Final Call for Mercy

49

It was like a faraway car horn that just didn't stop going off. Like a car accident in a highway during a bad traffic jam. And the horns were blasting and people were screaming at each other and I sat there, inside my car, with the windows all up and simply experiencing it without moving a single finger.

Except this was no accident and there were no car horns. Just this nonstop ringing in my ears that made me want to rip my eardrums right out. Maybe even stomp on them too.

There was screaming. A whole lot. The surviving leaders—we counted three dead. Forgot the countries, couldn't actually bother to remember, yada yada. Anyway, the surviving leaders shouted at each other, at me, at Nicolas and Veronica and Elijah, who stayed a few feet away, prepared to protect. 

Nicolas left a moment ago, I have no idea when. He didn't move from Red Point, the guards told me that much. Veronica stayed close to where I was, trying her damnest not to cry and keep it together. She was failing miserably, but I couldn't hold it against her. Somehow, by some miracle, I was holding it together, but barely.

But they kept shouting and shouting and I knew my half-assed composure would soon wear out.

They shouted at my dad when he came, demanding answers, demanding a plan or a solution or a promise to be kept safe. As far as they knew, me and my people knew every step the Nine Circles of Hell took. But my dad only blew them off and watched me with worry from a corner of the room, his eyes red around the rims with tears shed a long time ago.

They all stared at me. In between screams and with accusing eyes, they all bore their fiery gazes at me like I was the fucking messiah. I did promote myself as much. Reap what you sow and all that sappy, told-you-so bullshit.

But I didn't care about the consequences of my goddamned actions when their voices rang in my ears like shrieks. I wanted to yank my hair, wanted to scream back, wanted to taste blood.

Instead, I spoke. Soft, but strong enough to turn heads and silence those who were already watching. "Quiet."

The noise in the room dwindled, but didn't cease completely. I gave it a moment, using that time to rein in the building bubble of rage in my chest. They didn't stop.

"Quiet," I repeated with more force and volume.

More heads turned to me. I hadn't spoken since I got here an hour ago. Not a word. The noise level lowered once again, but it didn't stop. I just wanted it to fucking stop.

"Quiet!" I barked, not loud enough to scream but to slice conversations with the sound of my voice and make every head turn my way and every mouth close instantly.

THREE HOURS AGO

Useless. Like a goddamned fucking weak piece of shit, you are useless. 

As if I didn't know.

But I stayed in my spot, because attempting anything else was going to drive me up the wall. Or to empty my chamber in some poor bastards head. So I stayed still and waited for those who weren't as pathetic as me.

The villa was silent. After cleaning everything, after ordering people to find him, after losing my fucking mind and then getting myself together, I came home. We all did. And now I'm sitting in this couch, like a sack of shit, doing nothing.

So many had died. Piles of bodies were recovered. I felt the ice in my body begin to melt with every new body brought to the front of Red Point. And when I saw my guards, it took all of me to not do something rash. They were all dead. Every guard stationed outside to protect the premises had been shot and killed. 23 perimeter guards dead. 118 people dead in total. 1 missing.