"I need to buy a gun," I say. The words hang in the air, blunt and heavy.
I watch the attendant's face twist in shock at the directness, her professional mask cracking for a single second. But she's trained for weirdos, I guess.
She blinks to regain her composure, her eyes refocusing on me like I'm just another transaction, then clears her throat. "Sure, do you have your papers," she asks, her voice flat.
I just nod, not trusting myself to speak again without my voice shaking. I hand her the folded envelope, the one I prepared this morning with a cold, numb feeling in my chest. I sign where she points, my scrawl messy on the digital pad.
While she's out back to get the specs of the pistol I requested, I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I tap the video. The one my brother, Mark, sent me just two hours ago.
My fists tighten on the device, the plastic case creaking in my grip. There she is. The girl I've planned to spend the rest of my miserable life with, writhing under him on his expensive silk sheets. Begging for more. She sounds like a cheap whore, the words she used to whisper to me now twisted and given to him.
I'm going to kill them. I don't bloody care if she's pregnant or not. She didn't consider that, or me, when she started screwing two brothers at the same time.
I get it. I get that he's richer. He's the upgraded, more successful version of me that makes my 9-5 job look like crap. But she's not a bloody child. She knew exactly what she was doing.
I start deleting our photos on my way to his place, riding the subway in a daze. Each false happy memory vanishes with a swipe.
The vacation we couldn't afford, the stupid selfies in our shitty apartment, the way she looked at me once like I was enough. I hold back non-existent tears, my eyes dry and burning.
I alight the vehicle and walk straight into the false sanctuary of my brother's mansion, the big iron gates feeling like a joke.
I'm immediately greeted with the sound of him groaning and my fiancee, Constance, gagging. He's growling out commands, his voice thick with pleasure.
I don't hesitate. I adjust the bullets in my pistol, a cheap thing, and push the door open. They're right there in the living room, like animals. She's on her knees, her mouth on him, one hand splayed on the stomach housing a child that I'm not even sure is mine anymore.
I shoot once into the ceiling. Plaster dust rains down. They squirm, scrambling apart in a panic. He yanks his pants up, his face a mask of fury and shock.
"Kairos, what the hell?"
"Shut up, Mark!" I aim the gun directly at his face. I watch the colour drain from Constance's face as she screams, a high-pitched, pathetic sound, and covers her ears like a child.
"Kairos please stop this, it won't end well for you," She gasps, her eyes wide.
"It won't end well for me? You're f-cking cheating on me while being pregnant with our child," My voice is shaking now, the rage making it hard to form words.
"I'll abort it if you want, okay? I just...I don't want this with you anymore. Yes, it's about the money, I don't imagine myself raising a kid with a middle-aged waiter," she says, and the words are like physical blows.
"You never even loved me?" I sound so stupid asking that, so weak. A part of me is still waiting for her to say something, anything, to contradict this nightmare. To tell me it's a lie, that he forced her, something.
"Of course, I did. In the beginning....I was young and foolish, I didn't know that I deserve better, Kairos. Look at you, you're so miserable, you work ten jobs, can't pay rent, you're even a bar boy?
"Stop." The word is a plea.
"I'm only saying the truth, Kairos. You shouldn't even think of love." She blurts it out, and it feels like the final nail in my coffin.
Mark laughs then, a rich, condescending sound that echoes in the huge room. I feel my grip on the gun tighten, my finger pressing the trigger in a blind rage. I shoot at his leg. The sound is loud, but much to my surprise, it does nothing. No blood, no scream. Just a dull click and a puff of smoke.
"A prop gun? You couldn't even afford an actual gun, Kairos," He laughs, throwing his head back as Constance giggles in rhythm with him, a nervous, relieved sound.
Shoot. My eyes dart around, and that's when I notice it. A tiny red beam against the large mirror. My eyes draw down, following the light to my own chest, then my hand, then my body. There are multiple red dots aimed all over me.
This is why they're so calm. There are about multiple gunmen surrounding the house, snipers probably, all waiting for his signal. I'm done for.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my voice hollow.
"I know you know about my involvement with Ernest's death."
"You stole from him, you bastard! Ernest was nothing but a good friend to us." I shout it, wanting to shatter his smug expression.
"Wh.. what are you talking about?" Constance whispers, her eyes darting between us, the giggle gone from her face.
"You think this prick magically got the money he's been spending? He killed your brother. Took everything from him and left you on the streets and now you're giving him blowjobs in gratitude, who's the pathetic one now, Constance?"
"I..I...is this true, Mark?" Her voice is small, broken.
I don't wait for them to start their bickering. With Mark's focus now entirely on Constance and her horrified expression, my only move is to make a run for it. I dash sideways, away from the target lines painted on my body. A rapid shot of bullets comes through the window, shattering the glass. Constance's scream is cut short. Great, she's been shot. I don't look back. I find my way to the kitchen, my shoulder slamming into the door, and I fumble with the lock, clicking it shut behind me.
Just then I hear Mark's footsteps tumbling down the hall, heavy and fast. He's coming for me.
What have I done? This is so much worse than I planned. I run from the kitchen into a smaller room, maybe a pantry, locking the door behind me with shaky hands. My heart is pounding against my ribs.There are loads of weapons here, boxes labelled "HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE" and knifes. What has Mark gotten himself into?
I search for my phone in my pocket, my fingers slick with sweat, dialing 911 when a loud knock cuts through the silence. The phone slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor and skittering under a low cupboard, just out of sight.
"Open this door, Kairos!" Mark's voice is a roar.
"Go to hell!" I curse back as I bend down, searching under the cupboard for my stupid phone. It's pitch black under there.
"You should be happy now huh, you've ruined everything!"
"No, everything is ruined because you're a liar and a cheat," I yell back, my voice cracking. I let out a sharp sigh of relief as I sight something else under the cupboard. A gun. The real one. I start trying to reach it, stretching my arm until my shoulder aches, but it's just far from my reach. My fingers barely graze the cold metal of the handle.
He shoots again, this time, the blast is deafening as he blows the door knob to pieces. He comes rushing into the room, his own proper gun raised, and without a word, he shoots right at my leg.
A white-hot, searing pain explodes in my thigh. A loud scream of agony leaves my lips as I finally, get a solid grip on the gun under the cupboard, my fingers closing around the familiar texture of the grip. Hot, angry tears pour out my eyes, blurring my vision.
He notices the movement and shoots again, this time hitting my arm. The impact is brutal. I bite back another shout, tasting blood in my mouth from where I clenched my jaw. He hovers over me, his dark eyes piercing through me, devoid of any brotherly feeling.
"Your life was already ruined, Kairos. You should be grateful to me, I gave you what you would never have even in death. I got us wealth, something our parents never could and you chose to waste your uneducated life away," he sneers.
"I'd rather be noble!" I spit the words through the pain.
"Oh so now you're a saint? Where has that gotten you too? Pathetic morons like you deserve to rot in hell where the unloved miserable souls like you are. The world would even do me a favor, I'm getting rid of a useless creature like you," He leans close and spits in my face. The warmth of it is the final insult.
My grip on the gun finally tightens, my finger finding the trigger. But before I can pull it up and aim, he makes his move. Three rapid, precise shots are drilled into my skull. The pain that shifts through me is impossible, a lightning storm inside my head. My body seizes up. Blood spills out of my mouth, hot and metallic, as I fight hard to keep my consciousness, to hold onto this one last moment.
He smirks, a victorious, ugly expression, and pulls me by my wounded leg out from under the cupboard, ready to finish the job. I use the last of my strength, a final surge of will, to raise my hand. I don't even look, just close my eyes tightly and pull the trigger. A rapid fire of shots echoes in the small room. I feel the gun kick in my hand with each one. I hear a wet sound, and then a heavy thud as he falls to the ground, his eyes wide with shock.
My own consciousness finally slips away then. My grip on the gun loosens, my arm going limp. The darkness slowly closes in, thick and welcoming, as my eyes shut for the last time. Then, a voice, not a sound but a feeling, harrows into my dying mind like a distant warning.
[Reaper's Access; DECLINED]
[Introducing Corrupter's Protocol.... enrolling host... entering abilities...]
[Upload, complete!]
[Congratulations, Aaron Jean Maddox!
You've been selected by the Homewrecking System, an elite division under the Corrupter's personal command.]