I did not understand why the guard in front of my door had his throat slit open.
Or why he had a gun.
But it all makes sense now.
Emiliano let me out. He let me go out, take Luther, have the gun.
All for this moment- for Lior.
I have to make a choice- have an already half-dead man's blood on my hands
Or give up on Luther.
Give him back. Betray him. Sentence him to death.
If I do that -
But to kill a man.
Guess it's merciful that he let him be half dead. That he took away part of the guilt.
Look at him.
I can see the flies eating away his lungs as he still breathes.
Who could save him? He doesn't stand a chance…
Not without Emiliano.
And he comes at too much of a cost.
So it's only logical-
No, it's an act of mercy.
Of pity.
Of charity really.
Right? Right.
I feel my hands tremble on the trigger. I don't even know when I pulled the gun out.
I can hear Luther crying and screaming. His voice is guttural- hurt. It makes my skin crawl.
I've never thought Luther could cry like that. Shaking, full of snot and rage-
It's not just grief. It's something deeper. That sound… it's someone losing the last piece of hope they had.
Did he know this person?
Were they close?
If I kill him, could Luther ever forgive me?
Wait.
What if he doesn't?
If I pull the trigger, Luther will see me as the killer of his friend.
If I don't, Luther will go back to Emiliano.
Either way, I lose him.
What am I supposed to do?
I-
I don't know how to fix it. How to win.
Whatever
The only way I can get forgiveness is by still having Luther by my side.
So let's take the poor guy out of his misery.
One quick shot.
It echoed through all the passages and corridors we went through, making it amplified.
If hell were a sound, that's how it would sound like.
I see Luther looking at Lior. Frozen just for a second.
His beautiful curly hair was drenched in blood. His face was covered in it too- along with snot and tears. He looked like a wreck.
Nothing like the man who used to act like I was gum on his Louboutins. Not classy. Not arrogant.
Nothing, but broken.
I wonder if I've broken him completely. If there's any part of him that could be pieced back together once this is over—if this ever ends.
Yet, for the first time since I've met him, he looks reachable. Not like an arrogant deity, but like a human.
And I hate myself for thinking like that.
I tried to get a grip on his hand. Pull him out. Run.
He gazed at me. Angry, hurt, distrustful.
It's fine. Hate me.
We'll fix that, but now we need to keep you safe.
We need to get out. Fast.
I throw him on my back. Dead weight. Familiar at this point.
I feel his punches, his protests, his tears falling.
I can't hear what he's saying. The sound of the shooting was still ringing in my ears.
Alongside the vivid image of Lior muttering "thank you" as the bullet penetrated his heart.
Although, that might be a hallucination out of my guilt to comfort me.
And just like that- we are outside.
The rain is pouring on us like at the end of an action movie.
It hits so hard it feels angry. Like the sky's punishing us for surviving.
I wish it could wash away all that happened, but it doesn't.
I'm cold.
I'm so cold.
"Why didn't you just leave him there? He could have been saved?"
Why?
I didn't even think of it-
He is right. Emiliano would have recycled him, given how important he was to Luther.
But now he's dead.
I just killed a man for nothing.
"What life would he have lived as Emiliano's pawn anyway?", I hear myself mumbling.
I don't believe that.
I know he could have had the chance to escape. At some point.
But what can I say? How can I redeem myself?
No matter how hard it rains, there is still blood on my hands.
I need to snap out of it.
To take Luther somewhere safe.
Emiliano's hunt began the moment we exited.
No.
It started the minute he left my room unlocked, knowing I would go to save Luther.
I see a car hidden. The abandoned building cast a shadow so dark on it, I almost missed it.
Luther doesn't talk anymore. Not when I've put him in the car, not when I started to drive away.
I glance at him in the rearview mirror. His lips are pale, his eyes glassy. He looks like he's halfway out of his own body.He doesn't blink. Doesn't speak. Just keeps his arms folded tightly across his chest like he's trying to hold himself together. Like if he lets go, he'll fall apart.
He's shivering violently. I don't think the coldness from the rain is the reason.
"We'll go to a motel. My house is not safe right now."
"I wanna go home."
"We can't. Your father is there."
Luther looks at me confused.
Ah, he doesn't know.
Fuck, I don't wanna tell him.
I don't want him to grieve for his father today too.
But he's staring at me. And my hands are shaking on the wheel.
I stopped the car.
We don't have time, but after hearing this-
He will need a moment- a safe place.
A dirt path in the woods is more private than a highway. Even with our predator lurking in the shadows.
"Luther"
He looks at me. Annoyed, but curious. Demanding for an answer.
"Luther, your father was the one who gave you to Emiliano."