Trail of the Dead

Chapter 3

Sunlight streamed through the window leaking into my eyes as I slowly opened them squinting against the sea of light that followed. My head was throbbing and I was a mess of sweat that smelt like alcohol; a shower was my first thought. As my eyes adjusted, my attention was drawn to the window that allowed the blinding light to penetrate my gloomy flat. At first, I had thought it was a liquid that had stained the glass but as I looked closer, my eyes spotted the sharp and jagged edges. I got up and dragged myself to the window but came to an abrupt stop when I felt a sharp pang at the sole of my foot. My vision trailed down to the point of contact immediately recognising the crimson liquid flooding out.

"Shit" my groggy voice filled the room.

I then saw the broken glass scattered on the floor and the dozens of bottles dotted around the room. Again, I had no recollection of last night's events but I guessed my anger had probably gotten to me.

I got down and started gathering the glass, thoughts trailing miles away. Yesterday morning, I had taken half the money from the shithead's transfer and left it to the orphanage that had been my shelter for so many years. Maybe it would help make the place a little less miserable than it is. Money didn't hold importance in my mind, it was simply a necessity because there was no way around it. If I wanted weapons, ammo, food, shelter I had to have money, so I kept just enough to pay off for what was needed.

I got up and emptied my hands into the bin then lounged into the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. I knew it wouldn't help with the headache, but it always helped to clear my mind from the sleepless night before. A normal nights sleep was never a luxury for me, his soulless eyes were burned into my mind. I saw them when I opened my eyes and felt them when I closed them. His mask mocked me. He plagued my days and nights, if everything else wasn't real enough, the dreams and the screams that woke me up were stone-cold reality. Last summer he'd come and stolen me, I couldn't tell the day apart from the night as the endless torture sunk deeper into my soul than anything else since the night he destroyed my world had. My entire body was burning and my helpless screams had echoed into nothingness because he was soulless, he had nothing human about him. So he only made it more unbearable, he took pleasure from my fear and pain. But worse than all that had been his eyes, darker than the last time I had seen them. They sucked the life out of me even with a mere thought. The power he had over me was crippling, so my only thought was to get rid of it by getting rid of him. Hence I had made it my life's purpose to put an end to his wrath. No matter what.

I sauntered over to my so called "kitchen" switching on the kettle to make my morning coffee throwing in 2 paracetamol to soothe my pulsing head. Proper meals were rare for me, I lived of what I got; a habit I hadn't bothered to change. My days consisted of exercise, planning, and spending the rest of my time at the Stygian: a pub in town. So after a 2 hour anger fueled workout followed by a cold shower, I found myself strolling down the lively streets of London on my way to the bar. Hood drawn down, my feet skipped down the steps walking through the double doors leading to the dimly lit room occupied mostly by rudimentary men immersed in their conversations. Returning the bar-man's friendly nod, I found my way over to my regular table in the corner keeping my eyes away from any potential human contact. Although I recognized the faces of the regulars, I didn't share any contact with them, I preferred it that way. Many had told me I'm "antisocial" and give off a IDGAF stay away from me or else vibe but those few no longer had the ability to look anyone let alone me in the eyes anymore. The bar man brought over my regular bourbon, as I slowly brought the poisonous liquid to my lips my ears tuned in to the conversation between the 2 men to my left.

"...shot him in the legs then between the eyes" a deep voice spoke.

"shit, where was this?" another voice replied trying to compose the shock in their voice.

"The brick, guy was a player, proper bastard but well connected. Whoever did it had some guts but he ain't gonna get away from this alive"

I smirked to myself thinking back to the events of the night. How the gun had felt in my hand as I became one with it, I had done it so many times but there was something about the look of fear and desperation in his eyes that had triggered something in me and it had felt real good.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eyes focused on the huge double doors. Hands ready to grab my gun at any given time. Fists balled and knuckles white. I was dressed in the same leather outfit from the other night and concealed my face with a black bandana. Marching to the door, I kicked it hard to reveal a small bald man wearing a filthy sleeveless black shirt, kaki cargo shorts and a thick silver chain.

"Where do you think your going?" was the only thing his shocked demeanor could say.

I continued to trudge forward planning only to get to Mike but the realisation finally hit the midget causing him to raise his hand clutching a loaded pistol. I cocked my head to the side and turned to look at him and without warning shot him right between the eyes. The adrenaline immediately began coursing through my veins telling me it was time. My vision became clearer, my hearing sharper alerting me of the hurried footsteps coming my way. Adjusting my feet and pulling out my AK, I fixed my eyes at the direction of the sounds. Then everything happened in a blur. It was like another part of my was awaken, a part that only came out to play when there was a gun in my hand and adrenaline at it's highest. Firing shots and throwing kicks and punches using the screams to fuel me. Every look of agony, every shriek of pain was used to pay of the debt of their sins.

A silence fell in the chilly warehouse that contrasted heavily with the ghost screams of the sinful souls stepping into hell. My eyes scanned the bodies looking for 1 face that was the only 1 that wasn't there, but it didn't bring me down from the high. Stumbling over the bodies, I reached the double doors once more. Everything blurred together as I trudged past the rapid cars and lights trying to reach the phonebooth down the street. Crashing into the glass, I slotted in 2 coins and dialed 999.

"420 Barklane" My raspy british accent echoed in the glass room followed by the sound of the receiver clicking back into place.

I stumbled out, feeling the soreness of my body as the adrenaline in my veins lowered. My head was heavy and my legs barely able to keep me up. Fighting the familiar darkness, my feet trudged on, my vision becoming more and more blurry. My clouded mind fogged my conscience, so I was completely oblivious when I came to face a tall stranger, but before I could register anything, I gave away.

Hello my fellow villains!

Sorry about the long wait, it's the last week of my school and the week we come back after the holidays is test week so I have been using all my free time to organize my revision and notes from class. I plan to update quite frequently during this Easter break so brace yourselves! I won't be updating the week after the break though because of the test stuff -_- so hope these few updates make up for the time it takes to get to a normal routine.

What do we think of this chapter? Our girl has definitely got a psychotic streak.

Till we meet again...