My Time Of Dying
By Breech Loader
Breech: Changed the cover image. Also, this is not my most important story. You're better off following it than checking every day. If you want my best story, go read and read and review "Prison Island Break: Season 2"!
Gotta say I'm very flattered at how much you like this though.
The song I listened to for a good chunk of this was Globus' "Save Me".
Chapter Four: Save Me
I ran away from New Knothole two weeks ago, although I only remember about half of it. And right now I'm staggering down a street in the mess of a city that is Westopolis with a half-empty brown bottle in one hand and an empty feeling in my stomach that refuses to be filled up with the drink.
Tonight, the sky itself is in despair.
Cool. I guess I'm pretty poetic when I'm out of my head on cheap whiskey.
I take a deep draught from the bottle, and crush it in one hand. The glass is shredding up my skin but… I'm not really paying attention. Recently, this can actually be classed as a good day.
I prop my shades onto my forehead. Good. Gas station up ahead. I stagger up. Head in. The guy at the desk looks up, sees me… I think he's panicking. Fuck him. I head to the big fridge, pick out a new bottle, and drop it and a handful of small change on the counter.
"Take it, Man! Take it all! I don't want any trouble!"
Oh yeah. I'm not exactly an unfamiliar face in this dimension. The 'trying to take over the world' thing a couple of years back. Yeah, I knew there was no future for assholes like me. Also, his squawking voice makes my head pound.
"Shut the fuck up. Restroom."
He points, and I stagger in. I don't lock the door or sit down. I just look at myself in the mirror and try to think about how much I hate myself today, and every other day before and how I plan to do so in the future, until I get around to killing myself again.
Where've I been getting the money for the drink, anyway? Not sure. And when did I last eat? No, wrong question. When did I last buy food? I've been spending all the money on the drink. Must've been at Sonic's place when I ate properly. And my fur and quills are filthy from sleeping in dumpsters, which is ironically where I've been getting my food.
Then I double over the sink and throw up for a while.
Look back into the mirror. Pathetic. I'm not a king. I'm not a bad guy. I'm not even an opportunistic pickpocket – at least, I guess that's where I got the money for the drink. I'm an itinerant bum; a shit-stain on society, trapped in a worthless life and waiting for a miracle I don't deserve.
"Go away," I tell my reflection. It doesn't, "Well then, fuck you."
I stagger out of the gas station, ignoring the guy at the counter. He's probably calling the cops and frankly, I don't care any more. I just stagger down the road in the pouring rain and bite off the bottle cap and keep drinking.
Oh God, oh Sonic, I miss you so bad right now… but I can't go back… I don't belong with you…
I stagger some way down the road slump to the ground and lean back against the wall, bottle in hand as the rain soaks me. There's gotta be something more to life than scraping left-over cheese out of pizza boxes. Trouble is, I can't find it any more.
How low do you have to sink before you hit rock bottom, anyway? Is that even possible?
"Well, if it isn't 'King' Scourge."
I look up, "Wha… Miles? What… what're you doing on Mobius?" Yes. It's fox-boy with the black hair. Can't hardly speak or think, but I know damn well this little punk isn't supposed to be here; he's meant to be back on Moebius, getting together his plans to take over from Fiona like the back-stabbing little cunt-nugget I know he is.
Now he's talking into a cell-phone, "Yes, Miles Prower here. I'm found him," he lands a kick in my stomach which I barely even feel thanks to all the drink. I just throw up again, "No, he's no threat. Trust me on that."
"Who… was that?"
"You know, when Fiona said you'd gone downhill, I swear I never thought I'd find you looking like this," he smirks and grabs me by the jacket, pulling me up, "When you got kicked out, Fiona made me her Royal Adviser."
"She doesn't know you like I do."
"No. Gotta say, looking at you like this, I could almost feel sorry for you. I mean, we've been at each other's backs all our lives. But she was supposed to be your girlfriend," He smirks and drops me down, "She changed her mind about kicking you out though."
"She… did?"
"She was just going to send the Destructix to find you, but then she figured she'd rather make sure of it herself. Smart. Unnecessary, but smart."
"She… wants me back?" I feel hope rise up inside of me, rolling onto my back. Then I throw up and it goes all over my own face.
"Well, yes and no. But mostly no."
"Then… why…"
"Oh, come on, Scourge!" I look up at the familiar voice, "You're not going to stay down forever," Fiona mocks me, "True, you're completely and utterly worthless, but you always manage to bounce back. Remember when you were nothing but a punk in No-Zone Prison? You got over that."
She's wearing my crown. Fucking bitch is wearing my crown. Well of course she is, and it's not like I deserve it, but still… bitch is wearing my crown?! "Feh… I guess…"
"So, you could say I'm taking pre-emptive action. It was going to be that I was going to kill you…"
"Go right the fuck ahead, whore…"
"But Miles is right. You are so completely pathetic and totally harmless," two members of the Suppression Squad lift me off my feet and hold me up in front of her, "Look at you!" she's clearly referring to the mud all over me, and the way I've just thrown up, and that my quills are just matted with grease, and I must smell terrible, "The question is whether I kill you… or…" she runs a finger down my chest gleefully, "You'd look very good chained to the foot of my bed… After a wash, of course."
That makes me stop. I'm fine with dying. I deserve to die. My life is filled only with pointlessness. But being a slave? Seriously, anybody's slave? Nuh-uh. Not happening.
So I slap the bitch right across her smug face. With my hand that's full of a bunk of glass shards. I'm numbed by the drink. Damn but it feels good to hear her scream. She touches her cheek and looks at the blood and screams again.
"Kill him! Kill him now!"
They throw me to the ground – they want to hurt me, but hardly anything hurts now. Except the way they're busy kicking me, of course. Yeah, there's only so much pain the drink can numb. And the more they kick me, the angrier I feel. And the angrier I feel… well, it's kind of pathetic at first, but I'm actually trying to fight back. A bit.
Gotta admit, that's a damn good way to get killed even faster, but they're gonna kill me anyway and… well, somebody's just kicked me in the face, dizzying me up, so I spit out some blood. I flail helplessly and get a few more kicks to the gut. I for one know that's an awesome way to kill people – you can keep kicking them for hours. They'll only die eventually.
Still, I'm not exactly in a position to admire technique. I hate myself, I hate them… Fiona goes and threatens me with being a sex slave and I still have enough dignity left to not want that… I can think of no good reason to continue my life, but a part of me is still protesting… telling me that I should want to live.
And a thought does spring to mind; a reason to live. Sonic. I wouldn't be sad if I was dead, but would he? It's not like he wanted me to leave. I miss him so much… I can't feel myself any longer. I just want to be with him… When I die, I'll go to Hell, and all it needs is an absence of him…
I can't help it. He's not here, and I miss him, and… I'm crying. At least I think I am. It's still pouring with rain. I'm muddy and my quills are greasy and limp and I am not going to make a pretty corpse.
Then one of them picks me up. I manage to glance aside at Fiona. Yup, that glass cut her up pretty bad. Well, she's not gonna be so goddamn vain for a while, huh?
"We could do this all day," Miles tells me as a couple of guys hold me up, pulling out a knife, "But we'd get tired."
"Funny," I groan, "I always thought you'd end up stabbing me in the back…"
He grins, that sneaky little grin of his. Now I'd sworn to myself while I was being kicked around on the cement that I would face this shaking with some goddamn dignity. Me and dignity. That's not usually two words you see in the same sentence. But no. The knife sinks into my chest and there's nothing I can do but scream.
God damn, there's blood all over the place… mixing with the rain, running down my body… Then he does it again, and I scream again and there's more blood and I'm gasping. I manage to raise my head to look at Fiona nursing her cheek, and damn, what a smug bitch.
"HEY JERKFACES! LET HIM GO!"
I think I'm imagining the voice because… it sounds like… And then a blue blur rushes past me and knocks them all to the ground, and I drop too, bleeding and miserable in the gutter, where I belong. Damn, the rain is cold and it's waking me up a bit and man, I hurt really bad and I'm dizzy and there's blood everywhere.
"Sonic…"
"Scourge!" The Blue Blockhead kneels down beside me, with the Suppression Squad lying around unconscious, or wisely pretending to be, "Man, I- we've been looking everywhere for you! Then some guy called the cops and… oh man…"
Yeah, I guess he's seen all the blood too.
"Sonic… why? Why'd you…" I spit the blood from the kicking out of my mouth and onto the pavement, "You know I wouldn't…"
"I don't know… maybe because I know you wouldn't?" he tries to pick me up, and I can't hold back the cry of pain, "Sorry! Sorry! Here, I'll just…" he shifts me to lie back down in his arms, so that it doesn't hurt so bad, "Just hold on; the other guys know you're here and they're right on their way."
He's warm. He's the only warmth I feel right now, and I press my face against his chest to be closer to him. Because he's better than I am. Always will be. He's fumbling with a cell-phone and talking to his buddies and telling them to bring medical aid or something, and then he's looking down at me and trying to smile… wiping some of the mess off my face and there's… rain… on him too.
"This is what I deserve," I'm trying to see where I've been stabbed, but it's not easy. I clutch at where the pain is, and my glove is soaked red in a few seconds. I'm still breathing at the moment, so I guess Miles missed my heart – probably because it's so black and shrivelled – but oh damn, I'm getting blood all over Sonic now too, "Oh man, Sonic… I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry I dragged you into my shitty life…"
"Scourge, it's okay," he loops an arm around my waist, helping me to sit up a bit, and I've got one around his shoulder now, "You care about me for who I am. And when you hate me, you hate me for who I am too. Because we know each other. We understand each other. Just hold on…"
I look up at him… into his green eyes. And he's honest, which is better than I'll ever be. And he's holding me close, and stroking the rain and the tears away from my face, "But I… I thought… I just thought I was making you all… faggy… I had to go… couldn't ruin your life like that…"
"Scourge, I don't know how things go on Moebius, but here, homosexuals aren't hunted down and burned," he grins a bit and helps me to sit up more comfortably, "And I… well…"
"So… you are…" I try to curl up to him, panting a little. Breathing too deeply makes my chest hurt, "Does that mean… I am… too?"
"Listen, don't worry about it. What's important is that you…" we both look at the mess. It's sticking to him too, "Oh man, I should've gotten here sooner…"
"I…" I look away from him for a moment. I think I'd blush, if I had the blood for it, "I don't want to die…"
"Relax. Just relax and hold on to me. I haven't let you die yet, have I?" Our eyes meet again. Is he..? Yes, he is. He's worried about me. Nobody's ever been worried about me before. Even with all the pain that goes through me every time I twitch, and the fuzzy feeling that tells me I'm running low on blood, it feels good…
Damn, finding out you're a fag in a gutter that's awash with mud and rain and your own blood… how dramatic can you get?
I can't see anything but him, with us getting closer and closer, "It's not… your fault…"
"That's not why I came."
And then our lips meet.
I have no idea who started it, just that now his arms are cradling me, and my one hand that isn't clutching my stab wounds is stroking his cheek – although rather stickily. I close my eyes and our lips start moving, real slow. He's so soft and hard and warm… I can't feel the rain any more. Can't feel the cold, or the blood. All I can feel is him… and us… together.
And I don't know who says it, but the words hang in the air…
"We understand each other…"
And I'm trembling against him as the kiss grows more passionate, but so, so slow. Then there's a moment… a moment where the kiss ends and we look into each other's eyes… him looking at me, a bloody, drunken, dying mess, and me looking at him, strong and honest and loving.
"Don't leave me again," he orders me gently.
"I… I don't want to…"
And then we kiss again, the rain pouring down on us both as our lips move, and he holds me even closer. The emptiness is just rising up and over me and if there's one last thing I want to feel, it's him… and for the very first time in my life, everything is just perfect…
And then it all goes dark…
Now I'm standing alone in the moment of truth
As the judgement's handed down,
And my feet are scarred from the broken glass
Strewn across the ground,
Then you come to my side,
And only to you I confide,
That I've been battered and shattered and bruised and abused
For the very, very last time,
Won't you help me, just save me from fear and pain,
And love reign o'er me,
Save me, Save me today,
For tomorrow will find me at rest…
Save me from fear and pain,
And love will rain on me,
Save me today,
And tomorrow, find me at rest…
Breech: REVIEW!
Because you know what?
THIS IS NOT THE END. Unless I get bored. Or forget…