A Business Pleasure

Chapter 35: Plan? What Plan?

TW: self-harm.

Gawd can't believe it was august since I last updated 😱 I am so sorry everyone but hopefully you enjoy this one.... We are slowly getting closer to the end of this book so Thankyou for sticking with me ❤️

Ant growled as he shot up another cardboard target in the shooting range,  completely obliterating the cutout man. It wasn't enough to relax his shaking nerves however, so the dark haired man shoved off his protective ear muffs and chucked them to the ground. Ant filled up another glass of expensive whisky and downed it instantly, feeling it slowly numb every hyperactive nerve in his body.

"P-please... p-please stop... stop it! ARGGHH! N-no! No please... get off m-me! please!"

"Shut up bitch!"

"Arghowww!"

"Just take it!!"

Raising the gun again, Ant fired his remaining 12 rounds perfectly into the head of the last dummy. When the gun clicked empty he screamed in pure blinding rage, throwing the weapon across the room at his demons and when that didn't work he threw his glass, seething as he watched it shatter so effortlessly, not even making a dent against the concrete.

That's what he felt like, an insignificant tool being thrown towards a wall, in the end he would break, having caused no greater impact in the world and no one would care when he was gone. They'd just pick up the shards and throw them away like he was nothing. Replace it with a new one, maybe one less fragile. In his own head Ant knew he was damaged goods, there was for only so long he could move through the world as though he was worth the chaos he left behind him.

Anthony grabbed his bottle by the neck and slid down the wall onto the carpeted floor,
his head hung between his elbows and bent legs.

"You couldn't protect yourself but you can protect him."

"If you let this bastard go then he might as well have killed you when you were young."

"This is the right thing son."

"This is what you were made for god dammit!"

"Pull the god damn trigger on this murderer now!

"finish it!!"

"JUST SHOOT HIM!!!"

!!!BANG!!!!!!!

"You're not a killer Anth. My Anth isn't a killer."

Slowly Ant raised his head, his eyes puffy and red from remembering those lifeless eyes staring back at him. The ones with the bullet between them, with a trail of bloody tears rolling down that same face that haunted him where ever he turned.

Taking another swing of his poison, Ant pulled off the glove covering his left hand and let out a thick breath of distress when he found the familiar carved shape of an eye staring back at him. He hated it. The man was dead, how was it fair that he was still watching him every second of his life.

"You can't escape me bitch."

After drinking enough of the bottle to numb his mind suitably, in one swift movement Ant flicked his knife from his left wrist and stared at the sharp blade, wincing as he brought the edge to his other hand.

"I own you Mcpartlin. You'd do well to remember that."

"I'm not yours and you can go to hell." his deep voice slurred to only the voice In his head as he grunted in pain at the sensation of the knife hatching away at the eye. He felt every ounce of pain and struggled to see through the tears clouding his scrunched up blue eyes, it reminded him of those times he'd been held down and had a knife taken to his skin, reminded him of how much it hurt and how helpless hed felt. How he had cried and cried days after as his hand bled out.