Most of these characters belong to Anthony Horowitz. Only the girl and antagonist is my own creation.
(This is my first fanfic. So please, if you want to give flames, make it constructive and not just plain mean.)
West London
12:00 midnight
Prologue
A boy with short blonde hair sat on the side of his bed. His pale tired face was blank as he stared at the sharp, glinting blade in his hand. He smiled mirthlessly, ready to end his life. Memories ran through his mind, - flashed from his past.
He saw a six year old boy standing on the silver sands of a warm Caribbean beach. The boy was happy. His expression said more than enough and neither was he alone. His uncle, a tall muscular man stood beside him. His arm was draped around the boy's shoulders.
He knew who this was. This was Alex Rider. This was he, himself, more than a decade ago. He then saw again the black police car, bringing news of the death of his uncle. Life had become hell from that day on. He was blackmailed to become a spy and was then sent to save the world from evil egomaniacs against his own will.
His heart was cold now. The uncried tears and battles fought had left his heart and soul scarred. He was no longer afraid of pain. 2 years of non-stop espionage had taught him better. But he was undeniably afraid of death and what it might bring.
If there was life beyond death, what would it be?
Would it be like in those movies where heaven exists? Or would it be like what he felt he deserves.
Or maybe there is no afterlife? Maybe, he will simply cease to exist, only to be remembered by the worms and decomposers under 6 feet of earth?
These questions bothered him. A lot. They were the ones that had kept him awake for the last few of weeks. He knew that, somewhere deep in his heart there has been more to life than this. But if there is, what would it be?
A dry sob escaped from his lips.
"God, if you exist, help me…I need you," he whispered in a raspy voice.
He felt a tear slide down his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of salt. His hand released its grasp on the object.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of metal, clattering against wood.
Then he felt quiet. For some unknown reason he felt still inside for the first time in years. Darkness overwhelmed him as he lay his head back down onto his pillow. Before drifting off in to unconsciousness, he whispered again, but this time, hopelessness was void from it.
"Thank you…"
His prayers were heard, for God never turns a blind eye on those who truly seek Him. In ways he could never have imagined, God was already at work.