Viscious

Like Father, Like Son.

          I'm barely aware of what I'm doing, and even in my typical state of mind I am clueless on how to work a gun. I've never been great at this. But he has to die. I have to kill him. I fired the pistol haphazardly, unable to see well enough to focus. I scoot back as best I can to put distance between myself and the monster before me. Kellan clutches his chest in bewilderment, stunned by my behavior. I have to get distance. He is going to finish me off. He had only lied when he said he would treat me and take me from these woods. He always lies. He just threw me down a bank and tried to kill me. He killed that officer. Now, now he's going to get rid of me. My mind whirls with bits and pieces of threats he had made about killing me if police were involved, of killing my family and once friends.

          I shoot again, but one handed and with blurry vision I do not get the job done. My good arm is too shaky to aim. I become frustrated and I feel myself trying to cry. I squeeze out a few more rounds and Kellan retreats to my side. I groan out my anger and try to scoot to shelter. If I hurt before, it was nothing compared to now. Now, I can't even crawl on fours and my pain is quadrupled. I have to stop and dry heave, the thick saliva choking me to death and my breath is hard. I need to keep my defenses up, but I can't watch my back and heave at the same time.

        "Alina!" Kellan snarls in the distance. I know I have fucked up, but I want to die on my own terms if I must go. I don't want to be drug off somewhere I'll never be found or tossed down a bank like garbage again.

         "Go...away..." I force out in as threatening a tone as I can manage.

          I fumble with the pistol, but it's hard to stay both upright and holding the weapon. I'm down to one arm and one leg. Despite the sun having rose above, I'm freezing and shivering. Sweat still dots my forehead and brows. I yelp as a sharp pain catches me under my rib and moves me off the ground. I flop to my back and several bits of rock and limbs poke into my skin. The gun is lost from my hand and I hate myself for being to sickly and weak to even see or aim well enough to use the game changing weapon.

          "You little bitch! You almost shot me!" He kicks me again and I just lay lifeless. "Think you can fucking kill me?" I don't even look at him, I just listening for warnings and conserve what strength I might have left.

           "Answer me."

           "Why..."

            "Because I said to."

            "Your dad...I bet he...was just like you..." This has the desired effect, and he stops short and falls silent. "You...you said you want to be normal...you had the chance...why didn't you?"

             Talking is becoming more and more effort, but I focus on communicating with him as a forn of defense. Kellan is a sociopath. He's able to differentiate right and wrong, to function in a society, and to develop bonds with others. He loved his mother. He has a conscience that I've witnessed several times, and I need to...no. I have to appeal to that.

           "I never had a chance. You have no clue what I've been through, or what you are talking about."

          "You could've...come clean after his death...you'd likely been pardoned...but you killed...just like him...what would your mom think...to see you now?"

          "Do you want to die, Alina? Do you want to die that badly? I'll chop you to down to nothing. I'll hang your guts from the trees. You want to mention my father, he was a surgeon. I learned at an easy age how to take a man apart. I'll show you baby girl. I'll take more than just that nasty little foot." His voice is so sincere with his promise that I don't doubt his words for a moment.