If He's As Bad As They Say, Guess I'm Cursed

Been dying for something real

Music: 13 Beaches🏔️, Lana Del Rey

"You... You remember." She said pointing the gun at him, her stance a little unsteady now.

He didn't try and fight her, he just looked guilty.

"I'm so sorry, I really rea.. Ah!"

Before he could finish, she kicked him over the head knocking him out cold.

Duncan/Lorelei's Pov

He woke up panicking feeling his limbs tied down to a chair.
He struggled a little, before realizing just how tight the binds were.

Observing his surroundings, he was surprised to find himself in the secluded log cabin he'd bought himself years ago in Triple Oak, Montana.

He was sat in the middle of the small living room.
The fireplace was lit, but it was almost burnt out.
He'd been left here for a little while, and he had a raging headache

It was hard to remember all the details of how he'd gotten here. He recounted them to himself.

He shot his target
Lorelei saw the body
she tried to kill him
he recalled what he'd done to her
and then she knocked him out.

The door swung open, the wind whistled fiercely.
A woman bundled up in winter gear came in, shutting and locking the door before looking at him.
Lorelei

He closed his eyes again, pretending to still be passed out.

He heard the sounds of her removing her boots and coat.
She took a few steps closer to him.

"Your breathing is laboured, and I can practically hear your heartbeat through your chest. Open your goddamn eyes." She said rather bluntly.

Great, Now he just looked stupid.

He opened his eyes, upon seeing her face he felt flooded by guilt once more.

All the memories of what he'd done hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"I... I'm sorry. I mean it honestly, I know you're planning to kill me. I won't try to stop you."
His words were genuine, she had to know he really meant what he was saying.

She glared at him a moment, like she was looking for signs of hesitation in his statement.

"You're right, you won't stop me. Nothing will."
She replied, sitting on the couch, whilst brandishing her knife.

Her words made his skin crawl, afraid of how this could end for him.

He hoped it would be an swift death. But seeing the look in her eyes, his chances looked slim.

"I understand."
He said, his head hanging low.

"First, I've got questions. Who called the hit?" She asked her expression emotionless, intimidatingly so.

"Vincent Wilson, he was a local Czechian drug mule at the time." Duncan answered, avoiding her eyes.

Since she'd lied to him about her last name, he didn't know that was in fact her father.

She sat in shock for a moment, processing what he'd just told her.

"Vincent Wilson", was a name that played a part in most of her worst memories.

His eyes, still followed her to this day.
Because in every mirror they reflected back at her.

"How much did he pay you?" She asked, keeping herself together.

"500,000 for your mother, and brother. He told me to kill you or your sister if you saw anything as well."
Saying that out loud it hit him just how terrible this must be for her to hear.

But he wouldn't dare deny her the truth.

She didn't show any signs of weakness. She just stood up and silently walked to the kitchen, opening her liquor cabinet. And pouring herself a glass of whiskey.

"So why didn't you kill me?"
She asked, her poker face unwavering.

He paused for a moment to really think about his answer.

"Seeing the horror on your face, I knew I'd done enough damage. I've got a lot of regrets, that night will always be my worst."
He looked up at her, she wouldn't look at him.

She just stood facing the kitchen counter with her whiskey.

She took a deep breath.

Turned around, she looked him dead in the eyes.

"I should've fucking died that night, I could've joined them. Stayed in that house with what good memories I had."
She couldn't help her anger rising in her tone of voice.

He was surprised, he really didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry... I am, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't."
Duncan hadn't cried for a long time, not in years. No bullet or burn brought him to tears.
But now, his voice was breaking. Tears threatened to fall, he couldn't contain how bad he felt about what he'd done.

I don't deserve to cry, not for what I've done.
Its f#cking selfish.
He forced himself to stop before she noticed.

"You were just a child. Your family didn't deserve it, but you'd barely gotten the chance to live. I couldn't take it from you." He said sadly.

Her eyes had lit up with pain and fury, She took a gulp of her whiskey, trying to remain composed. At this point nothing he tried to say mattered to her.

"And you think I'm f#cking living now? Everyday I wake up from another nightmare, but they hardly phase me anymore.
The disappointment of not dying in my sleep is what bothers me most.
Killing you was all I ever actually cared about, and watching you grovel and cry is fucking pathetic." She yelled at him.

Each word drenched in unbridled rage that she'd been holding in a long time.

Her words hurt like hell, but he wouldn't interrupt.
She clearly needed to yell, so he let her take it out on him.

And he knew he deserved it anyways.