God of Pain

26.Alec

Note: I promise this story has happy ending. I listened to Exile by Taylor Swift while writing this chapter

The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Tara and Stella were bound to chairs in front of me, their faces pale with fear. The air was thick with tension, and every breath felt like a struggle. Aaron stood across from me, his expression twisted into a cruel smile. In his hand, he held a gun—one bullet in the chamber.

"Choose," Aaron said, his voice cold and unfeeling. "You have to decide. Tara or Stella. One of them will die, and you have to make the choice."

I felt like the floor was falling away beneath me. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands trembled as I stared at the gun. The sight of Tara and Stella, both looking at me with wide, terrified eyes, was almost more than I could bear.

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "Don't make me do this. You can kill me, but don't make me choose between them."

Aaron's laughter echoed through the room, cold and merciless. "Oh, Alec, you misunderstand. This isn't about you. It's about making Tara experience the same kind of pain I felt when Emma died."

Emma. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Aaron's pain had turned him into a monster, and now he wanted to pass that pain onto me. But I couldn't—wouldn't—let him use me to torment Tara and Stella.

"Let them go," I said, my voice fierce despite the terror gripping me. "You want me? Fine. But let them go."

Aaron's eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. "No, no, Alec. You see, it's not just about you or me. It's about making her suffer. You'll choose, or I'll choose for you."

The weight of the decision crushed me, my thoughts a chaotic mess. I couldn't look at Tara and Stella, their helpless expressions breaking me inside. But I couldn't let Aaron win. Not like this.

"Please," I begged again, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm begging you. Don't do this."

Aaron's laugh grew harsher. "You have five minutes. Make your choice. Or I'll make it for you."

I paced back and forth, my mind racing. I had to think. I had to find a way out of this. But with Aaron's eyes fixed on me, his cruelty palpable, I felt trapped, cornered, with no clear escape.

Desperation clawed at me, and I glanced at Tara and Stella. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the reality of the situation was suffocating. Aaron's sadistic game had turned my world upside down, and I had to find a way to save them both—or at least try.

I took a deep breath, struggling to control the rising panic. "Aaron," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't know what you want from me, but if you think this will make me give up on them, you're wrong."

Aaron's grin widened. "Time's ticking, Alec. Choose, or the choice will be made for you."

With a final, anguished glance at Tara and Stella, I gripped the gun, my mind a whirlwind of fear and rage. I had to make a decision. But as the seconds ticked by, all I could think about was how I was failing them, how I was failing to protect the people I loved.

The gun in my hand felt like a lead weight, dragging me down with every breath. Tara and Stella were both looking at me, their fear palpable, and I was caught in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Aaron's twisted game had turned my world into a battlefield of impossible choices.

If I shoot Stella, I lose more than just a sister. I lose my family. My mother would never recover from the loss of her youngest child, and my father's anger and grief would be unbearable. The thought of returning home to their shattered lives, knowing I was the one who took Stella from them, was suffocating. The emptiness of that loss would be a void I could never fill.

But if I shoot Tara, it's like losing a part of myself. Tara isn't just someone I love; she's the anchor that keeps me grounded, the person who makes me feel whole. If she dies, a part of me dies with her. I know it; I feel it deep in my bones. I'd be lost, shattered. The very idea of her not being in my life makes my heart ache in a way I can't even describe. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if she was gone. I'd be hollow, a shell of the person I once was.

I glanced at Tara's tear-streaked face and then at Stella's wide, terrified eyes. My heart was breaking, every beat a reminder of the impossible choice Aaron had forced upon me.

I thought of my mother's warm hugs, my father's stern but loving guidance. I thought of Tara's laughter, the way she made even the darkest days seem bright. If I made the wrong choice, I'd lose everything that mattered. And if I made no choice at all, it would mean their deaths were on my hands, an unbearable burden I would never escape.

I gripped the gun tighter, my knuckles white. The weight of the decision was crushing, the pressure unbearable. My thoughts spiraled, trying to weigh the consequences of each action, but nothing seemed right. I was drowning in a sea of guilt and despair, every scenario leading to more pain, more loss.

Aaron's cruel laughter echoed around me, a constant reminder that time was running out. But even as the seconds ticked by, my mind was locked in a desperate struggle. I couldn't bear the thought of living with either choice. I couldn't bear to think of a future where Tara or Stella was gone.

In the end, the weight of the decision was almost too much to bear. I had to find a way out of this hellish scenario, a way to save them both. But with Aaron's sadistic game pushing me closer to the edge, I felt like I was losing my grip on reality, the world around me narrowing to the devastating choices before me.

Tara's voice cut through the chaos, her words trembling with a mixture of fear and resignation. "Alec," she said, her tone broken, "just shoot me. It's okay. I'm ready. Just make a choice."

Her plea was a dagger to my heart, and I could see the defeat in her eyes. It was as if she had already resigned herself to the idea that I wouldn't choose her. Her acceptance was more crushing than any of the violence around us.

"Please," she whispered again, her voice barely audible. "Just do it."

Her words tore at me, her broken spirit a stark reminder of how far we'd fallen. It was clear now that she had lost hope, that she believed I wouldn't—or couldn't—choose her. The realization that I had pushed her to this point, that my indecision had shattered her faith in me, was almost more than I could bear.

The gun felt impossibly heavy in my hand, a symbol of the pain and the impossible choices that surrounded us. My heart was a battlefield, every beat a reminder of the torment I was causing.

I looked at Tara, her eyes filled with a resigned sadness, and felt a deep, gnawing guilt. I had broken her. I had made her believe that I couldn't—or wouldn't—choose her. The thought that she had lost hope in me, that she saw me as someone incapable of saving her, was unbearable.

"No," I choked out, my voice raw with emotion. "I won't do it. I can't—"

But Tara's broken gaze stayed fixed on me. "Alec, I can't stand this anymore. If you don't choose, they'll just kill us all. I can't bear the thought of you being forced to choose between us."

The guilt crashed over me in waves. I had never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to see her so defeated. The very idea that I had pushed her to believe I would not choose her—when all I wanted was to save her, to save both of them—was devastating.