Joel Miller x Reader

Forty-Three

With the last of your strength and one hand pressed to your bleeding side, you stumble down the hallway. In front of you lay the saving door, a greenish yellow glow shone through the windows as the light of the lamps fell into the stairwell.

Spurs.

The very ones that had caused this world to come crumbling down.

Behind you sounded the first hasty steps. Voices shouted and it sounded like Mel was calling Owen's name.

Your hand was already on the door handle when someone jumped around the corner. A shot rang out and just missed your head by mere centimetres.

You pushed the door open as fast as you could. Spurs swirled in the breeze and covered you like a second skin. You could still see Owen following you with his men as the door fell shut behind you again.

When the men saw the spores filling the air, they dropped their weapons in panic and pressed their hands over their mouths.

Only Owen dared to approach you, came so close that it felt as if you were facing each other for a conversation.

His eyes locked with yours. The expression on his face was as cold as ice.

You, on the other hand, felt nothing when you looked at him. Your body was numb, whether from pain or indifference you didn't know exactly.

"Owen.", his name tasted strange on your tongue. "I'd say I'm sorry about Abby. But I'm not."

Grimly, he pulled a face.

"So you really did it.", he muttered, his voice full of hatred and disgust. "You killed her."

"I avenged my parents."

He shook his head. A spark of sorrow shimmered in his eyes.

"You are no better than her."

A tired smirk crept onto your lips.

"I never said I was. Tell me, Owen... will you continue this circle? I have finally got my peace. Will you find yours only when I am dead?"

For a moment, he hesitated. His eyes just stared at you, not even moving one bit.

Behind his back, a movement caught your attention.

Mel appeared, one hand on her belly while her eyes trembled with fear.

"Owen!", she called his name as only someone in love would. "Get away from there. The spores could infect you."

At her request, he actually took a step back, but he couldn't take his eyes off you.

"I'm afraid I have no other choice.", he finally replied. "I owe it to Abby."

You laughed and started walking backwards towards the stairs. Your body felt like lead, heavy and so tough. It was torture to move. You would have liked to lie down and fall asleep.

But there was something that prevented it. Someone was waiting for you, holding out a hand in greeting. You just had to take this hand.

"Forgive me if I can't let you do that.", you whispered, blood dripping from between your lips. "But... someone is waiting for me. And I don't want to make him wait."

You raised your hand and waved goodbye. When you turned your back to him, it felt like a weight was falling off your shoulders.

So that was it, the end. This is what redemption felt like. What a sweet feeling.

Behind you, Owen bared his teeth.

"I know where the exit is!", he called after you threateningly. "I will hunt you down!"

Nodding, you walked down the first steps. The warmth of your own blood kissed your skin.

"Not every prey is easy to catch, Owen.", you muttered as the spores tangled in your hair and settled on your clothes like fresh snow.

Every breath scratched inside your lungs, but it was okay, because it was that scratching that told you you were still alive. It was this scratching that made you smile and go on, knowing that it wasn't over yet.

You could still make it, your time had not yet come.

"Joel...", you whispered. "Wait for me. I'll be there soon."

But before you could escape, the sound of the door opening behind you chased through the staircase. Slowly your head turned, but your legs wouldn't let you stop.

Out of the corner of your eye you could catch a glimpse at Owen, as he threw a searching glance down at you.

He had gotten himself a mask that almost completely covered his hateful expression. Only the shimmer in his eyes was clearly visible.

The sound of breathing through a gas mask was so loud that it reached your ears even through the ringing.

Swallowing hard, you continued to climb down the stairs. It felt like racing.

But Owen was not injured, nor was he struggling with the effects of severe blood loss. It wasn't a minute before his footsteps sounded close behind you.

Suddenly he was so close that he had to force himself not to walk beside you.

You ignored him. Your gaze was fixed on the lower floors, on every step that lay before you. Nothing managed to reach you, even when the cold barrel of his gun pressed between your shoulder blades you remained motionless and just kept walking.

With each step your legs grew weaker.

It would have been easy to just shoot you in the back and leave you for dead. But that would have been too easy.

Owen may not have been with Abby anymore when she had met her end, but it was clear that there had been a spark of feeling left for her.

And it devastated him that you had killed her. You had taken away the option, the last spark of hope that his and Abby's relationship had been more than just a desperate attempt to feel love.

At that moment, his thirst for revenge was stronger than his understanding that you hadn't killed her just for selfish reasons. He didn't want to believe that her death had also been a tribute to your parents. And a necessary sacrifice to finally let go of the past.

Now he had taken your place.

He wanted your death.

But he didn't want to make it easy.