The Escort

29 - Broken - Pt. 1

Michael sat in his Mercedes, puffing on the second blunt with his dead eyes fixated on La Maison's front door.

The cold gun rested on his lap, his right hand mindlessly flicking the safety on and off.

When he felt the slight burning on his fingers, he realized he had smoked the joint entirely and he slowly blinked sitting up straight, tossing it out the window as he licked his lips and spat the little burnt weed that got stuck to his tongue.

He turned his gaze down for a second examining the clip one last time, pulled the slide back to its rearmost position, and released it to chamber a round before putting it behind his back in his pants as he exited the car with cold determination.

As he approached the gates, he could hear loud voices and an apparent commotion going on, so he slowly walked up toward the sound with his right hand carefully hovering over the base of his spine, just in case he needed to draw out his piece.

With furrowed eyebrows, he leaned over and held his breath as he blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes properly lubricated since they felt dusty after smoking.

"Tell me what the fuck u've done! Fuckin' talk or I swear I'll kill her! I don't have anything to lose!"

His breath hitched, making him a little light-headed. He had no doubt in his mind that the voice belonged to her, and as much as rage was blinding him before, the sound of her exasperated, angsty yell unraveled the beast within him, sending him to the point when he was no longer human.

Michael pulled out the gun and slammed the door open with his shoulder.

All he could see was red.

People in the mansion were on edge, and as soon as Michael barged in, heads turned, a desperate warning scream resounded and then, a deafening gunshot.

Then another.

And silence.

***