Too Far Gone (Urban)

40.5| The Siege

Chenelle and Rascal sprinted down the steps of the building, jumping over dead bodies and shoving any obstacles out of their way. Chenelle remembered every door, every step they took on their way up, so she easily found the path back out of the building. Outside, the commotion had died down, and the Saints had begun to regroup. It was a long stretch between the building and the main road -- they had to keep running. Rascal gradually seemed to slow down as they neared the main road, until eventually, he stopped completely and collapsed.

     Chenelle immediately stopped short, turning around to inspect Rascal. He laid face down on the gravel, his back rising and falling irregularly as he breathed in and out. "Rascal, come on," she demanded, pulling on his shoulder slightly.

     "I-I can't," he let out, heaving a cough. Red spurts of blood flew from his mouth, staining the light cement. Chenelle kneeled down at his side, every inch of her face showing her concern.

     "Rascal, what's wrong?"

Instead of speaking, Rascal rolled over onto his back, showing off the fresh set of bullet wounds decorating the left of his torso. Her eyes widened. "There's no way out of this one, Nelle. This is it."

     "Rascal, no, I--"

     "When you get to the airport," he paused to cough some more, his teeth reddened with crimson, "I want you to tell Pierce and Trinity I'm so sorry..." he paused to swallow, "And you, Nelle, I'm sorry I got you into this mess -- everything here is my fault."

     "S-Shut the hell up!" she stuttered, feeling the waterworks beginning to process. Rascal smiled weakly at her. In the distance, a red truck had begun speeding towards them with no signs of slowing down or avoiding them. Chenelle grabbed Rascal by the arm, attempting to pull him up, but he was too heavy for her. "Get up!"

     Rascal rose slowly, propping himself up on all fours before stopping on his knees. He peered over his shoulder, seeing the truck approaching fast. "You have to go."

     The amount of suspense of the situation made her sick to her stomach. First, the boss forces her to abandon him -- heaven only knows whether or not he's okay -- and now Rascal wants her to leave him for roadkill? "I'm not leaving you, not like this," she refused. The truck was only a few feet away by now. "Rascal, I don't know what's gotten into you, but stop it. Even though you put me through a lot of shit, you're still my friend."

Rascal huffed bitterly. "That's all I'll ever be to you, right?"

     Before she could even attempt to answer, he rose and shoved her out of the way of the truck. In just mere seconds, the red truck slammed into his body, sending him gliding over the ground until he landed roughly, rolling onto his side. Chenelle screamed his name and rushed back over to him. Now, blood really poured from his mouth as his face contorted in multiple layers of pain and agony. It was just like Carlos all over again...

Bloodied. Wounded beyond repair. Hopeless.

     She had no choice but to leave him now. He already chose his fate -- his own way out of the hellish hurricane he manufactured, leaving her out in the middle of the monsoon. As his shallow breathing slowed to a stop and his eyes fluttered close for a final time, she felt like she was witnessing a part of herself pass on. Bringing his mangled body to hers, she let the tears that've been begging to fall slide down her face in warm streams, letting her cries crescendo between ragged breaths, releasing the flood of emotions she'd held hidden for so long.

     Her sobs slowed to a stop when she noticed a fluffy, white flurry of snow kiss his cheek, subsequently melting from the little warmth that remained in his body. Looking up, she saw flurries of snow sailing down to the reddened pavement, melting as soon as it touched it. "Why is it..." she whispered, her head tilting down at Rascal's corpse. A faint smile permanently resided on his face; he looked so peaceful... Planting a small kiss on his forehead, she laid him out as comfortably as she could -- not that it mattered now -- before rising to her feet and continuing her mission, alone.