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**Shane**
My plan was working out perfectly. I had made them kill more and more people and the town was starting to notice. Amelie had mostly kept us out of the papers but not all. And when walking around town, I'd seen the growing fear and panic in their eyes. It was time to get Henry.
I had been keeping my hands clean. For some reason…I just couldn't. But I refused to believe that it was my conscience. That was ridiculous. It was simply that they couldn't arrest me for anything if I hadn't done anything. But now, I was going to take out Henry. I was going to make him pay.
We had slowly been taking out his followers, those closest to him. He had to be terrified. I couldn't wait to watch the light die in his eyes as I killed him.
I walk up the stairs that lead to Henry's apartment, grinning in anticipation. He has a pair of thugs guarding his door, leading me right to him. They both are huge, over six feat easily, and bulging with muscle. I can tell from the blank looks on their faces that they have way more muscle than brains. Easy.
I sneak up on the first one and swiftly jab the silver stake in, the gloves I wear protect me. His eyes widen in shock and horror as he clumsily tries to grasp the stake protruding from his chest. He falls to his knees and then slumps to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head. Dead.
The second one isn't so easy; he lunges at me, punching swiftly towards my head. I duck and wrench the stake from his dead friend's chest. He lands a solid punch to my right eye, but I grit my teeth against the pain and kick my foot out at his knees making him topple to the ground.
"Please," He whispers as I stand over him, stake in hand. He trembles in fear. Pathetic. "Please." I plunge the stake in. His eyes widen, and his body arches upward once before he takes a last gasping breath. I stand up and kick the door in. The apartment is sparsely furnished; he obviously didn't plan to stay here long. I find him in the bedroom. The closet to be exact.
"Shane," He says grimly. He is dressed like some stupid cowboy wannabe from his hat to his boots. "I was thinkin it'd be you. I'm guessing that you're here to kill me."
"You don't seem surprised."
"I always thought you'd come after me," He says with a sigh. "Subconsciously, maybe I was even hopin for it. I can't stand livin without my Lilly. Just go on and finish me boy," He says tiredly. "I won't fight."
I stare at him. No. No. He had to fight. It was no fun otherwise. It wouldn't be satisfying.
"You better fight. Or I promise you I'll make it as slow and painful as possible."
"I ain't gunna fight you boy. Do what you like."
"No. You ruined my life. You destroyed me. You're going to fight." I say shaking with fury.
"Do you think that killing me will take away the hurt Shane? Do you think it will take away the ache, the emptiness inside of you? It won't. Believe me, I tried. You were my revenge Shane, and every day since I did this to you, I've felt worse and worse. Go ahead and try, it won't help you any. That's my satisfaction. "
"You're lying!" I scream with rage. "Shut up!" I see red and I rip the closet door off of its hinges, flinging it across the room. I reach in and grab Henry by the shirt collar and toss him by the discarded door. "Get up." I say kicking him. "Get up!" I roar when he doesn't move. I rip a silver knife out of my pants and slash him across the face with it. The skin bubbles where it touches. He winces in pain but still he doesn't move.
"Fight! Fight you son of a bitch! Why won't you fight!"
"I told you why," He says infuriatingly calm. "Do what you want, but I won't fight you. I'm ready to die."
I slam my boot into his chest and I hear ribs crack. Henry groans and rolls over, closing his eyes. Why wouldn't he fight? I was tired of all his "you'll realize soon enough" shit. I was going to kill him. Why didn't he care? I plunge my knife into his stomach up to the handle. Blood pours out as the skin sizzles.
"Just fight me back already! Don't you realize that I'm going to kill you?"
"I do," He says face tight with pain. "In fact I'm counting on it. So do it."
"I will!" I shriek as I flash across the room and grab the stake. I hold it over him, hesitating. He coughs up blood and grins, his teeth are stained with it.
"Finish me boy."
"Rot in hell you son of a bitch!" I say and plunge the stake in.
"I'll see you there soon enough." He gasps. Henry's body arches, once, twice, before he spits up another mouthful of blood and his head lolls to the side. The light dies in his eyes, leaving them blank. I stare at him.
The stake clatters to the floor. I stand up, feeling strange. Empty. If I could have, I would have taken it all back. I wouldn't have killed Henry. Because he was right. I felt no satisfaction in his death. And, no matter how hard I tried to forget it, it hurt, the loss of everything good in my life. Despite everything, it still hurt. For a moment, I felt like my old self, I ached, I was empty. What had I just done? Then it was gone, and I was the new me again, though the emptiness remained.