A single pull of the trigger sent the young boy's arms flying into the sky. A tumultuous, earth-shattering shriek emitted from the pistol. A shriek of death and unforgivable sin. The round erupted from the barrel, piercing through both their heads simultaneously in a gory spectacle. It left behind a trail of black energy from whence it came and hissed when its strength dissipated. The gun's sudden surge of power dwindled as it reverted to being an everyday firearm. The room had become engulfed in darkness. The uncomfortable stillness that came afterwards felt dreadful. They collapsed upon the cold wood flooring that became a canvas smeared with their rich, red paint and salty tears.
All the boy could do was gaze at the mess he made. He ached to become blind so he could avoid glancing at the mistake. A spark was enough to ignite a roaring flame. His hands began to shake viciously. His ears were still ringing from the raucous noise. Regrettably, he had taken his hearing aids off while he was in his room.
Dropping the gun, he slowly crawled over to their lifeless bodies.
"Please get up..." he murmured to her. There was no reply. Their sulky blue eyes stared at the boy inanimately. His body began to move hastily; clawing the ground to the refrigerator only to fall and bash his head. Droplets of salty water raced down his cold, stale face. Their numbers multiplied rapidly. His immeasurable guilt that he had tried to avoid this whole time was overwhelming him. It was like a monster gorging at his chest, vigorously eating his inners to satiate its appetite. A hateful, wretched, burning sensation built up within him. His intense, crackly screams were inaudible to him now.
Why did he have to pick up his father's gun?
The pool of sorrow and despair that he began to drown himself in only got worse. He curled up into a ball, waiting for someone to save him. The sad truth was that no one would save him. There weren't many choices for him anymore. The authorities would arrive at his doorstep at any moment. Their thundering roar was far, yet to him, it was undoubtedly close. He grasped the duffel bag that had collapsed beside his mother and gripped the gun, shoving it into his pocket. The only thing that was certain in his time of crisis was procedure.
He wiped the tears off his face with his tear-soaked sleeve and did what he was instructed to do during an emergency and began in his father's office. He took his father's emergency credit card from the safe which had an estimated amount of 10,000 nexsos he could spend and the equipment that his father left behind. He also grabbed a few books that he enjoyed reading, but he soon realized his time was beginning to shorten as the signature sirens of justice played their obnoxious noise into the streets, creeping closer towards him.
He grabbed the nearest blue coat and slammed the door open. He bolted for his exit with streams of sweat pouring down his neck. He then came to an abrupt halt, nervously shuffling forward. He couldn't get himself to move any closer to the living room.
The living room had become a graveyard. His foot was able to step into its foul domain but his stomach began to churn, wanting to regurgitate his last meal in its entirety. It hadn't been very long yet the pungent smell leeched onto every surface in sight. A smell of drying blood, feces, and urine. Declaring the odour "mortifying" was putting it lightly.
He opened the nearby window and looked out at the buildings around him for the last time. They always glistened with a light cerulean glow that matched the moon's radiance. It bounced off the sidewalks and the reflective cars that came by. He could even see the massive tower ran by the mega-corporation Vertigal — one of the most famous landmarks in all of Edtweiser. It was somewhat pacifying. He had always wished to stare out into the beautiful night sky forever.
He looked back at the corpses for the last time. His tears had never stopped since the moment the trigger was pulled. It still hurt because his memories with his parents never left him. They were still as fresh as the days he lived them. It was funny to think that he wanted to forget so badly yet also wanted to never forget at the same time. Either way, he couldn't forget any of them as long as he lived. His heart was set on it. That was the promise he made to himself that day.
He solemnly walked towards his mother's corpse. The silver necklace that his mother had around her neck for what seemed to be his entire life, became his. The only memento of her that he could truly cherish. Internally, he never wanted to let go of her, but he had to. She told him to run. He climbed out the window onto the metal stairs below; placing his hood over his head. The last step of the plan was to escape.
The sounds of hard rubber rolling across the streets were growing in volume. It scratched his eardrums with their rachitic bumps. Cold beads of sweat poured down his neck. His heart had seemingly stopped with the sound. The reinforced metal doors slowly shifted open with a loud, rough footstep. The WARDENs had arrived. One had a fancy-looking cowboy hat with a mask on his face. It was coloured white, had black eyes, and a large black frown plastered onto it, resembling a classic tragedy mask from decades ago. It carried an odd-looking lasso in both hands; slightly tugging to stretch it out. The other had a generic black gas mask with many sharp teeth drawn near its mouth which looked quite similar to those of a shark. One row of teeth on the top and one on the bottom. The tips of the teeth were stained with red marker. It also carried a dark curved-tipped broadsword on its back. The way the sword rarely moved at all was nerve-racking. It must've weighed tons.
He had seen them patrolling the station all the time when he was a child. Due to the previous circumstances, they bestowed unimaginable kindness upon him since he was so young. They used to play pretend and take turns being heroes and villains. He was so naive; wanting to be a hero. They spoke to him as if he was a brother. They treated him with such warmth and affection... Unfortunately, they were much scarier while on the job. The aura that currently lurked around them was fierce and relentless with a distinct intent to kill. A lion out to hunt for its prey.
"YEAHHHHH!" the sword-carrying WARDEN yelled into the streets. "IT'S TIME TO KICK SOME PUNK ASS, EH EDISON?!"
A threatening fist came crashing onto its head.
"I told you to stop calling me Edison on the job. It's Lariat."
"FINE, WHATEVER 'LARIAT'!" it mockingly replied, quickly twisting its head away from its partner and strutting inside.
His feet were barely moving but it was enough to get up; quickly twisting and turning his body up the next flight of stairs. His short black hair flew to the side.
The metal's rickety noise reverberated in his head. The rusty, unpolished steel plates began to shake as his foot stomped from one to the next. The lack of maintenance had left the metal in a pitiful state. It didn't take long for someone to notice him attempting to flee via the noisiest escape route possible. Getting a glimpse of the escapee, the officer's lips quivered.
"S-Stop right there!" the officer yelled as he scrambled to take out his firearm. All sights were directed towards him. The boy pulled himself up and onto the stairs once more; continuing to climb higher as the bullets darted past. As soon as his foot struck the next metal stair, he let out a gasp as the bolts crumbled and cracked beneath him, sending the stair clashing against the rest of the stairway. Suddenly, the entire stairwell crumbled downwards in a cascade. He nimbly ran up the rest of the flight and barely grasped the rooftop with a nervous sigh.
He continued his journey, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, trying his best to avoid open spaces. What was scarier was how his legs let out grating cries reminiscent of the stairs themselves, but no longer was he crying. He could feel the excessive amount of blood that was coursing through his veins. A frigid yet wonderful feel of the nightly wind that splashed his face with such force. His whole body was screaming out in pain, though it was also crying with joy. Leaving all his pain and torment behind was more liberating than he could've ever imagined.
But his glee didn't last very long. His ankle twisted, bringing his overjoyed, heavenly state back to earth as he tumbled down onto the next rooftop. His elbow began to gush with blood, yet the sharp, intolerable pain rushing and pulsating through his foot was graver. He limped on his uninjured foot. It didn't take long for the WARDENs to catch up.
"THERE YOU ARE, BUCKO! YOU'RE NOT FAST ENOUGH TO OUTRUN ME 'CAUSE I'M LIGHT ON MY FEET!" A commanding voice resonated throughout the sky. "I'M GONNA ENJOY PUMMELING YOUR FACE INTO THE GROUND!"
Falling from the clouds, it dug its boots into the ground and its sword deeper into the thick stone; forcing itself to come to a flawless halt at the edge of the building. It jaggedly ripped the sword from the floor below and ground its metal edges in between its fingers. A sadistic laugh played on repeat. There was nowhere to run. He watched as her blade ran across the roof and pointed directly at him. Its eyes and sharp painted teeth glanced at his direction.
"WHAT?! NOT EVEN GONNA FIGHT?! YOU'RE MAKING THIS MUCH EASIER THAN IT SHOULD BE! IF YOU'RE GONNA BE LIKE THAT, JUST LET POOR OL' RAVY TAKE YOU IN! C'MON! IT'S A GOOD DEAL!" it blissfully demanded, dancing around like a broken ballerina toy from a music box. His hand jolted to his side, grasping the gun with coursing rage. His finger was trembling at the trigger. His aim was off. He couldn't calm himself.
"No..." he barely made his voice loud enough to be heard over the engines of moving cars down below.
"I'M SORRY?! WHAT WAS THAT?! I CAN'T STAND TO HEAR YOUR PATHETICNESS!" it continued to taunt him as if he was a toy. A toy that could be played with to its heart's content. His ear twitched. It felt like a nerve had been snapped in his neck. Aiming the pistol upward, the trigger was pulled again in a flurry of rage. It was similar to how it felt before. The devastating recoil. The mysterious dark beam of devastation. The demon's deathly call roaring over the area, enveloping it in its evil presence.
However, firing the gun felt different than how it did the first time. It somehow felt weaker. The black energy that once surged from the gun powerfully, began to dwindle and die in front of his eyes, leaving only smoke that slowly escaped the vents. The clouds had been completely cleared. All that was left was the beauty of the stars that contrasted the shady wrapping that covered the previously bright morning sky. To make matters more terrifying, the sword-wielding WARDEN had been brought to a halt. It had stopped dancing. Its sword was stagnant. Frozen in time.
"That isn't your weapon. Why do you have it?" it asked, void of emotion. Slowly taking steps back, the blade got closer to his chest. As he took another step, his foot had clashed with a metal bar as he plummeted to the ground with a shriek.
He landed on an aged mattress that was worn out beyond repair. His arm had taken most of the fall. It felt as if it was mangled from the inside. All he saw was a straight alleyway with only one way of escaping. It was a bit worrying that the WARDEN hadn't followed him, though he also felt thankful, laying to rest from all the chaos that ensued. He then let out a frightened cry when a large bug came crawling towards him. It didn't take him very long to start moving after his terrifying run-in with the insect.
The alleyways weren't any kinder to him. The dim, gloomy atmosphere disseminated throughout, leaving him sightless. Dread crept up his spine when his foot stepped into a rather gooey puddle. At least he ran far enough that the constant blaring noise became less annoying. However, he didn't believe for a second that he was close to being safe. Being in a dark alleyway alone was the exact opposite of "being safe." It was either the police got to him first or the possible thugs lurking in the gloom would tear him to shreds.
"Why..." he silently muttered under his breath.
All he could do was continue to run.
For the subsequent few hours, the young boy wandered alone throughout the system of murky passages. Every breath he took felt like tar and smoke rushing to his nostrils and clutching his lungs for dear life. He didn't know how far he ran or where he was. He stared down at his drenched feet and put a used rag he found in the bag around his previously bleeding elbow. The sound of laughter from the surrounding buildings hit his ears painfully. The constant yelling from strangers nearby and a few puzzling noises from the vehicle nearby made his head tremble and scream. His ears were bewildered, having to adapt to a tremendous amount of noise that they had to comprehend and convey to his brain. His feet became less coordinated, struggling to take the next step. Stumbling over the trash on the ground, he rushed to keep himself from tearing apart by plugging his ears, but the racket burrowed into his skull, playing its sick tune on loop. It was no use. He sank onto the filthy ground, contemplating what he did to deserve such a dreadful life.
His entire life was a tragedy. An unexplainable disaster. Each day, he sat at home; rarely able to go outside because of his abnormally sensitive hearing. All he could do was bury himself in a holographic screen and study hard while "enjoying" the digital world. Even when he was able to go outside, he was lonely. His father forced him to try harder and become a better man than he was, yet his expectations were limitless. He never even focused on what his son was doing since an emergency occurred every few seconds or he had to go on a "business trip". His mother was the only one who paid any attention to him, yet she similarly had to deal with his father's unbearable insolence; causing them to argue daily.
Barely having the strength to get up, he continued to slowly walk forward until the moment that his legs gave out. He never realized that his leg had been gradually bleeding ever since he fell from the rooftop. It didn't take long for his eyesight to get blurry and for him to lose consciousness.
With no warning, a tough metal rod had slapped his back.
His body had grown unusually accustomed to the pain; the rod was nothing more than an insignificant slap on the wrist. It may have been because of the injuries he sustained that were much worse than those caused by a blunt yet thin object. However, the boy was barely able to look up. The strenuous exercise regiment he'd just put himself through kept his body a stiff mess. Upon inspection, the mysterious object was a generic walking cane. The extraordinary thing holding it stared down from above, making his heart pound with absolute terror.
In his mind, it looked like a hooded monster from a fairy tale. It wore a special coat that wrapped strangely around his body with dark colours that tainted it. It would've seemed humorous to him if he wasn't so focused on the terror. The duskiness had cloaked the identity of the demon. The monster was moving towards him. Its hand was reaching for his face. He could hear its coarse breathing as the hand got closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until its hand had grasped his face entirely.
—^𝐯——^𝐯— 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 —^𝐯——^𝐯—