll be there in the background, Bryan…

Bryan felt his leg hit against the end of the bed. He leant forward with outstretched hand.

I can tell you when to pull the trigger.

He felt Lei's leg. He moved to the side of the bed and sat down next to him, feeling his body press against his when his weight forced the mattress down. He was warm, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Then you'll be staring with an emptied head at the poor bastard who finds you. The only difference is that they won't care.

"Lei…?"