There was a thunderstorm outside, cracking and bashing its head against the city.
Rain crashed against the brick wall of his beaten, empty house, falling harshly on his shattered windows. Distant thunder rumbled from the mountain. But its fury was dwindling down, spent along its journey to the sea.
Soon, it will be a cloudy morn.
Through it all, Ava lay motionless, dead to the world.
Her lips parted slightly, leaving a wet spot on the cover of his bed. Slender limbs with their manicured, thin fingers had splayed akimbo like a starfish, totally ungracious. Uncomfortable angles to her neck. Her once immaculate strands of pale blonde fell loose around her head.
An imitation of a messy halo.
Even the cover girl of a leading magazine couldn't always look perfect, it seemed.
But, sleep didn't come easy for Will. It never had. He tossed, he rolled, and he stared at the flickering candles perched on the wall near the head of his bed. The electricity bills had long since been overdue.
Hatred was a tangle of threads between his ribcage, sticky and molten hot that he refused to quench. It was a constant companion in his every inhalation and exhalation, a continued beating in his silent, rotten heart.
He wondered if Ava could sense it too earlier, the familiar hatred that ate him inside-out.
He paced out of his bedroom. He didn't need any candle, as the lighting outside flashed through the broken windows. Even without it, the dark, trash-scattered rooms are well mapped by the soles of his feet.
Five steps forward, he turned left. And then another five steps before he reached the stairs. Along the cold, steady stack of the floorboard, he dragged his fingers and revealed in the light sting as the tips grazed the unforgiving sharp nail on the wall.
A framed photo used to hang from it.
It was gone now. She was gone now.
Naomi was gone–
On the first floor, his empty house looked no better than yesterday. Or two weeks before.
Maybe some months ago.
The same old chunk of reddish bricks, sturdy even under the brutal grip of wild vines. The doors were already gone, and so were the previous colorful windows where little potted flowers were placed on the sills.
It left the place bare and opened to the gust of wind that carried dirt and the stench of an unjust world.
A mere six steps away from the basement door was a mirror. It was huge, cradled in wooden ornaments of flowers.
Naomi bought it from a garage sale, saying it would look good in their future home.
Through the smudged-looking glass, his reflection appeared even in the dark. He could see the hollow of his cheeks. The dark circles under his sunken eyes. The messy hair that framed his ashen face.
His cold, blue eyes were the only thing resembling life, even when there was nothing alive about him anymore.
Not since a long, long time ago.
He lingered
What would his despair look like if it could take shape? Or the hatred that preceded it?
What would he look like if Naomi was still here with him?
Lightning danced above the lazy clouds; seconds later, thunder followed in the distance. It was a blizzard of phantoms with him as their sole admirer.
Or so he thought.
His shoulder was on fire.
The pain manifested tenfold more than what the movie depicted it than the books described it. Cupping a hand to the searing agony, it became red. Wet and red.
His blood spilled out.
Someone shot a gun. Timed it too well with the thunder. Masking the ill intention.
The hair on his arms and the back of his neck bristled.
The thunder rolled again.
He saw his blood spraying out before he felt the pain hit his stomach. Blurred haze suddenly obscured his eyes. It didn't clear up.
The ground came to his ashen face, smacking the life out of him.
'I'm going to die here,' he thought, desperate to fight back and give up simultaneously.
A rustle without form sounded from behind. It took every last drop of his energy to turn. He looked up from where his fallen body lay and searched for his would-be murderer.
"Why don't you show yourself so I can spit blood on you?" Will smirked to no one.
Silence still.
His blood kept leaking. It would only be a matter of minutes before he died from blood loss.
"Really?" a bark of laughter came out of his mouth; it was unbelievable. "You want to hide now? Coward! I'll kill you for this!"
Another empty threat, as until now, he could not detect his shooter, moreover killing them. But, that didn't stop him from spewing yet another danger.
Then, a rustle sounded yet again. This time, a little closer to where he still laid unprotected. Will craned his neck and found the person with a gun pointed at him.
"There you are …"
The shooter's face was familiar. Disturbingly familiar. With those innocent wide eyes – though, there was nothing innocent about him – and curly dark hair. People might say he looked like an angel.
But the term 'Devil's incarnate' was more appropriate.
"Where is my girlfriend?!"
"Whoever that is!"
His assailant, a curly-haired young man about the same age as him, brought the gun closer to Will's temple, "Where is Ava?!"
Seeing the rage in his shooter's eyes, the bulging vein in his forehead and neck, the tremor that followed through the hand holding the gun – it brought a certain satisfaction to Will.
He dreamed of it.
Of this kind of reaction.
Of inflicting the same pain, the same suffering, he had felt since that night.
"Tell me where my girlfriend is or I'll pull the trigger!"
"Do you really think that I'd leave her alive after what you've done to me? To Naomi?!" He laughed in the face of death.
"What are you talking about?"
"You should see how Ava gasps for you. Calling your name over and over again as I draw blood on her body. Oh, she couldn't even utter a word when I started beating her to death. I'm not even sure you'd recognize her now!"
The shooter shoved the gun to his forehead. Dead center. "I'll give you two choices. Death or back to prison for the rest of your life?"
"Oh, I'm kidding!" Even through the pain, Will managed to wheeze in twisted amusement. "You'd think I'm as bad as you, who rammed your car right into my girlfriend!"
"How many times should I tell you that it was an accident?!"
"She was pinned beneath your car and you dragged her the entire block!"
"How was I supposed to know that?!"
"Everyone was shouting for you to stop!"
"Your stupid girlfriend would still be alive if she was on the sidewalk, not the driveway! It's her own fault!" The shooter spat at Will, "Besides, the police already ruled it as an accident!"
"Only because your father is the Minister of Law!"
"My father had nothing to do with it, that's just how it is! You can't go against the system!"
Will pulled every last bit of his energy and pushed himself up. With a little stagger, he charged at the shooter.
Seemingly unprepared, the shooter – also known as the Minister oF Law's son, Erik Fowler – stumbled back, almost falling on his ass.
Will took that mere second to his advantage. He lurched and snatched the gun from Erik's awkward hold. He shoved the other man back, pointing the gun, and shot right away.
Due to the two bullets embedded in his flesh and the flaring pain accompanying them, Will couldn't direct the gun as he desired. Instead of hitting his chest, the bullet zeroed in his stomach, similar to his own.
Erik deserved to suffer in pain for as long as he could and then more.
A quick death was too good for a vile human rejects like him.
Even so, instead of screaming at him or calling for help, Erik frantically turned his head left and right as if looking for something. He staggered towards the stairs, gasping, "Where's… Ava…"
Will wanted to laugh and sprout another one or two insults along the way. However, he could only wheeze as the pain flared, throbbing like crazy.
Even if he could, Will wouldn't tell Erik where his girlfriend was. If he really wants to find Ava, then he should look for her himself. Just like how Will ran after his car that dragged Naomi's body, painting the road red for a block.
Outside, the thunderstorm seemed to stop, no longer cracking and bashing its head against the city.
Rain no longer crashed against the brick wall of his beaten, empty house, no longer falling harshly on his shattered windows.
But a distant thunder still rumbled from the mountain. Its fury was strong as ever, even as it traveled along its journey to the sea.
On this cloudy morning, Will lay against the dusty floorboard; his blood colored it red. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold darkness finally claim his beaten body.
The last thing he heard was the roar of thunder, seemingly so far away that it couldn't swallow Erik's sorrowful scream as he finally found Ava's body lying motionless on his bed upstairs.
Shame that he couldn't even see Naomi for the last time while her murderer got to see his own girlfriend.
And this… was the end of–
Ding!
[Congratulations!]
[You have been chosen randomly to receive a 1 month's free trial of the System.]
[Welcome to the system!]
[Deep scan starts.]
The darkness dispersed.
Light gradually washed him, bringing forth the heat and the wind.
It blew against his cheek. Against his skin. The layer of bone-deep weariness no longer surrounding him.
They were gone.
He was free.
No.
He was falling.