Page 24 of The Reaper's Vice

Sulfur and gunpowder hang heavy in the air as I take deep, shuddering breaths. The gun is hot in my hand, shaking slightly from the adrenaline of ending four lives.

Floyd’s screams sound far in the distance as I walk toward him, a disgusted sneer on my face as I take in the man rolling around on the floor like a freshly hatched maggot.

I line up the tip of the gun at his crotch, firing once. A squeal of agony fills the air, and a malicious smile spreads across my face as I fire again. And again. And again.

Eventually, I run out of bullets. My face drops as I look down at the useless weapon in my palm, none of the rage inside me quelled. If anything, it’s grown stronger. More hateful.

“Pl-please don’t… kill… me,” Floyd wheezes, tears streaming from his eyes. His hands are stained with fresh blood as he clutches what used to be a cock, and I spit in disgust at the sight.

“Don’t worry. I’m doing the world a favor.” I step to his head, the barrel of the gun clenched tightly in my fist. Floyd looks up at me with helpless, tear-filled eyes—begging me for a shred of mercy. The same kind he never once extended to his victims.

With Arelia’s terrified face in my mind, I bring the butt of the gun down onto his skull. I strike him again and again. I hit him until his nose is concave until his brains flow like soup from his shattered skull.

And then I hit him some more.

Only when I hear Arelia softly weeping in the corner do I shake the fog of bloodlust. The red fades from my eyes, and I gaze down in utter numbness at the remains of Floyd Cox.

Good riddance.

Shaking from the adrenaline, I step over to where Arelia is hiding behind the desk, doing my best to wipe my bloodied hands before she sees me. But there’s just too much of it, and all I manage to do is ruin my T-shirt further.

“Arelia.” I hold out a hand for her to take. She peers up at me with big, trusting eyes, wrapping her fist around my index finger without a second thought. I pull her into my chest, breathing a sigh of relief when I realize she’s unharmed. Safe.

“How are you holding up, kid?” I brush her dark hair back from her eyes. She’s pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and roving, as if something will jump out of the shadows at any moment. I’m about to reassure her against this when they do.

Four more club members burst into the office, their weapons raised and faces full of rage as they take in the carnage.

“He murdered Floyd!” Someone at the back screams. “Kill him!”

It all happens so fast. One moment, I’m holding a perfectly healthy Arelia in my arms, and the next, I’m trying to stem the bleeding gushing from a massive hole in her sternum.

“No!” I scream, clutching her tiny face in my palms as her face pales. There’s so much blood leaving her tiny body, and I don’t know how to stop it.But God, would I do anything to stop it.

“Just hold on, Arelia!” I yell, holding pressure to the wound. But it’s useless—the blood slows its flow, but I know it’s not from anything I’m doing. She’sdying.

“Arelia, please.” I don’t even notice as four shots ring out, striking me in the back and legs. I crumple to the floor, cradling Arelia so her fragile body isn’t bruised by the fall. Yet even as I do it, I know it’s useless.

“It’s… okay.” She reaches up and places her tiny, bloodied hand on my cheek. It’s so warm and so, so cold. And as I look down at the girl too good for this world, my heart shatters.

“It’s okay.” She coughs. “You… you tried your best… to save me.”

Another shot rings out, and pain sears across my mind. But it’s nothing compared to the pain of watching Arelia die in my arms. Not even fucking close.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, rocking slightly as my mind breaks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I’m not sure what happens next—only that, when I come to, four more dead men surround me, and I’m clutching Arelia to my chest, rocking back and forth. The words echoing in my mind are the same ones falling from my lips in a loop, though they don’t change anything. Don’t erase this horrible ache in my chest, in my soul.

When the police finally show up two hours later, they find me in that same position. I’m still shaking, still clutching Arelia’s lifeless body to my chest. Still muttering the same phrase, over, and over, and over.

“I killed her… I killed her… I killed her…”

I blink, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes as the lake comes back into focus. I gaze up at the stars, at the vast nothingness—wishing there was a way to know Arelia’s soul was somewhere safe. That she was no longer hurting.

But I don’t know of any such place. And I know no such truth.

With a sigh, I get to my feet and shuffle toward the cabin, my heart as heavy as the steps I take. I pass out on top of the covers, not having the energy to take off the false uniform or even my shoes. And as I fall into nothingness, I pray for my first night of deep sleep in eight years.

But a pair of golden eyes follow me into the abyss.

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