by Dee Garcia
For all the lives that will be lost at your expense.
I gasped again, not only because her premonition was unfolding so atrociously, but also because she’d truly been trying to help. She warned me this would happen, and I took it as her threatening to essentially overthrow me, to put me back the game. And maybe she had, maybe that’s something she was still working toward, but she’d genuinely offered some guidance.
And as I’d told Xander, I dismissed her.
How foolish of me.
All of this could’ve possibly been avoided had I just listened. But no, I’d been selfishly worrying about myself, about not reverting to old ways and disappointing Xander, scaring Xander. Now, I was going to have to carry this around with me forever; A horrific mass shooting at the hands of my family, all because they didn’t want Xander and I to be together.
How. Fucking. Pathetic.
Anger burst through my veins like sulfuric acid. I wasn’t afraid anymore, I was furious with both them and myself. Me, because this barbarity was my fault, and them because they hand stitched said barbarity on my conscience. I was furious they’d taken it to this level. Why was all this necessary? How was this even an option? We were not bad people and right now, they were tainting our family name, whether the world knew who we were or not. All these innocent lives lost for what? For money? Didn’t they understand love is love? That it just happens and there’s no stopping it.
“We have to get out of here.” Xander’s voice brought me back from my enraged thoughts.
“How? We’ll never outrun a semi-automatic,” I pointed out, scrunching my eyes through another wave of piercing pain lancing through my head.
“We have to try, Angel!”
His eyes met mine and while I could see a hint of worry and fear swirling within their depths, I also saw the same fire that burned through me. He was upset, galled, and I’m sure a part of him was blaming himself for this mess too, regardless of the fact it wasn’t his fault. It was all mine.
“Fine, we’ll head back to The Stables and go out the way we came in. If I drop to the floor, keeping running,” I told him, quickly checking our escape route.
“Are you insane? I’m not going to—”
“Xander, no ifs, ands, or buts! I drop, you run. If you stop, you’ll end up dead too!”
He thinned his lips, obviously not keen on the idea, but as another three bangs rattled us in place, he nodded. “That goes for you too then. I drop, you run.”
“Neither one of us are going down, but yes, okay,” I said in a rush.
“When are we going, Angel?”
Three…
“Angel?”
Two…
“Eden?”
One…
“Run!” I barked at Xander, death-gripping his hand as I pulled us from the safety of our spot behind the overturned stand and began our blind trek amongst all the terrified market-goers through the middle yard.
We were out in the open here, a terrifying thought, seeing as Alessio had great aim, but the Stables were up ahead, pushing me to run faster. Weaving in and out, around dozens upon dozens of people, their screams were never-ending, like a song stuck on repeat; only it grew louder every so often when another round of shots would go off. I didn’t know where the hell I was leading us after we trailed the length of Horse Tunnel, but I had no intention of stopping until all of this was far behind us.
So we ran.
And we ran.
And we ran.
Until the only sounds to be heard were that of our ragged breathing and thunderous steps pounding the pavement.
I can’t tell you how far Eden and I actually ran because we kept on in a full sprint for what felt like an eternity. Police sirens blared past us, obviously to aid in the massacre, while a helicopter flew overhead. Commercial buildings were nothing but a blur and eventually, we ended up treading through a quiet residential neighborhood, coming out on the other side to another commercial area. That’s when I pulled Eden into the alleyway between two factories and tucked us behind a dumpster. My lungs burned in excess, desperately seeking out heaps of air, as my heart slammed against my chest uncontrollably.
Time stood impossibly still as Eden and I sat there on the ground, her nestled between my legs and the old-fashioned brick wall, me shielding her in entirety, my back to the world around us. We didn’t speak, hell, we barely blinked, both of us clearly in shock at what’d taken place back in Camden Lock. My head was spinning out of control. I still couldn’t believe we’d been in the middle of a mass shooting, in the U.K. nonetheless, a country where this type of disaster was far from the norm. What I couldn’t figure out was if the entire atrocity was to frighten us, or if the Scarsis had actually been trying to kill us? I would think not given I’m the main person they’d want dead, but assuming Alessio was the shooter prompted me to think he wouldn’t mind killing his own flesh and blood right along with me.
I didn’t dare say it aloud, but all I could think was I knew it. The Scarsis weren’t stupid. They’re weren’t easily misled and most of the time, they were probably a hundred steps ahead. Throwing up another missing persons ad was only one part of their plan. They knew we’d try to make a run for it rather than hide out until they eventually found us. They knew we’d slip into new disguises; no, they were counting on it, and we gave them exactly what they wanted. In fact, we hand-delivered it right to their front door. I had no doubts they were closely watching us after that newscast went live and for all we know, they’d probably bugged our room and heard every last word exchanged over the last few days too.
So what were we supposed to do now? Our new looks were meant to buy us more time so we could get the hell out of here, but what was the use in running any further when they’d find us. They’d made their point loud and clear; this was the end right here, even if Eden refused to believe it.
Despite knowing what was soon to come, we kept huddled behind the dumpster until the sun began to set. A taxi took us back to the hotel and as we walked through the lobby in an exhausted daze, news of the tragedy was all anyone was talking about. Thirty people had lost their lives, thirty. Another twenty-something were injured, and the toll was expected to continue rising. The shooter had apparently disappeared into thin air, not a shred of evidence left behind, leaving authorities at a nerve-wracking standstill with the investigation. Knowing this was our fault had me ready to spew my guts out and slam my fist through the wall, all at the same. I had it in my right mind to open my mouth and fill these people in on their elusive gunman, but with my luck, they’d label me a rogue accomplice and throw me in prison with a death sentence.
Not that I wasn’t already awaiting one hellish death penalty, but you know what I mean.
Back in the chilled confines of our room, Eden and I were no more talkative than we were in the alley. We’d fallen on the bed like two sacks of potatoes, staring up at the ceiling for quite some time, an intense amount of tension rising between us. Our only form of communication was my hand reaching for hers. Fingers laced, we just lay there, no words exchanged. I opened my mouth several times but quickly found myself at a loss as to what I could say. There wasn’t anything I could possibly say that would alleviate what we were feeling.
But what was she feeling? I’d seen the initial fear in her eyes before it morphed into anger and determination. After that, it’s like some invisible mask had slipped in place and I couldn’t read a single thing emanating off her.
“My head is pounding,” Eden said unexpectedly, her soft voice bereft of any emotion. “I’m gonna shower.” Without a look spared my way, she slid off the bed and trudged to the bathroom, leaving me to own devices. To my racing thoughts.
I didn’t like it.
The silence ate at me, gnawed at me almost painfully. Why was she suddenly so distant? I couldn’t fathom why. My stomach contorted nervously at what could possibly be running through her mind, but it was the newfound sense of impending doom now crushing my chest, making it nearly impossib
le to breathe, that had me wondering what else could possibly go wrong…
In the event you were already jumping to conclusions, no, I wasn’t lying to Xander. My head really was pounding, significantly worse than when it’d begun back at the market. I’d felt some relief from its mind-numbing effects while we hid behind the dumpster, but as soon as we made it back to the hotel and I heard the number of people who’d lost their lives, it came rushing right back with a vengeance. You’d have thought someone was drilling a jackhammer into my temple by the way I squeezed my eyes shut. The pain was so excruciating, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom only made it worse. I was steadily growing dizzy and rather nauseous too, making it nearly impossible to stand up right in the shower.
Curling into a ball, I hugged my knees to my chest as the steaming hot water pelted my head. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until I choked around a mouthful of water and air. Why the fuck was I crying?
Because it’s time, Eden, my dark passenger whispered.
Immediately, I began shaking my head. Not now, please not now. We’d been through enough already for me to suddenly go off the rails. I wasn’t Alessio. I didn’t do this. I didn’t need to kill, dammit.
Why do you insist on believing you’re so different from Alessio? Of all your siblings, you two are the most alike.
“No, we’re not. Alessio is a sadistic bastard,” I hissed at her quietly, not wanting Xander to hear me fucking talking to myself like a crazy person.
Because your smiley faces aren’t sadistic, Eden?
“No, they’re a signature.”
A signature for what? What murderer leaves behind a trail? Even your brother isn’t that stupid.
“Torturing them is his signature,” I snapped.
A signature he then disposes of, she countered.
“In the shredder! I’m not Alessio! I don’t wanna do this anymore! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Because if I leave you alone, you’ll end up dead. Take what happened with your father, for example. I warn you; you ignore me.
“Because I thought you were just trying to screw with me!”
And look where that got you. Thirty people dead. Thirty innocent people, Eden. Now, you have to carry their deaths with you forever, and they weren’t even your kills.
There mere mention of all those innocent lives taken so mercilessly and unjustly spurred on a reel of images I wished I could forget. Images I wished I could change for the better. Thunderous gun shots, shrilling screams, horrified faces, the metallic stench of blood. So much blood. Everywhere I turned, there was so much fucking blood. I couldn't escape it.
I could escape her.
No, you can't, she hissed venomously, because I am the real you.
“No. No!” I yelled aloud, squeezing my eyes tightly.
She wasn't the real me, not anymore.
Wrong, she countered on a sneer. You know Alessio was right.
“If you think sparing Mr. Royce will forever subdue the darkness that lives within you, you're highly mistaken. You might think you can practice restraint, but over time, the need to shed blood will trump it all.”
I gasped as Alessio's words rung out in my head. Desperation instantly seized me, my chest rising and falling through panicky, labored breaths. I jammed my fingers into my ears, hoping to block her and everything else out, but my juvenile attempt threw her into a fit of maniacal laughter, her obsidian eyes shining in delight.
There's no escaping who you really are, Eden. You’ll need to kill eventually. Soon, really.
Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but I heard her loud and clear, the hushed sound flashing those unwanted images once more.
Shrilling screams.
Horrified faces.
Puddles of blood.
“Ahhh!” A garbled scream flew from my throat, my hands thrusting into my hair, fisting the strands at my scalp. “Leave me alone, just leave me the fuck alone!”
I couldn’t get out of the shower fast enough, slamming my hand down on the lever to cut the water off. I nearly tumbled onto the floor as I clawed my way out. Snatching my towel off the faux-marble counter, I dried myself in a hurry as Xander began frantically banging on the door.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” he yelled from the other side.
I need air. I need fucking air, I thought to myself.
Needed to clear my head. Needed to get rid of her. Needed to get the hell out of here. My inner-thoughts sent her into another fit of laugher. She didn’t speak, but her laugh kept going on and on in a maddening loop. What was happening to me? Why was she doing this? The constant back and forth between trying to help me and forcing my hand was driving me to the brink of insanity.
“Angel, open the door!” Xander demanded.
He sounded as manic as I felt. With my chest heaving, I pushed my way out of the bathroom with no regard for his presence on the other side. He went stumbling backward like a falling tree as I bolted straight for one of our bags and began flinging clothes behind me in a hasty search for something to wear.
“What’s the hell is going on?” he asked, but again I ignored him, throwing on a black, ribbed sweater and a pair of jeans. From the corner of my eye, I caught him inching toward me, prompting me to move faster. If he got his hands on me, he’d have the power to silence my thoughts. But it’d only be a temporary solution to this chaos, and the last thing I needed was another raging nightmare.
“Angel, answer me.” His demand came sternly as he inched toward me.
“I just…I need to get out of here,” I finally said, as I slipped on my boots, hobbling to the door with no further explanation.
I should’ve given him more, I know, at least enough to calm him and diffuse his worry. After all, he was only trying to help me, but I didn’t even know how to help myself at this point. Could I even be helped? Would he be able to understand? With my luck, explaining this mania in detail would lead him to the light of realization, the realization of what a monster I truly was, the realization that I belonged in the looney bin.
Run, Eden, my dark passenger hissed.
So I did. I ran right past Xander and out the door before he could stop me. I didn’t even bother with the elevators, racing down the three flights of stairs like The Flash. I bolted through the lobby too, knowing I’d left many curious minds wondering, as I burst out the front doors of the hotel into the night.
Sucking in a heap of fresh, cold air, I glanced down both sides of the road. I didn’t know where the hell to go, I just knew I needed to go somewhere. With no particular destination, I let my body lead the way. My legs carried me in a brisk run, block after block in the chilly, darkness of the commercial neighborhood. A few streetlamps sprinkled every few feet, along with the random lighting from different hotel rooms, was all the illumination London offered me in my blind, manic trek. It was eerily quiet too; so quiet that my ragged breathing almost sounded like someone was hovering just behind me. Every block or so, I’d peek over my shoulder expecting to see someone keeping stride, only to find myself completely alone, alone with my dark passenger, who was moments away from flipping the switch.
No, Goddammit, I mentally yelled at myself, shoving her down the rabbit hole with my proverbial hand. I will not succumb.
I wouldn’t. There was no need to, literally no fucking excuse for her to come out of her little box. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a psychopath; though, at the moment, I did rather feel like one. Why was she doing this? Why did she want me to kill? That part of my life, regardless of the fact it wasn’t very long ago, wasn’t something I enjoyed anymore. Getting through my list had become increasingly difficult after I met Xander and now, after spending months with him and only him, I knew it’d be impossible for me to take someone’s life.
Or so I thought…
An ear-piercing scream broke through the silence, literally screeching me to a halt. It was a woman’s scream, distressed and petrified. The sound staggered me through to my core. Spinning in a cir
cle, I glanced around my surroundings frantically, but it was so damn hard to see in the dark, I couldn’t make out a single thing except all the buildings and whatever the street lamps illuminated.
Another scream went off. Guttural this time.
It was close too, in an alleyway, given how it echoed. I snapped my head toward the sound and trailed toward it with quiet, cautious steps. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this were simply my mind—or her—playing games, but as I came up to the mouth of an alley and flattened myself against the brickwork, yet another scream ricocheted down my spine. On a deep breath, I peeked my head down its obscure length and at the very end, directly under a flickering yellow light, were two people clearly struggling against one another. Judging by the height of their shadows, it was obvious one was a man and one was a woman.
Go, Eden, my dark passenger hissed.
The part of me trying to fight her was infuriated she was right. I had to intervene. I was a witness, a witness with experience, and if I didn’t at least try to help the woman, what good was that experience? I could finally use what I knew for actual good, not simply family business good.
That was enough to get me moving.
Ducking low in the shadows, I trailed down the alley with steps far more quiet than before, their exchange going from barely audible to one-hundred percent raw, unfiltered clarity.
Hold your breath, it’s about to get ugly…
“You little cunt,” the man growled in a very generic Brit accent, thrusting her into the wall several times. “Did you not think I’d find out you were sleeping with that bloke?”
“I’m sorry!” she screamed, trying her hardest to fend him off.
The poor woman was desperate, knowing he’d soon knock the wind out of her and it would be game over.
But to no avail. Her resistance only fueled him to rough her up some more. He pinned her to the brickwork and slapped her so hard, I heard the strike from where I stood.
