Marcus
The cellar door shook and rattled noisily, as someone on the other side wrestled to dismantle the locks. I raised my pistol, anxiously waiting for the perpetrator to finally show his face.
"Don't hesitate to shoot M," Wrench muttered. "It's either him or us."
This was the moment I've been waiting for. My muscles quivered with anticipation. I've been beating my head against the wall day after day trying to find those responsible for Sitara's kidnapping. For a long while, every clue I found had led to nothing, and every trail I followed had gone cold. It would have been easy to give up. I could think of a million other things that required my attention.
Despite all the pitfalls, I didn't let up. And finally, after so many restless nights of gathering intel, and following the most minuscule leads, I found my way here, to the lair of the murderer himself. The eyeball trophies and the lady tied to a chair with a hole in her face was a dead giveaway that we were in the right place. There had to be plenty more incriminating evidence hidden in the dark corners of this cellar for us to turn over to the cops. We just had to make it out of this alive first.
The cellar door opened with a squeal. A tall, broad shouldered man appeared, his burly frame and pale face laced in the night's shadows. His fingers were clenched tightly around the wooden handle of a large axe. I winced at the sight of it's sharp, iron bladed edge. It was heavily stained with dried blood. Lord knows how many innocent people he's gutted so far with that thing…
At his side was a black, and lanky four-legged creature standing proudly in the darkness. It growled deeply as it inched forward into the light. It was a dog, standing proud and erect, globs of drool dripping from its mouth. The muscular creature sported no leash nor muzzle, and snarled at Wrench and I aggressively. Thankfully, it didn't charge us. Its rust marked paws remained rooted against the ground at its owner's side.
The man and I stared each other down, silently sizing one another up. He was fucking huge, attempting to take him on in hand to hand combat would be suicide. He also happened to have an attack dog, which complicated things. The ferocious creature could cause some serious damage if provoked.
Thankfully I had a gun, but even so, the whole 'shoot first and ask questions later' motto never sat well with me. Pulling the trigger was always last resort, and considering the dog and the axe wielding stranger had yet to make any rash, sudden movements, there was no need to make any hasty decisions on my end either.
Holding him at gunpoint presented the perfect opportunity to pry him for information. I had a ton of questions. Rationally, I decided to ask him the most important question of all first— the one question that's been really irking me since the moment I got here. "Dude, the fuck is up with the eyeball trophies? Like really? Of all things to collect— baseballs, coins, books, comics, video games, Jimmy Siska movies maybe… you decided eyeballs? Why? Does stealing people's eyes and stuffing them in jars get you off or some shit? Do you tend to marvel at your precious collection every now and then to make yourself feel like a bad ass? Or is it just some creepy thing some bat-shit crazy murderers do to remember their victims?"
He raised his head toward the cloudy, night sky. "God, do you want them?" He asked aloud, his voice was unnervingly harsh and gruff like sandpaper. "Shall I bleed the lambs and drink the holy blood?"
"M-Marcus," Wrench stammered, huddling close to me. "This guy is fucking nuts! What are you waiting for dude? Shoot him already—"
His flinty glare darted to us. "I'd keep an eye turned to the shadows if I were you, little lambs. You're outnumbered."
A creaking noise from overhead stole my attention. A trap door hidden within the ceiling swung open, and a wide body slipped through into the cellar's darkness, it's weighty footsteps clacked against the gravelly floor with haste, heading straight for Wrench and I. My pulse pounded in my ears as the shadowy, unknown figure threaded toward us. Instinctively, I aimed my pistol at the imminent threat and squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot exploded throughout the spacious cellar. The footsteps came to a halt, followed by a deep groan. Boisterous, vicious barking erupted from the slobbering dog. Without delay, it lunged at me fearlessly, descending the stairs at a frightening speed. The enraged creature's swiftness allowed me only a split second to react.
I stepped aside, dodging the attack. Wrench, who was positioned behind me, was unable to avoid the dog's incoming assault in time.
"Fuck!" Wrench screamed as the dog sunk its teeth into his leg. The animal's brute strength and heavy weight forced him onto the ground. Teeth deeply embedded in his flesh, the dog tugged and shook its head side to side fiercely, attempting to rip the skin clean off his ankle.
Wrench's blood splattered onto the walls and floor from the dog's onslaught. Heart thrashing against my chest, I hurried to his rescue, wrestling the animal off him and throwing it aside.
"Wrench!" I knelt before him and examined his wound. His leg was badly battered and bloody. "Oh fuck man," I mumbled, covering a hand over his bloody wound. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not fucking okay," he uttered painfully. "Do you understand why I fucking hate dogs now? They're all evil!"
The dog scrambled into a stance, resuming its balance from being thrown. Instead of charging again, it merely growled, licking the blood off its lips. Reluctantly, I drew my gun on the infuriated animal. The thought of hurting a dog, no matter how untamed and aggressive, made me sick to my stomach. But I wasn't gonna let it harm me or my friends. Fuck that—
A cold, hard object pressed against my neck, freezing me in place. I gazed down, laying eyes on the iron, bloodstained axe head. Fear clogged my throat, rendering me speechless.
"Trying to kill my dog, are you?" The man asked, his massive frame hovered over me from behind. "Disarm, little lamb, and God shall spare you his wrath. A great deal of heretics have lost their lives here, a shame if you and your friend were to join them."
As difficult as it was to think straight with an axe to my neck, I had a hunch that this crazy motherfucker was a religious extremist. The constant use of biblical references was an obvious sign of his strong faith. Earlier, when he gazed up at the sky, he was behaving as if he was speaking to God directly. My guess was, he was murdering people in the name of his deranged religious beliefs.
It won't be easy trying to talk my way out of this one. Bible-thumpers alone were difficult to reason with. It had to be borderline impossible trying to reason with a religious radical. And there was no way in Hell I could try and fight. I'd have my head cleaved off in a second tops.
We were royally fucked.
"You have more fight in you than the others. Admirable, but futile." He snapped his fingers at his dog, and it immediately crouched down submissively in response, the intimidating growling ended abruptly. "I ask you again, disarm. Or, I remove your head from your shoulders."
"O-okay," I stammered, warily lowering my gun. "Be cool man."
He kicked my pistol across the dusty floor, and withdrew the bladed edge of his axe from my neck. "This is my home, and I don't take kindly to trespassers. It's time you slept, little lamb. Don't be afraid. My penance will be swift, painless. I won't kill you… yet."
"Fuck you, you crazy, fucking asshole," Wrench snapped, his muscles quivering. "Lay a hand on Marcus and I'll fucking kill you. Do you hear me? I'll scoop out your eyeballs and feed it to your stupid ass dog, see how you like it. Wouldn't that be the perfect slice of just deserts for a shit stain like you?"
The man ignored Wrench entirely, and raised the sturdy, wooden end of the axe handle over my head. "Sleep, little lamb, for the hour of God's judgement draws nigh. Bless these misguided heretics, for they do not understand the awesome power and unconditional love of the Lord. Forgive them for their sins, their selfishness, their daily dishonor of your name, for they do not know what they do…"
He continued to chant aloud. My breathing grew harsh, my stomach churned with dread as I waited for the deranged rant to end. Good Lord, he was preparing to strike, ain't no way this shit was gonna be painless. I grimaced, cold sweat trickled down my forehead. There was soft whimpering coming from the shadows, the woman with the hole in her face must be alive and kicking somehow. She's probably been down here for a while now, being toyed with and tortured day after day. No one deserved to go through that kind of suffering.
If I had a choice in the matter, I'd choose a quick death, painless, and straight to the point— preferably with my eyes still attached to their sockets.
Wrench's trembling hand grasped mine tightly. "You're gonna be okay man." He said weakly, gripping his bloody, mauled leg. "Just breathe."
I shook my head. "T-this can't be happening. How am I gonna have an open casket funeral if he carves out my eyes dude?"
"I don't think you'll need your eyes for that bro. Just your eyelids. You're good, assuming he doesn't collect eyelids as trophies too."
"With our shit luck, he probably does."
"He's not gonna kill you, I don't think. He's just gonna knock you the fuck out. Best case scenario, you'll get a minor concussion. Worst case scenario, he fractures your skull. Unlikely though, M. I think most people can agree you're pretty thick-skulled."
"Is now really the time to be making jokes?"
The man was still ranting, going on and on about God, and some nonsense about our holy blood. Fuck, what was taking him so long? Why wouldn't he just get it over with already?
"My leg got absolutely chewed to shit by a rabid dog, and a strange, bible-thumping serial killer with an optical organ fetish is about to be violently assault, and possibly kill my best friend right before my eyes." Wrench sighed. "So no, now isn't a good time to joke around, but fuck it. I know a losing battle when I see one, and if I can share one more laugh with you before it's all over, then it's worth it." Two bright carets formed on Wrench's mask. "At least we aren't dying alone, right? I'll be right here with you to the very end, promise. And I know you'll be here for me too, M. Believe it or not, but things could be a lot worse."
Somehow, regardless of everything, he remained positive, and found a way to make light of our terrible situation. Ain't too many people in the world crazy enough to smile in the face of death, but Wrench was definitely one of the few. His optimistic demeanor was damn near contagious.
I should have listened to him that sunny afternoon outside his garage. He warned me about how dangerous these people were, but I shrugged it off. After taking down some of San Francisco's nastiest gangs and most influential tech giants, I thought I could handle anything, no sweat.
I couldn't be more fucking wrong. It's bad enough that I got myself into this situation, but I also dragged Wrench down with me. He knew the risks, yet he still volunteered to help me with the investigation. I was grateful he stood by me through it all, but I still felt guilty. He deserved better than this.
Despite the tendrils of fear, remorse, and raw hopelessness latching onto my heart, I returned a weak smile at him.
Crack!
A sharp pain penetrated my head, the sheer impact of the blow caused my brain to quake violently against my skull. The sound of the wood colliding with my head echoed harshly in my ears. I sunk down onto the floor, clenching my throbbing head. There was a slight dampness in the back of my skull, it had to be blood… my blood.
The aching was unbearable. My sight blurred, and a lightheaded, woozy sensation overwhelmed my senses. The dark cellar wouldn't stop spinning and spinning…
With every second that passed, it became more difficult to keep my eyes open. The thought of passing out terrified me. What if I didn't wake up? If I were to die, where would I go? Was there a Heaven or Hell? Would I become a ghost? Was reincarnation actually a real thing? Or would there be only darkness for the rest of eternity?
Despite how much I tried to fight it, I couldn't hold on any longer. Wrench's hand remained firmly clasped around mine as my willpower and consciousness faded away. All in all, it was comforting to know he was still with me, to the very end, just like he promised.
There was crying, raw, hysterical crying. A body hovered over me, rocking back and forth in absolute anguish. The screaming sobs had a feminine edge, and sounded all too familiar, but I was too disorientated to fathom who exactly it was.
It was a woman sobbing, no doubt. Small droplets of her tears dripped onto my face, trickling down the side of my cheeks. I could taste the saltiness of her grief on the tip of my tongue. Her crying would cease for only a brief moment, as she struggled to draw breath. The emotional pain pouring from the depths of the woman's soul was so raw and unbridled that my heart grew heavy as well. Was she crying over me?
My cranium was still aching like all Hell, and there was a harsh ringing in my ears that wouldn't let up for even a second. It was a miracle I could distinguish the crying in the first place. The hit I took to the head really fucked me up. I must have a concussion. I've had my fair share of them in the past, but this one took the cake as the most painful by far.
I had to get up. I needed to open my eyes. But my body wouldn't listen, my muscles were severely fatigued.
Soft hands latched onto my jacket, and began to shake me roughly. It caused the throbbing pain in my skull to intensify from the sudden pressure. A groan of agony escaped my lips, yet the woman continued to jerk me around desperately, occasionally pounding her small knuckles against my chest in a fit of anger. Fuck, I couldn't tell if she was trying to revive me from the brink of death, or trying to finish me off.
"Please stop…" I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. "That ain't helping…"
The crying came to an abrupt pause, and so did the shaking and hitting, thank the Lord. "M-Marcus?" Undeterred by the ringing in my ears, I was finally able to distinguish the familiar woman's identity by the tone of her sweet, sultry voice. The realization of who she was hit me the moment I heard my name leave her lips. I sighed contently. Maybe my shit luck was finally turning around.
"How you doin' girl?" I feigned a smile.
Sitara sniffed, and threw her slender arms around me, holding me tight. "Jesus Marcus, don't you ever, ever scare me like that again. I-I thought you were…" She paused to sniff.
"Thought I was dead?" I planted a kiss on her wet, tear shrieked cheek. "Nah, I'm good. What are you doing here?"
"I came here to save your ass! Thank God I found you." She gave me a once-over. "Marcus, you're hurt. I told you to take me with you, why don't you ever listen to me?"
"Relax, I was just playing dead this whole time, so I could get a jump on the murderer when he least expected it. Trust me, I had it all under control."
"Fuck yeah he did, can't get rid of M that easily," Wrench uttered. His tone was much weaker and more faint than normal, even with the aid of his mask's robotic, built in voice modulator. "Truth is, I've been sitting here this whole time because my feet hurt, this dog bite is nothing. I woulda' kicked that dude's ass a long time ago, but I decided to wait for M to execute his master plan instead. That way, we could jump em' at the same time."
"You both are so full of crap," Sitara stated. "Seriously, can either of you walk? We have to get out of here."
"I sure as shit can't," Wrench mumbled.
"Unless you're planning on carrying us both out, I'm gonna need a sec'," I muttered. "I feel like total fucking shit right now."
She gently removed my hat and smoothed a hand through my hair. "You said your head was hurting, hun? What's the matter?" Her hand jerked back once her fingers touched over the dampness in the back of my scalp. "Oh my God, you're bleeding. What did he do to you?"
"I'll tell you all about it later. For now, I need to focus on getting up…"
"Just hurry up and pull yourself together Marcus," Sitara demanded. "We have to get moving soon."
I opened my heavy-lidded eyes, finding myself still trapped within the killer's cold, shitty cellar. I was still in a daze; the room was spinning and I felt nauseous. My limbs refused to move. It was gonna be a while before I regained my composure.
The repulsive stench of death hung heavy in the air, it smelled like someone died in here. Fortunately, the room wasn't cloaked in darkness anymore. There were lit, wax candles attached to the walls, the flickering yellow of the small flames illuminating the space with dim lighting.
With the cellar's shadows kept at bay due to the candlelight, I could fully examine the room. There was staggering amount of surgical instrument tables positioned about the room. They were all covered with dirty scalpels, forceps and drills of all different sizes. It seemed excessive, how many tools did one guy need? Maybe he liked variety or something.
One thing was for sure though, he definitely wasn't fuckin' around, buying all this damn surgical equipment. He was determined to get his eyeballs. Most likely, he preferred to collect undamaged organs, and with the proper tools, he'd be less likely to puncture them on removal. An average knife wouldn't be able to do the job.
There was a large streak of blood staining the dirty floor, leading toward the corner of the cellar. At the end of the trail was a fat, bearded dude dressed in nothing but a black vinyl apron, jeans and boots. He was perched against the wall, his body stiff, and unmoving. He was dead. No wonder it smelled so bad in here.
There was a bullet hole in his chest. He must have been the shadowy figure I shot at earlier, who dropped through the trapdoor and tried to ambush Wrench and I. Well, I guess that's one psycho murderer down. One more to go.
However, the axe wielding psychopath was nowhere to be found. The woman with the hole in her face was gone as well. I couldn't say the same for the dog though. The dog laid at the bottom of the cellar's steps completely still, unconscious.
"You took care of the dog, Sitara?" I asked.
"Yeah," she wiped her tear shrieked face. "I didn't have much of a choice, it attacked me on sight. Nothing a good ol' Thunder Ball can't handle though. The poor pup is gonna be out for a while."
"Good riddance," Wrench stated. "Doggo needed an attitude adjustment."
"But what about the lady?" I asked. "And the crazy guy?"
"He dragged her out of the cellar shortly after you passed out M," Wrench explained. "Don't know what he did with her."
"Damn," I frowned.
"He knows I'm here," Sitara said. "But he thinks I'm upstairs. I managed to sneak in here without him noticing, but we don't have much time."
"I have gut feeling he already knows you're down here," Wrench said. "Did you hear how loud you were bawling your eyes out over M? Seriously, you deserve an Oscar award for that star performance. Not even Viola Davis' character in 'Fences' cried that hard, and her whole face was practically covered in snot—"
"Will you stop joking for one second Wrench? We need to get the Hell out of here." Sitara crouched before Wrench, and examined his mauled leg. "Jeez, that looks really bad. Does it hurt?"
"It did, at first. Now it's numb, can't feel a thing."
"That ain't a good sign," I said. "Best not to put any pressure on it."
"C'mon, let me help you up," Sitara said. Wrench threw an arm over her shoulder, and she pulled him up into a stance. Unable to balance himself on his own, he held onto her for support. "Marcus, what about you? Are you okay? Can you stand—"
The cellar's entrance swished open. "Little lambs, I have returned," the deep, scratchy voice of the serial killer filled the space. His clunky boots stomped against the wooden stair's creaking floorboards as he slowly descended into the cellar.
My nauseous stomach hardened. Damn, not this motherfucker again.
Sitara and Wrench's eyes darted to me for guidance. I pointed up at the trapdoor overhead. All three of us could easily climb through if I could get my lazy ass up in time. In my current state, I was practically dead weight, they would be better off leaving me behind, but I knew they wouldn't. Both would fight to the end for me, and I'd do the same for them.
Ain't no way I was gonna let them die trying to defend me though. I choked down the pain and discomfort, and with all the strength I could muster, I shuffled into a stance. I stood on the tip of my toes and pushed open the trapdoor.
"Sitara, you go first," I demanded, grabbing ahold of Wrench and allowing his narrow frame to lean on me.
She gracefully leapt and clutched onto the trapdoor's frame, pulling herself up with ease. She lowered her manicured hand back through hole, reaching out to us. "Wrench, take my hand! Hurry!"
His fingers intertwined with Sitara's. Due to his injury, he was unable to jump. Thankfully, he was light, so it was easy enough to give him a boost upwards.
"Must drink the blood, the holy blood…" The murderer was closing in, dragging his axe behind him. The bloodstained edge grinded against the floor as he slowly approached me, the blade producing an ear-piercing screeching sound like nails scratching a chalkboard. I shuddered, chills running up my spine. He was only a few steps away, and with Wrench and Sitara finally out of harm's way, it was now or never.
I lunged for the trapdoor's opening, and seized the edge. As I was heaving myself into the safety of higher ground, a massive leathery mitt captured my ankle, restricting my movement.
My heart raced, and my muscles quivered with adrenaline. "Fuck me," I cursed my luck aloud, attempting to kick and wrangle myself free, but to no avail, the grip on my leg was steadfast, and unyielding— it was as if the more and more I struggled, the tighter the hold became.
"Marcus!" Sitara and Wrench shouted in unison, hastily rushing to my aid. They grappled onto me, struggling to tug me out of the deadly clutches of our pursuer.
However, their strength combined wasn't enough. The rough, gloved hand gave my leg a stern, powerful jerk. The overwhelming might of the pull caused me to lose my grip on the edge, and I was yanked downward, right out Sitara and Wrench's grasp.
The trapdoor snapped shut the moment I fell. My back hit the cold, solid cement floor. Spasms of pain shot through my lower back and spine from the impact. I clenched my jaw to stiffen my grunts of agony.
Just fucking great… I was trapped in the damn cellar with the religious lunatic yet again, although I was all alone this time around. Yeah, this was certainly gonna end well for me.
Axe in hand, he towered over me, brows furrowed angrily. Now that there were no shadows to hide behind, I could clearly perceive his features. He was a middle-aged man, probably in his late forties or early fifties, wearing blue, dirt smudged overalls. His dark, unkempt hair was freckled with gray, and deep furrows bracketed his gaunt, pasty face. There were various scars and deep cuts embedded in his skin, the guy must of have fought a shitload of battles in his life. Maybe he got them from his victims, not everyone was willing to lay over and die. Some people had to put up a fight.
He gawked at me, thoroughly analyzing me from head to toe. His frigid, blue stare made my flesh crawl. "God wants you." He stated, lifting his axe over my chest, prepping for an attack. "God demands the lamb's holy blood."
Last time I had laid here, I was dazed and barely holding onto my consciousness, rendered immobile by excessive fatigue. Adrenaline pumped through my veins this time around. I wasn't afraid anymore, and I refused to go out without a fight. It wasn't in my nature to give up.
He swung his sharp, hefty axe straight for my torso. I shifted out of the way just in the nick of time, and shoved my foot into his stomach. He recoiled back, eyes widening with surprise. His moment of hesitation allowed me to spring into a stance.
"What? You thought killing me would be easy, huh?" I grinned. "Nah, you're gonna have to work for this holy blood, motherfucker."
"Die!" He exclaimed angrily and bolted forward, quickly closing the distance between us. The lunatic unleashed a barrage of furious strikes at me with his axe. I dodged every swing, patiently abiding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back. His attacks held a lot of force behind them, but they were far too slow. So long as I had breathing room to avoid his sweeping lunges, and didn't back myself into a corner, I'd be fine. Hopefully.
He decided to try and gut me with a sluggish, overhead swing. I stepped aside, and drove my fist into his throat. He gasped, dropping his axe to clutch his neck. The blow knocked the wind straight out of him. I followed up with a punch to his jaw, and a swift elbow across his face. He buckled, tumbling to his knees.
I launched my foot toward his face, hoping to knock him out cold. However, his burly hand locked onto my leg, holding me in place. In a flash, he had resumed a stance and shoulder charged me into the splintery wall. The brute force of his charge caused the rotting wood to cave in on my back, creating a gaping hole in the wall. I grinded my teeth, struggling to endure the aches and spasms tearing through me.
His giant hand enveloped around my neck, and he squeezed as hard as he could, the veins in his enormous, muscular arms protruding his skin. I coughed and choked, my heart pounding violently against my chest. No matter how much I punched, kicked and wrestled for freedom, he wouldn't fucking flinch. I gasped for air desperately, it felt like I was burning alive from the inside out. Small freckles of black and blue spots began to distort my vision.
I couldn't hold on for much longer. No, no, no, I couldn't go out like this. God damn, there had to be something I could do to get this big motherfucker off me.
My eyes darted about the space. There was an instrument table right beside me, teeming with small, sharp scalpels. I snatched up the nearest pair and jammed the blades into his neck. He yelped, backpedaling away from me.
I sunk onto all fours, taking in large clumps of oxygen and wheezing harshly. The same woozy, lightheaded sensation I experienced earlier gripped me once again, causing the room to spin.
I closed my eyes, and took a good moment or two trying regain my composure. Once I opened them, I noticed a shadow lingering over me. I hesitantly peered up, and laid eyes on my enemy. Neck spotted with blood, he stood tall, seemingly undeterred by his wounds. Unlike me, he had already fully recuperated from our scuffle, the small scalpels I stabbed him with lying in the palm of his hand.
I sighed heavily. Welp, I was fucked.
"So…" I mumbled, my voice hoarse from almost being choked to death a moment ago. "About what I said earlier, regarding your eyeball trophies. You know I was playin', right?"
He bashed his foot into my face, my jawbone shattering beneath his large, steel toed boot. The brutal kick forced a tight groan out of me, an intense pain exploded throughout my skull. Overwhelmed by burning and aching rippling through me, my body gave in completely. I collapsed onto the floor, my mouth growing moist with the bitter tang of blood.
"It's over, little lamb," he said, raising his leg over my chest. Without a shred of remorse in his cold glare, he stomped down on my rips repeatedly— again, and again, and again. I wanted to cry out, the agony of each merciless blow far too much to bear, but I couldn't make a sound. All I could do was gargle over my own blood, my throat clogged by its thickness.
His ruthless assault came to a sudden halt. "Don't be afraid," he said. "Death is the ultimate truth that every soul must face at some time or another. I am releasing you of this burden you call a life."
Every single fiber of my being was hurting immensely. I couldn't move nor speak. All I could do was lie here, and wait for the end.
Little did he know, I wasn't afraid. Not anymore. Sure, I was alone, and I literally felt my own heartbeat coming to a slow, but oddly enough, I was cool with it. I was just glad Wrench and Sitara was safe. I could care less of what happens to me.
Truthfully, I was tired of the anguish and suffering. Maybe he was right, life was a pretty big fucking burden. I spent most of it trying to balance the world's problems on my shoulders, and going above and beyond trying to solve them. I never took out much time for myself, I always put everyone else's needs first.
A lot of the time, my selflessness got me into deep shit. Usually, I found a way out of it, but all in all, was it ever truly worth it? It felt good to help people, no doubt. It was easy for me to get so caught up worrying about someone else's happiness, that I'd forget about my own. I didn't regret how my life played out, but if I had one chance to do things differently, I'd devote more time to myself. Of course, I'd never stop defending those who were too weak, scared or brainwashed to do it themselves, but I think I deserved a vacation, or two.
I had no idea how Wrench, Josh and Sitara would cope with me gone. Damn, I hope they'll be okay. Horatio's death really affected them all, but they got through it. The tragedy brought us closer together instead of tearing us apart. Maybe they'd be able to deal with losing me too. Bright side was, I'd be seeing Horatio again soon. I missed the shit out of him.
There was a lot I never got a chance to tell Sitara. She didn't know how deeply I felt for her. Lord knows she wasn't perfect. She was hotheaded, bossy, and prone to random mood swings. And when we clashed heads, it wasn't pretty. But then there were the good times, where her and I got along, and could just vibe. Everything in the world felt right. Her heartfelt compliments and sweet nothings alone made my stomach flutter like mad. I wanted to be around her all the damn time. Whenever she was away, I couldn't get her off my mind.
I didn't think it was possible to form such a deep connection with someone. I wasn't sure if it was love, or an extreme case of infatuation, but I'd do anything for her. She made me happier than I ever thought possible. I was lucky to have had her in my life.
The pain was beginning to fade into numbness, and the reality of my untimely demise had begun to sink in. My eyes grew wet, and tears came flushing down my cheeks in waves. My heart ached, as if my sorrow alone was clawing and shredding it to pieces. The crazy part was, I didn't feel sorry for myself. I was ready to die, I accepted my fate.
My sorrow was all for Sitara. She just about cried her heart out when she had mistaken me for dead earlier. The thought of leaving my baby behind for real terrified me. How would she cope with it? She has been through so much lately. It wasn't fair. I promised I'd be there for her. Shit, how did I let everything fall apart like this?
"Worry not, little lamb." He returned to my side with a pistol in hand. "For I shall recite a prayer for you, to help you on your way to the heavenly kingdom. I, humble disciple of the God, shall lay this lamb down to sleep. I pray the Lord his soul to keep…"
He aimed the gun's black barrel at my head. I closed my watery eyes. My entire life flashed through my mind, starting from my earliest memory when I was just a hardheaded kid, struggling to make it through the day in the ghetto, up until now, where my journey was about to end. I came a long fucking way. I risked everything joining DedSec, and changed the damn world because of it. I've done more in my short life than most people could ever dream of. I promised myself I'd never stop fighting the good fight, and here I was, about to die for it.
I wouldn't want it any other way.
"Should he die, allow his spirit into your loving embrace," he continued. "So his sacrifice shall not be in vain."
Bang!
The gunshot rang out into the world. I waited anxiously for bullet to pierce my skull. The problem was, I didn't feel anything. Was I dead? I didn't feel dead, although, I wasn't sure if being dead even had a feeling. Because if I were dead, my nervous system would had ceased function, so I wouldn't be able to feel anything at all—
"Marcus!" Sitara's voice filled my ears. I hesitantly opened my eyes. The murderer laid face down on the floor before me, a bloody smoking bullet hole in the back of his head. Sitara studied the corpse carefully from a short distance away, holding a gun tightly in her grasp. "Is he dead?" She asked.
I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me. This made the second time she had saved me in one night. Seemed like she wasn't gonna let me leave her anytime soon. Well shit, I was more than grateful. I owed her my life. I'd follow her anywhere, and stick by her side for all eternity if I could.
But for now, I really needed to get to a hospital, or I wasn't going to survive the night, let alone an eternity.
So this chapter was rather dark, well, moreso than the others lol. I hope it wasn't too much. If so , don't be afraid to let me know. I appreciate feedback.