Winning His War

22

Jem's POV

My jaw clenched as I looked down at the man in front of me.

It had been days already and despite the fact the he didn't have any finger nails, had slashes from whips all over his body, and the multiple stab wounds all over his body, Crain hadn't so much as uttered a useful word.

I was becoming more and more pissed off as the days went on.

The only way to keep most of schedule the same was by waking up early and cutting out sunrise and coffee to head down here to interrogate him. By the time I got too tired to continue I was already late getting to the warehouse and I came back early to do more interrogation before Andrew and Patrick got home.

I'm close to just cutting my losses and letting the motherfucker bleed out of pure frustration at this point.

(Gore warning)

Now I stood here with a knife in my hand. The blade was covered in his blood and the air was thick. The smell was making me nauseous while my head began to pound.

The marks over his body, even the old ones, had blood spilling out of him. Deep bruises littered his skin and he could barely keep his eyes open but it didn't help the anger surging through me.

He had messed everything up.

The schedule was gone; Patrick and Andrew could have died in his pathetic attempt of an attack, I had to kill Ash Dunham because of his dumbass and now Patrick was investigating his death, and to top it all off I still didn't know who was really after me.

The handle of the knife began digging into my skin with how hard I was gripping it but I couldn't find it in myself to care as I thrust it into his side.

He didn't make a sound but his face screwed up in pain as I began twisting the knife to make a perfect circle in his skin.

"This would be so much easier if you would just tell me who fucking told you to kill me," I seethed, my hand never stopping as I continued to twist the blade.

"Please stop," he begged. I watched as he tried to shy away but he was too weak to move.

"Oh I wish I could but until I get to the bottom of this, I don't have the luxury to stop," I sighed out, ripping the knife from its wound. Blood gusted out of the hole, filling it until it over flowed and began pooling onto to the floor.

I don't give him a chance to recover from the pain before moving only inches down and plunging the knife into his skin again.

A cry left his mouth while tears leaked out from his eyes.

(End of gore)

I wanted to stop. I really did but I couldn't look at him without hating him more, making the pressure in my chest build up more and more.

The pressure was too familiar. It had been with me since I was young. It went hand and hand with the anger that surged through me.

I hated the feeling. It felt like my heart was too big for my chest and any second, the pounding would allow it to just jump out of me and never come back.

The feeling made my every fiber in my being tense as I willed my heart to stop pulsing but nothing ever helped, nothing but letting it out at least.

I gripped the knife harder, hoping while also knowing it wouldn't help ease the pressure, and when it didn't work I moved onto the next spot on Crain's body.

His screams filled the room for hours before I was able to stop. My arm felt like it was on fire but the pressure was finally gone, leaving a numb hole in my chest as I treated the wounds I had inflicted.

The cuts were deep. I knew if he didn't spill soon I would kill him on accident. The feeling would push me too far until there was no more blood to drip out of his body.

"Why won't you just kill me," he rasped out as I kept pressure on his last bleeding stab wound before wrapping it tight. "I knew you would get me back for trying to kill you but I thought I would be dead long before I saw you sneaking up behind me with a gun."

"I need to know who's trying to kill me. I wasn't the only one in that building you know. I can over look you killing me but the other two, not so much."

My eyes narrowed in on the confused look on his face.

"We didn't know anyone else was in there."

"So what? You thought I just drove extra cars to the building for no reason?"

"We thought they were abandoned. It's not like they were in good enough shape to think otherwise."

He had a point. Patrick and Andrew's cars were only a few miles away from heading to the junkyard. They're car troubles weren't exactly the most important thing at the moment though.

"The night it happened, all three of us got a text. My friends got a txt from me and I had gotten a text from one of them. How did you get their numbers?"

"We didn't do any of that. Our boss said he would handle everything, all we were supposed to do was show up at the right time and then leave."

His voice was weak and he wasn't able to keep his eyes open.

"I have to know. Good people who aren't apart of our life are going to die."

His breaths were shallow. Sweat was beginning to drip down his face.

"Elijah." He forced out. "Elijah Down."

He didn't say another word. His chest didn't heave for another breath. His heart didn't beat again.

A sigh ripped its way out of my chest as I pulled my hand away from his body.

The pressure in my chest was gone.

It didn't want me to pull anyone apart anymore but at what cost?

Last updated January 23, 2022