He opens the door...
I sit patiently, not moving a muscle. Well, sadly, I am not immortal. So yes I have to breathe and twitch every now and then. I am confined to this horrible mundane pathetic shape, at least for now.
As I sit and wait, I reflect about the only thing I’ve ever really thought about for the past 5 years. One would think after 5 years one would just fuck the man and move on. But I can’t. I’m not sure of anything anymore, I’m not of who I am.
I’m not sure I want the job I’ve had my whole lives. I’m not sure I want to die at 30 years and have to kill a poor innocent pregnant women that has to give birth to a full grown evil man. I can’t take It anymore. I can’t take the crushing guilt that kills me from the inside out every time I “discipline” a poor soul.
I know what I want most, I want to settle down. I want to marry Mikey and make him happy every single day, I need him.
I need the one that haunts me both in dreams and nightmares.
Footsteps interrupt my thoughts, and I am suddenly dragged back to the reality, that is if my life is real, by an angelic voice tearing at my soul.
“What do you want with me?” Gerard asks from somewhere behind me. I swivel my chair around to look at him.
He stands alone, my faithful servant no doubt ran off in fear in case this man had lied about his identity. He eyes me wearily, as though expecting terrible news, which would make sense, since I rarely deliver good news.
“Cut the shit Frank, what did you do to my brother?” He cuts me off as though he’s an equal, or even superior. How dare he? How dare he question my authority, I who could kill his brother because of his foolishness, so he would rot forever with the guilt of death.
I stand angrily, and remove the whip I always keep in my left side of my robe. His false sense of ferocity falters slightly, but otherwise he stands defiantly and ready. His eyes flicker towards the exits, as though he has a chance of getting away. I step forward to fake him into automatically flinching, only to stride past him and shout down the staircase, where I know at least two of my slave are eavesdropping.
“Who the FUCK said you could listen in on my personal business?” I yell.
Almost immediately, two scared-shitless employees are at my knees, begging using various excuses to my blank face.
“Nevermind that now, I’ll deal wi-” I began but are suddenly interrupted by a quiet but prominent knock on my door.
I motion to Gerard, who had been simply watching me with a look of blatant disgust on his face to open the door.
He looks at me one final time with obvious horror, then starts walking towards the door, ebony hair clinging to the collar of his white robe.
I walk to the door of this terrorists house feeling like a man who is starting the slow trudging steps to the gallows. I swing open the door to find none other than my brother and best friend, Mikey.
He looks up hopefully, but then sighs and looks as though he is going to leave.
I automatically reach out to touch him, but then withdraw my hand as I remember that day 5 years ago. I get a better look at him as his face contracts as if he was going to cry, he’s if possible, even skinnier than last I saw him. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot and silent tears run down his face.
Suddenly, his mouth opens and words spill clumsily out in despair.
“Gerard, why the hell did you leave me here? You should've told me, you should’ve taken me with you, we could’ve gone together... Did you really hate me that much? Because I loved you, so much.” he sobs as he falls to knees.
I watch in horror, for there’s nothing I could possibly do, and five years worth of guilt rushes through my veins, heating my cold, dead body. My ability to speak the English language suddenly disparates on the spot.
He looks up at me with the most heart-breaking eyes I have ever seen on a human being. But then, suddenly a flash of recognition flashes across those eyes. Then, the sparks gone. I though I had imagined it until:
“G-g-gerard?” He stutters nervously.
He searches the, apparently to him,empty doorway, then a depressing look of disappointment spreads across his face. He keeps looking around as though he expects himself to generate giant spiders in his mind.
Then, slowly, I watch in horror as a last ditch effort crosses his mind and he sweeps his hand, getting closer and closer, to my paralyzed ghostly form.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
As if In slow motion, his hand collides with my thigh, and he lets out a short yelp of pain as his flesh singes and fizzles in the tense air.
Frank comes out to investigate, yelling at his “servants” to stay put. He pushes roughly past me as he kneels beside the howling Mikey, clutching him to his chest and murmuring comforting words into the top of Mikey’s hair, rocking rhythmically back and forth.
Who is this man, this torturer of souls who’s victims come back permanently scarred, if even at all?
Mikey, much to my surprise, calms almost instantly at this monsters touch. He wraps his arms around Frank, and leans closer to this madman's face, closer and closer until their lips are barely a centimetre apart...
AN Heh heh I’d thought I’d try my hand at the old cliffhanger.
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Oh and this is just a filler, It'll get much more interesting next chapter!