Carlton ✔

36| The Bloodshot Schemes

Dedicated to:  debn0e

"Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head."
~ Willian Shakespeare

Carlton's POV

Sweat dripped down my forehead, time slowing down, warbling, as if I was drowning in deep waters. I felt the shortness of my breath blinding me for a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and then I was back.

"Dylan!" Ace screamed.

Dylan wouldn't move. His body was lifeless, he almost looked...dead.

I didn't blink. I couldn't. My lower lip trembled as dropped on my knees beside his body.

Dylan's hair sprayed on the floor beneath him, as still as he was. Once, his brunette strands used to bounce with joy, swaying around with the gale.

My eyes couldn't get wider than they had already become. Imagining his once lively personality, now strewn on the floor, soulless. He never missed an opportunity for a party, and he was equally enthusiastic for a fight. Even though he didn't have enough muscle power to actually win the fight.

He still tried.

He lost. And got back up again. And lost again.

"I've got your back, asshole," he said one day, grinning and slamming his fist in his hands, before I was about to fight someone way stronger than me. "We'll lose. But we'll lose together!"

A tear slid down my cheek, a headache spiralling in, pounding and throbbing. My vision spun as I saw his blood ooze out beneath him, reaching my knees, the scarlet shimmering off it, reminding me that this was real.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry we couldn't lose together.

More tears. They were falling with no resistance.

My breath came in gasps as I moved him to see the gun shot wound glinting on his stomach, bright red and wilful streams of blood gushed out from it.

And then Ace said those words I never wanted to hear in my life.

"Carlton..." Ace's fatigued eyes met mine, watery and dazed. "He's not breathing."

When I actually heard Ace say it out loud, the words knocked me in and out of consciousness, my mind whirring painfully.

"Dylan's not breathing."

No.

It can't be.

Many years ago, Dylan had shooed away someone who was robbing me in an alleyway; by telling the robber that he had the police on the phone. After the robber had run away, Dylan had smiled at me. "You're welcome."

"Why would you help me?"

"Hey, c'mon, don't be like that! Everyone needs a little savin' once in while!"

A burst of energy suddenly arose in my body, adrenaline rushing to all parts of my brain. I felt the surge and the intensity of my newfound hope.

I grabbed my suit, nails sinking into the soft fabric haphazardly, and pulled it off my shoulders. "Ray, call nine-one-one."

Raymond pulled out his phone immediately.

"Ace," I dug my fretful gaze in his eyes. He was shivering like a maniac, but he gathered himself. "Make him breathe again."