Hating YOU (Tord x Tom)

(STORY ACTUALLY CONTINUES) Epilogue: Busted and Blue

Silence, bare and utter silence.

It echoed throughout the bathroom, leaving me bewildered and lonely. I craved the subtle sound of water hitting the floor's tiles.

How long have I been sitting in this mess? 30 minutes? An hour? Time flew by me as quickly as a humming bird would.

My head gently hit the shower's wall, over and over as I tried to focus. The thoughts I couldn't grasp teased me and taunted me.

"Open it, open it," they chanted over and over.

The image of a preen, little box appeared inside my head. The red ribbon topped it like a cherry tops a cake; simple, yet almost mandatory. The box had no card, no indications. It was mysterious, intriguing and terrifying all at once.

Terrifying? Why would I feel fear derived from that box?

The answer is as simple as the ribbon or the cherry; my instincts told me to fear it.

Although, I must admit, that the thing was enchanting. It's wrapping shimmered in the light, exposing rainbows. True, good holographic shit.

My frail body shivered as the water became colder and colder. Droplets trailed down my head, to my toes. The freezing temperature felt relieving.

I waited patiently and observed how the tainted water slipped easily into the drain, leaving trails of washed-out blood behind.

Thinking back to the fancy container, I remembered how the box was perfectly placed by my apartment door. Also, due to the weather, it was slightly covered in snow.

Edd told me not to open it, that it could be dangerous. Considering the fact that it's from an unknown person, I guess he was right.

But after everything that happened, what could be worse? If a stupid box were to kill me, then so be it.

I closed the shower, my toes slowly pressed against the slippery floor. I ran my hands through my spiky hair and went straight to the sink.

The contents I previously placed inside the sink were, luckily, still in there.

I threw on some clothing, some rubber gloves, grabbed the contents and began to scrub off the dried blood.
Once they were clean, I headed out the steamy bathroom and set the contents aside.

The box was sitting on the corner of the wooden table, waiting patiently for me to open it.

But I had better things to do than opening a fucking box from a total stranger.

My hands traveled up and down the edges of the shiny thing. It begged to be opened, it almost cried to me. But, I didn't give in just yet.

I grasped the contents and walked towards the extra room. The one that Tord used to sleep in.

Inside, a dim light exposed the stained walls. I groggily strutted towards the metal table with a grown.

"Behold," I mumbled to myself, gazing at the guy who laid before me.
He wiggled and growled, attempting to get out. The guy's white eyes were a common symptom to my bite.

Earlier that night, I went back to Fun Dead. To see if everything was left untouched. It was, except that dumb ass teenagers started some dumb cult there. One of the kids got in my way; he brandished a gun before me.
That's when things went wrong.
I attacked him, thinking it was a soldier.

So I brought him back, he'll be my fifth "experiment" this month. I've been trying to find a cure to my bite. So I can eventually cure myself.

The boy wriggled and hissed, groaning to get out. I pulled out the contents; a vile containing a test remedy, the contents also held a syringe. This was all sent to me from an important sponsor...

I inserted the dose slowly into his vein and waited for a result.

The boy went limp for a few minutes, then he began to spasm uncontrollably.

No problem, one lethal dose of cyanide and hop! He'a gone in a jiffy...
I didn't mind leaving the body there, someone came to pick up my shit as soon as I called.

Courtesy of the sponsor.

The dimly lit room went silent, all I could hear was my steady breathing. I didn't want to do this, but I practically was forced into it.

By him. The sponsor.

He was unknown to me, but heck he seemed to be a sweet man. He offered great money to help me, but I had to do most the job myself.

Now, I'm not much of a science oriented guy, but living like a damn monster sucks so fuck it.

I walked away from that mess. My steps felt heavier by the second, that's when I understood it all. If I didn't open that damn box right at that moment, I would've lost my shit.

My hands grasped the small, yet heavy thing. I took the time to slowly, but surely remove the perfect ribbon. All of that just to, shamefully, torture myself with anxiety. I peeled away the wrapping steadily, careful not to break the posh attire of the box.

Finally, I got to the thick layer of carton and slit an opening to peek inside. Dying with eagerness, I ripped the container apart, anxious to witness my surprise.

My heart skipped a beat and nearly stopped.

A third generation Glock 17 was inside, accompanied with a letter.

I grasped the rifle, the magazine was full to the brim with bullets. For some reason, the thing was oddly familiar to me.

I took the letter and began to read it;

Dear Thomas,

I hope you appreciate this killer gift. As your anonymous sponsor, I feel the need to protect you from the people who might want to mess with you for the remedy test.

Also, I should add that this Glock is familiar to both of is, dear. If you cannot remember it, its fine.

I'll tell you about it all, face to face. But maybe not now...

I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.

- Sincerely,
Your old friend

At that moment, my sight vanished, all went black. The only thing I remember seeing was his God awful smile.

His voice echoed in my head,

"Yes, I know we'll meet again some sunny day~"

A/n
This is absolute mother fucking shit.
But whatever.
Have a nice day/night!~