Remains

Even My Dad Does Sometimes / Ed Sheeran

❝I very seriously thought he was going to kill me too, right then and there. 

The only thing I could see beyond his mask were his two beady, bloodshot eyes. That, and a tiny patch of pale skin around them, but that was all. He was dressed in all black with combat boots, gloves and a bulletproof vest.

 His concealed hands clenched onto the machine gun that he had just used to kill Elijah. All that filled my line of sight was the bleeding, lifeless body that was slumped in front of me, his limp arm draped across my feet. I was too paralysed with fear and shock to move it, let alone move away from the gunman who bore his glare right into my very soul. 

I felt fresh tears spill over my cheeks, the realisation hitting me that he was probably going to kill me next. I don't want to die. Please, I have so much left. 

In my head, that's all that ran through my thoughts. I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die. 

The man drove his boot into Elijah's limp body, jolting him against my shins, causing me to flinch. 

I don't want to die.

"You'll end up just like him soon. Why bother taking you now if I can watch you suffer?" he began, his voice deep and unfamiliar, "that's the only reason I'm doing this. To make people suffer. I've been dealt a bad hand at life, so why should you all deserve better? If the cops try to save you, I'll kill everyone here without batting an eye." 

I couldn't even look him in the eyes. I didn't know why he was telling me any of this, but his words barely registered when I caught sight of Elijah's body once again, all of the red causing my vision to blur. 

"Stay there if you like, darling, but nobody's safe here. If you try anything, I'll make you wish you were never born." He said, laced with anger. 

Then there was a gunshot, and searing pain in my left calf. He had shot me in the leg, and then he muttered that it was so I wouldn't run. 

I could barely hear his wrathful footsteps as he left me to writhe in my newfound pain. The blood dripped down my leg to mix with the pool that rested below Elijah, and I was in too much of a shocked state to even move him off of my legs. 

I let out a silent scream of agony, clutching my leg in desperation. The bullet was still lodged inside my leg, and I knew I wasn't qualified enough to know how to safely remove it. All I could do was sob, shaking violently, my nose weeping with mucus. Sweat dripped down my neck, and my chest was tightening, constricting my limited breathing. 

I could barely move, and it was as if my limbs had lost all memory of how to function. 

I knew that I was slipping deeper into shock, and all that was doing was making the pain worse. My heart was thumping harder in my throat, and it was all I could hear aside from my frayed breathing. I felt myself begin to shiver, the sweat on my skin sending goosebumps across my body. 

I leaned further into the shelf so that I was almost lying horizontally, my tears dripping onto the white tile. I curled up, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, seriously doubting if I would even make it out alive. 

At that point in time, I had already given myself up for dead.

And with how much that broke me, I may as well have been.❞