Death's Call

Chapter 1.

Narrator:

Clutching to the old, worn-out gold watch that had once belonged to his late friend Carlos - whose surname he couldn't quite remember- he reflected on the wild times they'd shared. A small, bitter smile curled at his lips as he watched Kennedy squirm in pain. His life hanging on a thin thread. Too thin for comfort.

"He's too loud. Cut off his tongue," Gerard ordered as he grinned, tilting his head to get a better view, as his men ripped out Kennedy's tongue. The sound was sickening but to Darian it was oddly amusing.

Gerard was a monster- who thrived in the depths of the drug world. A dangerous distributor, who controlled his empire with fear. Everyone was too scared to cross him. Everyone except, it seemed, for Kennedy.

No one would even dare cross the man who could end a life with the snap of a finger.

Funny huh?

How they called him a god, but to Darian he was just a man hiding behind his influence. That could be squashed by a greater God with just a thought.

His time would soon come, and when it did Darian would gratefully take him kicking and screaming. Just like he envisioned.

But for now, Darian would wait. For now it was Kennedy he was here for. For now he would be patient.

But Gerard was taking his time to kill Kennedy, like he wanted the screams to last longer. 

He was savoring every part of it and smirking when Kennedy begged for his life...without his tongue that is. That was merciless yet amusing to a powerful being like Darian. All he had to entertain himself was the loud and sweet sound of screams Kennedy made as a result of his body being torn apart.

For a being who didn't like to take part in tortures, he quite enjoyed Gerard's method. Plucking out fingernails to the last nail and shoving it into Kennedy's mouth. He called it tasting his wife for the last time. But in reality, it was him just warning his men around him who was in control. He was making an example out of Kennedy and every one of men knew it.

 Everyone of them knew what came out of betraying or crossing this man and so they didn't. Fear was a wicked thing wouldn't you think? It forces people to submit to weaker heads who are nothing but cowards if not for what they possessed over ones head. Power? Riches? Weapons? Drugs? That's enough to make them obey. To make them yield.

Kennedy used to be wise. Keeping his head down and his eyes closed when he saw something he wasn't supposed to. He was almost set. Promised a higher position of power, until he made one mistake. 

Taking a glance at the watch, Darian stood from his chair in the corner, before tucking it away in his pocket. 

It was a slow but painful torture. And with the pace Gerald was going, the sun may rise before Kennedy took his last breath.

"What made you think you could get away with sleeping with my wife?" Gerard growled, holding the bloody knife in his hand. Recklessly, swinging it near his face. The anger he felt seemed distant, more personal than just the fornication with his wife. This was power-driven, aimed purposefully at his pride.

The point he proved by dismantling Kennedy's body was that no one could cross him without consequence.

A husk chuckle escapes Darian's lips as he bends over to Kennedy. Staring deep into his eyes, almost seeing his dying and fractured soul, screaming for help while contradictorily begging to die right there and now.

Kennedy's eyes had a simultaneous blend in them. One Darian was used to seeing. It turned red with fury and fear at the same time. His body shook by the mere sight of Death before him but since he couldn't see Darian, he concluded that it was being tortured that scared him to his core.