The Memories of a Pale Man

Chapter One: The Abandonment of the Average

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“That should be the last of it.” I said, placing the last box in the backseat of my Soviet-Era Sudan and looking back at my Mother

“Really?” she asked, looking exasperated “But that’s just four boxes.”

“I know, Ma.” I said leaning back on my car. It had been three days since my high-school graduation and I was itching to get out of Virginia; Richmond in particular. All of that rush had made me pack lightly, and all I had to show for eighteen years of living was two boxes of clothing, one for personal items, and a final one for whatever didn’t fit in either category, but I still wanted to bring. And with so little I still managed to have no room in the car; a small hunk of steel in the shape of a toaster, which I had bought off of a friend’s parent’s cousin or other relation, a good price considering that it had hardly been driven and had an engine.

“Well, I still can’t believe my baby is moving away from me...” she said, hugging me and pinning my arms by my side.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too, Ma.” I said, lying through my teeth. “I have to get going or I won’t get to Charlottesville before night.”

“Alright,” she said, stepping back and looking at me, “Just go by your father’s house. He said he had a gift for you.” Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “I still can’t believe it. I can still remember when you were just a little baby, and I could hold you in my arms.” She mimed rocking a baby

I smiled, “Yeah, alright, I’ll just go to Dad’s now.” I turned around getting in my car and merely waved at my Mother for the last time.

“Will you come and visit?” she called.

“All the time.” I said leaning out the window, getting back in the car and saying to me and me alone, “You just need to be dead first.”

Continuing my drive towards the center of the city, I went over my life in Richmond; a regular life, parents splitting up, teenage depression. Average for a white kid, “Oh woe is me, for I have nobody and nothing,” typical stuff, I was glad that I had ever grown out of it. I know how lucky I am; I had a car, a job, a life to go to. Not everyone in Richmond could boast about having these.

I looked out the windshield. Though I wasn’t older than eighteen, the years I had been present on earth had been long and they showed. I was pale and scrawny with brownish-blond hair kept in a left part. I wore circular glasses that hid the circles under my eyes caused by long nights working at my job as a janitor at a local Comedy Club or staying up til dawn on schoolwork. My fashion was bland if not ordinary, consisting of worn slip-ons and slim pants, usually in company of these would be a white tee-shirt. The only thing about me that would be considered remotely odd would be my jacket, an old World War Two Army Ranger’s jacket with one addition: A white band on the left arm that had the word “Brony” in a cross pattern overlapping at the “O” in an attempt to look like a Medic. I had put a lot of work into making that arm band and it showed, you’d have to take a knife to it to get one of the letters even loose. I was a Brony and a damned fine one at that, I could name every pony from Twilight Sparkle down to Tucks and Tails, one of Mayor Mare’s aids.

Looking around at my surroundings I could see that I was now in one of the rougher parts of the city. I looked out the window seeing the usual sights; pimps, drug dealers, and vagabonds in this part of town. It didn’t really matter what time of day it was, they just did their dealings and the cops didn’t bother to arrest them. Some were even paid off by some of the better “Business Men” in the area to look the other way. It was sometimes a little hard to believe that my father lives in the area, but then again he was always short on money and nothing’s cheaper than an apartment in an area with a high crime rate.

Arriving out by my father’s apartment block, I set the car in park, locked it, and moved to go upstairs. Then I turned around and made sure that all of the windows were up and the doors were locked. Looking at the old place, my father had lived there a decade. I still wondered why; the apartments were small and were heated by a boiler all throughout the year. But still I came to his house every week, I had always liked my father, a giant of man that resembled John Travolta but just a little taller, never one to beat around the bush; he taught me “the birds and the bees” when I was nine, the whole shebang with diagrams and a whiteboard; looking back he could have pushed me into asexuality with that lecture. Still, he was the most lighthearted of my family when I said that I was moving north to Boston or New York, wherever my car broke down first, though I had said New York as a destination.

“I got you something, Jacob.” he said, turning around and holding out a dusty wooden box. “I think you’ll need it more than me if you get to New York.” he smiled. I took the box and opened it carefully; inside was an old Navy Issued Revolver. I took it out, seeing that it was old but well kept. “I got it when your Grandma's friend died, I never knew why.” he said, looking at the handgun.

“Did you get any bullets for it when you got it?” I asked, looking at him and placing the gun back in its box.

“Yeah, I think so.” he said, putting the box on the coffee table and turning around, only to turn back with a box of what looked to be .45 bullets. I took the box and pulled out one of the bullets before placing the box on the coffee table. Then, taking out the revolver again, I opened it and placed the bullet in the chamber, and after seeing it was the correct caliber, put the revolver away in its respective place.

I hugged my father. “Thanks Dad, this is by far the most useful gift I’ve gotten.”

“You’re welcome, I just hope you won’t need to use it where you’re going.” he said. Jokingly he added, “I’d give you a condom but I’m all out.” he laughed

I deadpanned, “Only you, Dad...” I said.

“Yeah, well, you better get going or you won’t get there or something like that.” Dad said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah,” I said, “I got a lot of ground to cover.” I took the boxes and moved to the door.

“Good luck, son.” Dad said after me as I left through the door.

Though I had told my parents that I needed to get out of town before nightfall, that wasn’t entirely true. Opening my car and getting inside, I place the boxes on the passenger side seat. I then pulled a small yellowing piece of paper from the breast pocket of my jacket.

“It’ll be good to see you again, Alejandro.” I said aloud. Looking at the sky I saw it was getting to the late hours of the day, but it was still too late for me to work on what was needed. I decided in my free time to go by the Paterson Express. I had known the owners pretty well and they had been more of a father figure than my own father in hard times for me. I would walk in everyday after school to get some food and advice from one of the two brothers.

“Hey, Man! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” Alex said as I walked through the door, a little jingle going off from the bell above the door.

“Hey, Alex.” I said, grabbing a root beer from the fridges that were lined up along the side of the shop. “So, how have you and Justin been in my absence?” I asked.

“Justin? His degree finally paid off.” Alex said gesturing wildly, as though people with a masters in mathematics getting a job was unheard of. “He went and got a job teaching at RCU.”

“Teaching what?” I asked, legitimately wondering about his success as I popped the cap on the soda.

“Algebra or something.” Alex said, shrugging and taking notice of the soda “You gonna pay for that?” he asked.

“Huh?” I paused, then looking at the bottle “Oh, yeah. Right...” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a five dollar bill. Alex took it and started to ring up my purchase when I said “I kind of hate to just show up and run, but…”

Alex cut me off. “No, if ya gotta go somewhere don’t let me keep you up.” he finished and gave me my change “Two thirty-seven.” he added.

“Thanks.” I said, leaving and pausing with the door open, a faint breeze blowing in. “See you later, then.” I said, waving

“You too.” Alex responded

I nodded, turned, and left.

Getting back in my car I looked at the sky and saw that it was darker, still some time so I drove to a nearby alleyway and popped the trunk. Looking at a box that had already been there, I grabbed it and opened it to take inventory. I pulled back the flaps and pulled out the items one at a time. A lawn mower blade that had been wrapped in rope on one end and sharpened to make a makeshift machete, a length heavy metal pipe, and short shovel that had been sharpened as well. “I hope none of these break.” I sighed looking at the macabre assortment of weapons. Glancing back at the sky I saw it was finally time.

Adjusting my mirror and backing up into the street I was met with a few yells of disapproval, but they fell on deaf ears as I sped off in my Sudan. As I drove I kept a close eye on the streets, I had been keeping tabs on many of my… well my, targets, in the time leading up to my departure from my “home”. I was lucky that Alejandro had moved out of his mother’s house and into a flat near the Shako Slip, a row of dirty bars leading down to the James River. Pulling up not a block away from his apartment I pulled into a parking lot and moved to the back, I popped the trunk and pulled a black pinstripe vest, a pair of black dress pants and belt, a white arrow collar shirt, a black silk cravat, and finally a pair of wing tipped shoes. Changing into them and rolling up the cuffs of the shirt I placed a white canvas apron over the entire ensemble. Looking at it all and brushing a speck of dirt off of the leg of my pants, even as a child I had planned on this very night it had taken me forever to finally stop caring about getting caught, but if one thing stuck it was how I would look while committing my deeds, cleansing the earth of the filth that I deemed unworthy. Glancing at a sterling silver pocket watch I had purchased from and antique shop a week ago I saw it was just around nine thirty. Perfect, I thought grabbing the makeshift machete, which was definitely my favorite out of the bunch, and headed down to the third building on my left. Looking up at the fire escape and shaking my head, it always had to be something; I placed the weapon on the ground and got a garbage can positioning it just right and getting on top. Reaching for the long neglected steel ladder, I missed once, twice, three times and hit grabbing it and swinging in the air for a moment before jerking my body to bring the ladder down. After a bit of noise I had it to a point where I could grab my weapon and bring it with me, checking my watch again before I started I saw it was almost ten. Closing it I started up the ladders.

Arriving at the top I was happy to see that Alejandro wasn’t home yet and that he left his windows unlocked. Pushing with all my might I was able to open it enough to crawl in (about a foot) looking around I went to the fridge in the small and dirty kitchen, opening it and looking about inside of it I saw a Sanpellegrino, a fine orange soda made in Italy, sitting alone next to some grapes of questionable freshness. I pulled it out and placing my blade on the counter I opened it and took a sip. Thinking on what lead up to this man’s imminent demise, Alejandro Ramirez was decent when I met him, kind of a saint in my time of need, I shared secrets with him and we had a decent friendship. We stayed good friends up until high school, when he called me an ass and insulted my honor. Yep, he knew too much and insulted me, so the punishment in my own little world was death, nice and short, black and white, I liked it that way.

I sat around for a short while longer until I heard the tell tale sound of a key being fumbled at the lock. Taking the blade from the counter and moving to the bedroom, he opened the door and walked in, from the look of him you wouldn’t think he was Cuban, tall and skinny, with a curly brown afro that looked closer to a wig than his actual hair, the only Cuban thing about him was his tan skin, which he kept in good condition, he wore some khaki shorts and an old “Pink Floyd” tee, worn around the edges. His brown eyes flashed with annoyance as he grumbled about work being hard on his back “maybe he had gotten a job down near the docks” I thought to myself. He started to unload the groceries from the bags into the pantry. I took the chance and stood up and held the blade behind my back as I walked across the room as though I had seen him every day and not just three years past. He looked up hearing me approach

“Wha? Jacob?” he asked looking surprised “What are you doing here?”

I walked on unphased; I was halfway across the room as I raised the blade from behind my back letting it glint in the dim light cast from his ceiling lamp

“What are you doing with that?” he said unsettled, backing away “Jacob?”

I kept advancing, the 1812 Overture playing in my head as I covered the final distance to him, grinning all the more

“Get back, Jacob” Alejandro said raising a can of beans to defend him “Get back!”

Took one more step, the crescendo of instruments in my head hit the climax, I silently lunged towards him aiming to slam the sharp side of the blade into his temple, I missed blood spurting from the wound on his chin, he clung to it and screamed in pain, I frowned raising the blade and hitting over the head, he continued to yell in pain and beg for life, I hit again and again until he fell to his knees and then finally he fell face down, blood dripping from my blade, covering his floor, bits of his skull lying on the floor next to his head, I smiled and looked around, blood stained nearly every surface covering the walls and floor, I paused to look at myself. My hands and apron were stained along with some of my face and the bottoms of my shoes. It was going to be hell to clean, then I remembered the thing that was useful about murder, I went through his pockets, I pulled out his wallet and took the cash, I also found a gold ring with some Celtic runes and symbols carved into it around his ring finger. Standing up I looked at his groceries, they were the usual foodstuffs one would see in a small apartment such as the one I was in; ramen, sardines, milk. I looked through the bags and grabbed them, I then paused and tossed the milk on the floor letting it spill onto the body and floor.

Leaving by the front door I headed downstairs before his neighbor could come out. I scurried down the steps and left through the front door coming closer towards my car I thought on who was next, on a map I would be closest to Nick’s house. Nick Winooski was close to the same deal with Alejandro, save his being an outright bastard that didn’t give much to public relations. I knew him in middle school, he and I ran a small ring of businesses in the school. Namely he and I had a monopoly on the gambling rackets, he got the resources and I rigged and advertised the business. After a year or so working with him I went and told him a little about myself, which, in turn, he used to formulate lies, rumors, and foolish stories that followed me for years later. Effectively destroying the six locations we had and the fifteen people on the payroll. I had gotten around five hundred dollars from the whole endeavor, but it was nothing compared to the potential funds I could have made. Arriving at the car I tossed the blade and the bags of food into the trunk. Shutting the trunk I looked at the sky, it was nice

“Luna you did a good job tonight” I said to the sky

I got into the car and got comfortable, driving out of the parking lot and onto the street, flipping on the radio to 88.9 or NPR, they were playing their usual, classical and I listened to it for the twenty minutes it took to get to Nick’s house. A small three story brick building, his flat should be number three, which should be on the first floor. Stepping out of the car and looking at my watch I saw it was eleven twenty three, I was late. I hated being late I went to the trunk and opened it, pulling out the pipe. Looking at a passerby that was giving me a look I smiled, which was a loose term as it looked as though I was going to kill him, he quickly hurried out of the area as I moved to the building. I was going to have to make Nick’s death quick, quicker than Alejandro’s.

I knocked on the door and sang a little verse from a song I remembered as I waited, after a few moments I heard a sound of a dead bolt being unlocked. Stepping far enough to the side of the door not to be seen from inside I waited as the door opened and a “Hello?” was heard as I readied my arm. Nick went a little farther into the hallway sticking his head into view. He was of Russian descent, he had a crop of black hair that was kept in a ponytail. His eyes, seemingly kind in nature,were simultaneously unnerving. One could go so far as to say they that he was bug eyed, and their dull grey blue color went directly against any earlier sentiment. He had grown a goatee in the years since I last saw him and it waved slightly in the faint breeze of the open doors.

“Who left those open?” he said to himself looking away from me and walking to the door, he was about the same height as before but he was an awful bit fatter now; the red slippers and polyester robe didn’t help to cover that up. He shut the door and turned around looking momentarily confused as I took aim and swung downward onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Looking at his bloated figure I sighed, grabbed his arms and dragged him inside, getting stuck on the frame for a moment before I finally got him back inside and shut the door.

Nicks flat was much nicer than Alejandro’s, with carpeting, a flat screen TV, and leather furniture. It was a pity no one would appreciate it beyond this night. I locked the door and turned to Nick, going  through his pockets. Finding a few bills, I counted them, then moved on. Seeing what was around his neck, I grabbed a silver pendant with a picture of the sun and moon on it. I put the stuff away in my own pockets and looked down just as he started moving about.

“Guh” he coughed “Wha-what hit me?” He paused looking up at me “Jacob?”

I looked at him and smiled, causing him to relax. Leaning down, I grabbed the pipe swung it upwards into his chin, resulting in a satisfying crunch that put his hand to his mouth as it started to drip blood. He looked at me confused. I was forced to swing down as he scrambled to get up, hearing another crunching sound, and it appeared that the cement I had painstakingly poured into the end of the pipe was paying off. He slumped back down onto the carpet. I hit again and again, hearing a final crunch as his head broke, smashing open not to unlike a watermelon. I jerked back in surprised getting some of his brain onto my pants. As I looked at the crumbling face of another enemy, I remembered reading somewhere that brains were seen as a delicacy. Pausing, I stuck my finger into the mess of bloody grey matter and popped it into my mouth, spitting it out a moment later. My verdict: metallic, not worth the trouble of getting, I went back to smashing a window and leaving through there, falling onto a couple of cardboard boxes in the process. Rolling over and groaning, it took me a moment to finally I stand and brush myself off; and headed back to the car.

Driving along to my mother’s house I thought about just how much I hated the portly woman that birthed me. She was short and had blond hair worn in a long fashion. She should be asleep at this time but if not I would smash her head in with the bloody pipe still residing in my trunk.

Arriving at the house I opened it with my key.My father, a drunken pole, was long dead from liver failure, and I hated my mother. One may think that I loved her, but she used me and even openly admitted that I was the accident.  She used me as the labor; I was the janitor/electrician/plumber/cook of the family. What, a frayed wire? Don’t call a professional, that Jacob’s job. Even after I got a job, they took the my money for themselves; that is my mother and her sadistic boyfriend. The two of them made an account for my paychecks and didn’t put my name on it, barring me from withdrawal. The last straw, however, was when my mother had a child with that slug of a man. I remember reading somewhere that being burned alive was the worst way to die, the last of your moments filed with the pain of your skin burning off. I found that quite suitable.

I opened the front door as quietly as I could, I ran to the car and took the gas can from my trunk and walked back inside. I started with the stairs, then moved onto the kitchen area, eventually moving through the house and to the front door, all the while making sure not to get any on myself. I finally poured the last of the gasoline onto the floor leading up to the doorway, I walked out and lit a match; I always kept some on me, being a firebug helped me out in some ways. I smiled when I remembered my mother taking one of my favorite toys as a child, when I asked her she said it was because it promoted violence. I wondered if she did the opposite when she said that. I tried to light the match, I tried again. After three more matches I tossed the lit match into the room and shut the front door. I walked a little further getting to the car and watched as the fire spread up to the top floor.  I got in and drove out to a small pizzeria not too far from the house waiting for Lloyd, my mother’s boyfriend, to drive up.

As I waited I thought on my family, I had two sisters one was with my father, I had made sure that, she was okay and was nice enough for a teenager, so I let her and my father live. I looked out at the shop, broken from my daydreams seeing that the car I was waiting for was here. The man who had brought nothing but agony into my life went inside, grabbed a few pizzas, and left for his next delivery; he was Asian with a scruffy black beard and hair, he always had a calm demeanor, the thing that he wouldn’t leave the house without was a Miami Dolphins hat and matching jacket. I followed him to his delivery, another shady area of town with no streetlights, as he came back to his car I went up to him with the bloody pipe.

“Jacob?” he said looking at me

Without a word I smashed the pipe into his shin braking it or just causing some pain he dropped I grabbed his hair and dragged him into the street

“Why did you-” That was all he got out before he was smashed in the mouth, followed by both his arms and legs until each was broken.

“Guess what Lloyd?” I said leaning down “Today you get to feel eight years of pain all at once and then die. How’s that sound?” I took out the knife and plunged it into his shoulder “Oh, I think you should know first, you daughter and girlfriend? Their dead now, burned alive”

“Ju basgard” he said spitting out blood.

Before he could say anything else I smashed him in the chest with the pipe, pulling the knife from his arm I cut two horizontal lines followed by a vertical one, then I pulled them back seeing that they were indeed broken, I looked at his face, I looked back at his chest I didn’t care if he was dead or not right now, I ripped out his organs and flesh with wild abandon, tearing bone, flesh, and skin from his torso until there was nothing left but a few bones and organs. Finally I came to what I was after the whole time, by this point I expected that he was long since dead and thanks to the lack of lights no one had seen my act or called the authorities yet. I glared at his heart with hunger. I reached in and ripped it from his chest and bit into it, chewing for a few seconds before spitting the disgusting piece of flesh onto his face. As I stood up I saw his eyes and opted for my own hands for this operation, I grabbed his left eye and working my fingers around the orb I pulled it out, little by little, as I pulled the eye farther out I felt the unmistakable feeling of the it squish in my palm. Not worth it, I let go of it wiping my hands on my apron. I grabbed the pipe and looked back at the body. I felt the anger well up inside of me and I smashed the body hitting it again and again until the body was nothing more than a red mess I walked back to the trunk tossing the pipe in with the rest.

I looked at my watch, a little past two, just one more and off to life. Getting in the car I tried to start it, and it stalled, I tried again and it started up, I needed to get to a bar in the shako area, I had asked a friend to meet me there around midnight. I remembered the conversation being pretty hard, he kept asking why he had to meet me “Cause my parents are going to keep me late man” I kept saying, it took forever but I managed it. Ryan, nice guy, I didn’t want to kill him but it was necessary, I hate having baggage and I had decided a month prior that anyone that knew anything about my life from the age of 13-16 was to die. It was the easiest way I could move on from that horrible time, while most kids did drugs or yell at their parents, I indulged in some kleptomania and if anything I want to remove any trace of that incident from the world.

I drove around getting lost for a short time until I finally arrived at the backwater bar I had made the destination, Ryan was already there waiting on the hood of a nice car. I drove up and stepped out, feeling the tremors in the ground from his sound system. I saw Ryan still had the well maintained hair that he always did, spiked up in it’s usual style and complemented by the Nikey glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. He wore blue jeans and a t-shirt with a design I couldn't quite make out. Standing at six feet tall, he was a giant in comparison to me. I could only hope to surprise him.

“Hey Ryan.” I said waving trying to stay out of the direct light.

“Hey Jacob, care to tell me why you wanted me here?” Ryan said a little more than peeved from his long trip “It took me

six hours to get here, so it better be urgent.”

“Just wanted to see you again” I said trying to sound friendly “Why don’t you come over here” I said moving to the trunk of the car

“Oy bitch, I came all this way. Least you could do it come to me.” He joked like usual.

“JUST COME OVER HERE!” I screamed losing my composure and slamming my fist onto the car, creating a loud metallic sound

Ryan jerked back “What the hell’s wrong with you Jacob? Your acting fucking weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Just. Come. Over. Here” I said opening the trunk and grabbing the shovel

“Alright. Hold onto your tampon.” Ryan said edging forward a little

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS” I screamed snapping and running forward

Ryan, surprised, swung blindly, clocking me in the side of my face knocking me aside. Taking this chance he grabbed the knife and pointed it at me “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“No time to think. I think, I’ll regret and stop. No thinking, just do it.” I babbled standing and stumbling forward.

“You finally snap?” Ryan asked lifting the shovel with a confused expression “What’d I do to you, man? I’m your damn friend! We went to Bronycon together, remember?”

“No stopping. Think later. Death, death is the only solution” I continued still stumbling forward

“Watch yourself or I’ll put you down like a damn dog!” Ryan said swinging the knife from side to side

My head snapped up “Do ya really think yawl be swingin’ that there stick, lass?” I said in a slight Irish accent “Or will you just threaten me with it?” I finished

“My God, he’s lost it.” Ryan said lowering the knife a little confused on the response.

“DIE!” I yelled covering the final distance of about five feet before jumping and swinging my fists wildly, clocking Ryan on his arm and cheek. He responded by slashing at me with the knife putting a gash in my side. I put my hand to my side and came back with blood. Ryan kicked me in the stomach, tossing me back a good two yards. He was much bigger than me and therefor had a huge advantage, he came closer. I scooted back, trying to maintain a safe distance.

“You’ve fucked up now.” Ryan said gritting his teeth. I kept scooting back until I hit the side of my car. I looked to the

side and saw I had left the door open. I went through the clutter that was my mind and came back with one thing; the revolver. I scrambled for the car door. “Oh, no you don’t.” Ryan said grabbing my leg and dragging me away. I kicked his hand making him let go long enough for me to stand, run for the door, and lunge inside to grab the box that housed the gun. I pulled it out as Ryan grabbed me again. Turning around, I vaguely aimed at his head and hoping that there was a bullet under the hammer.

“Here come the spoons, bitch.” I said pulling the trigger and hearing nothing.

I pulled the trigger again and still nothing.

“Dumbass.” Ryan said with a smirk.

Ryan kicked my hand with his boot, smashing my fingers and making me drop the gun. I scrambled in the direction reaching out for it in one final attempt. The black boot came down onto my wrist, crushing it, but not breaking it. Ryan reached down and grabbed the pistol I was so desperately reaching for, pointing it at my head from above. “You have to cock the hammer, moron” he said aiming at me and a click was heard “You have to plan your murders out more carefully.”

“No you can’t do this.” I said in a voice just above a whisper

“Frankly, you aren't in a position to argue.” Ryan said with a bit of anger behind his words.

“Money; I’ll give you money. Just let me go.” I pulled the bills from my pocket “Just don’t kill me.”

Ryan lifted his foot a little in hesitation, always being the one to get some cash in any way possible that wasn’t stealing. I took the chance and pulled my arm from under his boot, running forward out of fear and hope, hope to live another day, to see another sunrise...

As the last though went through my head I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot going off behind me, then I felt a pressure on my back, I looked down seeing a hole in my chest. I walked a few more feet dropping to my knees. I tried to speak only to cough up some blood, the red staining the white of my apron, mixing with the blood of my friends and family, Alejandro, Nick, Loyd they were all dead because of my past hate. I coughed again the red was on the ground now. If I could have spoken I would have said something like “Odd that enlightenment comes when you least need it” but I didn’t, I only looked at the hole in me and fall. As I fell forward I realized that these thoughts were to be my last and they meant nothing.

“Game over, traitor.” I heard Ryan cursed me as my eyes stared blankly into the gravel. I felt the tremors of his footsteps as he walked over and kneeled next to me “Say hello to the devil for me.”

As he said these words I noticed that it sounded like I had cotton shoved in my ears, tried to ask Ryan to pull it out but only managed to close my eyes. I was so tired, I decided it would be best to just rest there for a while.

Once I closed my eyes the black faded to white

And then... Nothing