A Match Made in Hell

66

"August it's been fifteen minutes I will fuck you up—"

"Holy motherfucking shit, I hate Armstrongs! Is your whole family this impatient? Are all of you this annoying?" He barks. "Wait a fucking second, god fucking knows how many hours it'll take to carry that stupid motherfucker up those stairs—"

"I will fuck you up." I repeat, a hint of anger in my tone. No shit, of course there's anger in my tone because I'm about to fuck this bitch up.

He sighs to himself, before changing the subject completely."just so you know, you've got 20 days. Maximum." He nods his head at me, making sure I understand. "I'm not putting up with this shit any longer, I'm fucking done. If he's not dead in 20 days, you are dead in 20 days."

"That doesn't sound too hard." I shrug, chuckling to myself. It won't bother me at all if I die after this, not that its that big of a deal.

"No, wait, sorry." He laughs to himself, slapping his own forehead with the palm of his hand. "Let me rephrase that," he clears his throat; "Ivanov dies if Armstrong isn't dead in 20 days."

My smile suddenly drops. No way, he's bluffing. He wouldn't fucking do that.

"Why?" I ask him, refusing to turn my head to meet his eyes. Hell, I'd pull his eyeballs out if I looked at him for a split second. "Why kill him when I'm standing right here?"

"Because you can't live without him."

That, makes me turn to him. The fuck is this guy on?

"What?"

"You can't live without him." He admits carelessly. "You Armstrongs, you trust people too fast, and you're all suicidal when it comes to your boyfriends, fucking faggots."

I stand there, knowing I can't attack him or insult him back. Not when there's so many armed soldiers in the room.

"Kill me, if I fail." I say simply. "Wont be any point in killing him, anyway."

He furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head forward toward my direction in confusion, like he doesn't understand a word that's coming out of my mouth.

"He's had a shitty life." I whisper. "Please, for fucks sake, let him live."

"I'll see about that." He grins, satisfied by my answer. Hell, if he does anything to Zachary, if I die, I'll haunt this motherfucker until the day he dies.

"If I succeed, but don't survive," I start, my voice hoarse and quiet, "make sure he gets to somewhere safe. Somewhere that nobody will find him. Oddly enough, I trust you not to hurt him."

"Fuck, you're obsessed." He gags.

"You'll never fucking know what it's like." I say to him coldly, shaking my head. "You will never experience true love, because you're not capable of it. And it's better for you that way."

"How would you know?" He chuckles, not taking me seriously at all. If he thinks I'm fucking kidding, this shit won't end well, because I know damn well I'm not.

"Because I've experienced it, and it sucks." I laugh to myself quietly, rubbing the back of my neck. "It hurts, like fucking hell."

"You're just a stupid fucking kid, you don't know shit. Especially about love." He turns away angrily, clearly pissed off. "You think you know so much, but this is your first time experiencing shit like this."

"Since you know so much about it, why don't you tell me about your experience?" I shrug. "Whats the worst that could happen? I'm just a stupid kid, who would I tell?"

"Stop talking to me like I'm your friend." He suddenly growls. "Have some fucking respect, and don't you ever talk to me like that again."

"Come on, I might as well get to know you while I'm staying here?" I smile a little bit, not like he's going to do anything. "Was it Beverly? Hell, do you even love Beverly? Some other gir—"