The One Weakness (manXman)

8. Blood Trail

Yet another very un-edited chapter. Yes, I'm lazy.

This chapter has been bit delayed. *cough* more like a lot *cough* But that was due to my computer crashing and then a lot of assignments all at once. *sigh*

I tried to make it just a bit longer (not much) to make up for it, but... yeah. Anyways here you go.

As always I am really happy to read your comments. So keep commenting! ...or something. I'm tired. It's past my bedtime.

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Derek sat in the sofa, knees pulled up to his chin as he tried to suppress the bile threatening to make him empty his stomach. The news was already over and a ridicules movie about a nerdy girl getting together with the popular jock was playing.

"Okay," Derek took a deep breath, "calm down. This could be a coincidence it is possible, perhaps Henry was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and was sacrificed by some crazy worshippers. It's possible." Though not likely, Derek thought. With quaking hands he reached for the remote and turned off the TV. The following silence felt heavy and hostile.

He raked a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to do now? Was he even supposed to do something? Who said that he had anything to do with what happened?

Derek sighed. He felt guilty. Henry's death could be his fault - even if he had never thought or meant for it to happen. Henry wasn't a bad guy - he wasn't exactly good either, but not evil or cruel. Just dumb.

Derek stood and wobbled to his bedroom. Perhaps things would look clearer to him in the morning. Suddenly Derek could hear someone knocking on his door. His first instinct was to pretend not to be home, but he knew that was hopeless. The person - or persons - outside had probably already seen the light in his windows.

Heart threatening to jump out of his chest any minute, Derek made his way downstairs. The door loomed before him, daring him to open it.

"Who is it?" Derek called and put his ear against the door. He waited a couple of seconds, but no one answered. Warily he opened the door slightly ajar so he could peek outside. The street lay completely deserted before him. Which was suspicious in itself. Today was a Saturday. Primetime for playing around and splurging all the money in the world.

Derek cautiously opened the door completely and stepped outside - keeping the door opened so he could flee inside at a moment's notice - and looked around. In the distance he could hear drunken laughter, sirens, and see the blinding lights from the different shops. Guess the street wasn't as deserted as he thought. He was getting paranoid. Derek turned to go back inside when something crunched under his foot.

Quickly he removed his foot to see what he had stepped on. The breath got stuck in his lunges and refused to leave. A pouch of drugs with a red star drawn on it in the same fashion as Henry's was painted on it. Derek reached for it and picked it up with shaking hands. Looking briefly over his shoulders, he ran inside and locked the door - double checking just to be sure.

"Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck," Derek cursed, his voice shaking. This could mean only one thing. Henry had not been killed by some crazy worshippers, and he wasn't chosen at random. The people who did him in were sending a message. Making sure their work got on TV and then just to be completely on the safe side they had left this, so Derek would know that it was a message. For him.

Derek ran upstairs and jumped into his bed, quickly pulling up the duvet so he was completely covered. This changed things completely. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a warning. Of what he wasn't sure. Back off before it's too late? We're coming for you?