DISCONTINUED - Promise // Ray X Reader

14 | Escape

January 14, 2046

I was up in the room with Don and Gilda, preparing the children for the escape. I was nervous and excited, or maybe just one or the other? We were helping the children tie their boots up; it was off, helping children who couldn't even tie their shoes for an escape of the place they thought was home. It was saddening, so young and yet they were forced to leave this place, I really wish none of this happened and they would be safe here, until an actual foster family took them to thrive past the age of 12.

"Don, Gilda, do you think they're really ready?" I asked, nervousness in my voice as it cracked. I was worried, not being able to properly train the kids in tree climbing, only here and there. I wasn't aloud to interact with Emma and Ray, staying under the radar.

"We'll be fine, (Y/N). I'm confident in all of them" Gildas soft voice next to me, as she wrapped a scarf around Yvettes neck tenderly, then placing a small kiss on her head. I nodded, and headed downstairs to go get myself a glass of water; myself not changed already but I wanted to talk to Emma.

When I entered the kitchen a strong smell of gasoline filled my nose, a bottle on the ground, Ray had one in hand, and Emma watching. They both looked up at me, I was at the door mouth agape.

"The hell is going on in here?" I asked, closing the door behind me. I scrunched my nose up, and stood next to Emma.

"Burn the building, a distraction for mom." Ray told me, before unscrewing another bottle and looking at Emma, who let out a small noise before speaking.

"Even if we start a fire... what is Mom decides to abandon the building? She might give up on putting out the fire and refuse to take her eyes of us, the merchandise" Emma asked, and Ray smirked.

"You realized that, eh? Yeah, you're exactly right. There;s a good possibility of that happening. Just starting a fire won't be enough. It we don't stop mom for sure, there won't be an opportunity to shake her off. But no worries. I've thought of that. It's simple. I just have to do this." And with the opened bottle of oil in his hand, he lifted his arm over himself, and dumped the contents over his hair. Both me and Emma cried out his name, shocked for his stupid choice that I knew he was making.

"Isn't it awesome? The perfect score with the set shipment date will burn up. She won't be able to abandon me. I've been waiting for this day." He gleamed in the mess he made, he was psychotic, and I trembled in place, unable to move.

"I decided this a long time ago. Years. Many years ago. A childish retaliation. You know what, Emma, (Y/N)? I've never been interested in studying or reading. But I endured it. I worked hard to improve my value to the highest it could be. Twelve years. I'm the feast that they've been waiting and waiting for. And I'm going to take that away from them tonight. Right before the harvest they've been looking forward too!" He cried out, drips of gasoline dripping off the ends of hair, the tip of his chin.

"Don't think you can serve me. Don't think you can eat me. Food? Merchandise? I don't give a shit. I'm a human being! Serves them right!" He was now talking and mumbling to himself, he'd gone crazy. Many years ago, before any of us knew. He made a suicide plan, a sacrifice.

"And this is fine. This is the best way. I've watched my family die all these years. I used them. They were all good kids, they were kind-hearted." And when he spoke those words my stomach lurched violently.

"How could you talk about them like that after you threw them under the bus? Why change my mind when I could've done the same thing to you?" I shouted, tears welling in my eyes before I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself not to cry. But he ignored me, my statement.

"Don't move. Either of you. Listen, you only have one chance. Make this work. Don't waste my life or Norman's life. I beg of you. Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you guys." And on the table he picked up a book, and me and Emma opened it, revealing its contents. Photographs he took of us, the one of Emma, Norman and I together being blinded by the light. Photos of the children running around. There was even a photo of me laying up top Ray's tree, like a sloth as the book I was reading in the photo was being held up by my one arm, other wrapped around the branch.