Viscious 2: Cult of Kellan

Revelations.

      He did it. He really did it. What has he done? Is it over?

       My eyes sting, and my torso protest the large shoulder driving into it as we bob and weave along the forest. I refuse to make a whimper, instead trying use this opportunity to rest, however uncomfortable. Kellan's volatile kicks, setting in harder now that my adrenaline wans. Everything hurts. Everything hurts and I'm tired. Haven't I thought that a thousand times to myself in the past, well, however the Hell long its been. I don't care.

       I don't acknowledge my surroundings yet, or anybody in our group. I know already it is myself, Corey, the man beneath me, John, and Kellan. My mouth twitches. Even thinking of his name leaves a shitty taste in my mouth. Stupid, stupid bastard. Damn him. He did this. He doomed us both. And why, why this surprises me I have no idea.

        It's his thing, it's what he does. He destroys everything, and he came here with the intent to end me. He's incapable of even self preservation, as he just took himself down with me. It should make me laugh, the irony. He cut his nose off to spite his face. And now, well, now if we die we die together at least.

         That should feel like karma, sweet vengeance. Poetic justice like in stories or the movies, but it doesn't. Movies. For a moment Dallas's smiling face from the theater crosses my mind, and I feel twice as heavy. This isn't karma. This isn't even a smidgen of what this, or these monsters deserve. Dallas could die. He might even be dead. He'll never get justice this way. No, Sasha and Kelly will never get justice. All those who Kellan killed, even the Kellan who's identity was stolen, none of them get justice this way. Poor woods granny.

         An ember of anger flickers in the pit of my stomach, temporarily distracting from the irritating pressure of the shoulder. I have to count in my head and even my breaths to keep from trying to beat this man's back. I want to punch, flop, scream. I want to slide if his back limp, like a toddler in the grocery, and have a Kellan sized tantrum. I'm sick of being calculated and trying to control myself. It's too much stress, too many emotions, and I want to let them out. I stifle them instead. No way in Hell I could do anything but get myself offed if I give in now. All I have in this moment is myself. I'll just keep ot together a but longer, even if it's in vain.

        A sweaty palm occassionally runs itself across my side and hip, but I don't feed into it. Kellan loved gauging reactions. Trying to figure out what my weak spots were. I want this man to feel like his touch to me is powerless. I focus hard not to let so much as my heartbeat climb any higher than it is, a difficult task when I can feel the scalding wrath of Kellan's eyes cutting into me. If I didn't hate him before, I hate him now.

        Not long after I had somehow managed to drift off, I'm woken to cries and the suffocating scent of smoke. I huff out my nose and cough as thick gray wisp infect the air around us. Kellan coughs deeply, and I notice he has slumped greatly in his posture. He catches me looking, and tries to communicate with his eyes. I don't engage. I've nothing to convey to you, but contempt. A pleading look crosses his face, but my heart is stone. I won't be swayed by him. If I have any semblance of control, I will milk it. He can't make me do anything in this moment, and I vow to ignore him so hard he will doubt his own existence.

         "Damn it. The fire is getting worse." I feel the deep voice of the man vibrate my chest as he speaks.

         "It's gonna alert the pigs, man. Like, they are gonna send out choppers and shit or a fire squad." Corey blurts.