by Jacob Rayne
The image of his dead friends still fresh in his mind, he stepped from the bus, looked up to the heavens and asked God why this had happened.
He was leaning against the bus, head in hands, when he heard footsteps from behind him.
He looked up and saw Petra.
Her eyes were also bleeding tears.
‘They’re all dead,’ Eddie said, shaking his head.
His body trembled with the force of his sobs.
She began to cry too.
He shook his head again. ‘This Berserker psycho has got to them. It’s all my fault.’
She offered the support he so dearly needed; extending her arms and holding him as he cried.
‘It’s ok, Eddie. It’s not your fault,’ she said, stroking his hair with a trembling hand.
The force of his sobs shook both of them.
She pulled him in tighter, then he felt an intense pain in his belly, an ice cold fist that tore the breath from him.
The unexpected nature of the blow made it even worse.
He moved back, his hands clasped to the knife which still protruded from his stomach, hot blood pouring from around the blade and soaking into his jeans.
He looked up, his eyes bulging from his skull, surprise and pain and recognition all forming one intense emotion.
‘It was you? Why?’ he asked, blood pouring from his lips with every pained syllable.
‘Don’t you think it’s worth it to get your music the recognition it deserves?’
He furrowed his brow, sobbed with the pain that lanced right through him.
‘Every band gets bigger after they lose a member,’ she continued, a benign smile on her lips. ‘This way, the whole world will be listening to your new record.’
Eddie was speechless.
‘It’ll only hurt for a while, then you’ll be immortal, isn’t that what you always wanted?’
He was so stunned he couldn’t raise his hands to defend against the next knife attack.
He fell onto his back, blood pouring from his riven abdomen. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he realised that this was what dying felt like.
He looked up into Petra’s face. Saw that she was sobbing too.
‘Ready to take your place in history, Eddie?’ she smiled, hugging him in close and sinking the knife into him a final time.
She kissed his forehead then turned away, leaving him in a growing pool of blood.
In spite of the pain that tore through him, a smile crept across his lips at the thought of his name being uttered among those of his heroes.
About Jacob
Repeated viewings of The Shining as a child have left Jacob with a love of the dark and the disturbing that really comes to life in his writing.
He works to a soundtrack of blisteringly heavy music, and, like his beloved metal, his writing is brutal, uncompromising and intense.
You can find Jacob on Facebook (Jacob Rayne)
Twitter (@jacob_rayne)
Website: www.jacobrayne.wordpress.com
E-mail [email protected]
And sign up for monthly (ish!) newsletter at http://eepurl.com/bciffz
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