Unstoppable: Revitalized

-28-

Huh, no dreams. Strange.

Taking the covers off my head, I noted the pitch black darkness, confirming I did indeed sleep through most of the day. Checking my phone, I found the time to be around five-thirty, Thursday.

At least I only slept through one day and not a few. I have no idea how long I was in the Cooler for, after all. What day was it when everything went to shit, anyway?

The pain in my chest had gone entirely. Turning on the flashlight feature, I saw that the scar was still there, with another one, slightly larger, crossing into it, a misshapen 'X' now on my chest.

At least The Boss now has a target to cut into. The torture prolongs itself.

I tried to close my eyes, but my body seemed to wake immediately, the tiredness I was used to feeling not there for once. Surprised, I flung the covers off me and tested my body. My legs found the floor with no problem, and walking seemed as easy as ever. Taking advantage of this, I headed for downstairs, moving as quietly as possible down the staircase, the final step creaking on me. Silently cursing my stupidity, I took a look into the front room, finding it empty, the kitchen light on being the only indication anything had happened while I was resting the day away.

Maybe Callum went home, or he's doing work for The Boss? Who knows. 

Another glass of tap water was swallowed as I let the cold liquid sink into me, absorbing it's energy I'm sure I'd desperately need soon. I felt my body warm up, the blood moving faster inside me, giving me a clear indication that I was indeed still alive, if not thriving. I had another few glasses, letting the rest of me prepare myself for the day, before heading back up, changing into my uniform, and coming back down. I took another cigarette from the packet I'd left on the table, but found no lighter.

I must've left it outside. 

Heading straight out, I found that I didn't but rather Callum had it, as he was in the midst of lighting his own one up. He took a look at me, before curtly laughing, throwing the fire at me.

"You look more and more like a younger version of me every day. I'm sure you can guess, the girls took the bed. I couldn't sleep, so I came out here." He took a look across the garden, seeming to get lost in his own head as I took a seat beside him, skidding the lighter between us as we both took puffs, the coughing I had at the start now completely gone.

"Do you get a head rush of any kind? Like, do you feel weightless, or anything?" Callum asked. I shook my head, more focused on burning the end via my mouth, letting every puff coarse through my lungs before settling back into the night sky. The wind seemed to gently caress my cheeks, allowing the breeze to flutter around me, keeping me as relaxed as possible.

A lot may have changed, but at least Mother Nature is the same. At least there's that, Adam.

"You don't sleep well?" I kept the conversation going, trying to gauge anything I could out of him. He was a book sealed by so many locks it intrigued me more than upset me, and all I could do was try to pick them one by one.

"When you work for The Boss, you'll get it. By the way, you'll have to go back to school soon. He wants a sample of blood." Callum let the wind take the ash away from his smoke, rolling the filter in his hand as he examined it, more stone than flesh with his movements.

"However..." He continued, resting it on an ashtray he seemed to bring. "This works out for us. Look, there's four of us here right now. We can't keep moving from sofa to bed. We need something more permanent, more lasting. I was trying to think of what we could do to make our lives easier. It's nice, the couch, but it isn't great for sleeping on. We all need beds, but I can't afford to sneak anyone near to where I live. The Boss has people monitor me. Any ideas?" 

I have two. One is simply casting you out. But that would bite me in the arse, and quick. The other one..?

"I see one simple answer." I finished my cig, dropping the filter in the same pot I'd used before, Callum doing the same seconds later. "We get bunk beds. We move my bed and my parent's one out, and put those in. It does mean we share a room, but besides that? I can't see a problem."

Callum thought for a moment, before a rare smirk crept across his face, barely lit by the kitchen light.

"You don't snore, do you?

I'd just finished brewing a cup of tea as I watched Callum leave, heading somewhere to buy tools. I'd asked him if he needed anything, but he shook his head, and I simply left it at that.

The less I know about how he makes his money, the easier it'll be to have him here.

Taking a sip, I took the valuable time I now had to myself to reflect on the chaos that was now my life. Previously, I'd found life becomes a lot easier when you clutch onto a happier memory. It makes the sadder ones dull in comparison. My parents came to mind, but nothing stuck out, nor did anything at school, or home. I was left with nothing. I still felt hollow, and not just because of how much of my insides I'd seen. I leaned back, doing my best to keep the chair intact, before a lighting bolt memory flashed in front of me, ensnaring me:

There's me, beating up Liam. And there's Liam, being beaten to death by me.

It continued to cloud my head, a fly that wouldn't buzz off, forcefully showing every detail, every single note of pain Liam sang, every ripple of skin I felt bounce off my knuckles, every drop of spittle that hit the floor, all of it.

I beat him. To death. he's dead. Gone. Out of my life, and everyone else's, forever. Was it worth it?

I felt a tear threaten to break through my eyelid, causing the light to sparkle around me as I clawed to gain re-control over my brain, my body and mind feeling more separate than ever.

Was it worth killing him over what he'd done to me? Was the anger I let build in me worth letting out? Am I really just a killer? 

The memories shifted, and I found myself stood back in that room, Poppy's melting body staggering towards me, sword in hand, my blood still fresh on it.

What would I have done if the school caught on flames? Or if I'd have killed Charlotte, a girl with no choice in the matter? I'm not a hero, I'm a murderer. The killer. The one who thinks the ends justify the means.

Her flesh seemed to sizzle as she screamed like a frightened cat, her body slumping to the floor, motionless. 

Why did I let this happen? Why didn't I knock her out, or throw some mixture over her, and move on?

The final one smashed into me: The spike, lodged in my chest, my empty body looking at the sky, before plummeting down to earth.

This isn't right. I'm not right. That should've killed me, and all I've got to prove it happened was a small scar. Why am I not dead. Why me? What made me special? 

My vision seemed to twist as I landed, and I didn't see the monster anymore: I saw Poppy. I saw her shake, her tears trailing down her face as she huddled herself into a ball, trying to fight the demon inside of her, her mind failing to by the second.

I mean... at least some good came from it. Poppy no longer has to work against her will for The Boss. Nor does Charlotte, she's free to be whoever she wants to be, and Callum..? Well, he's still an enigma. In a world full of smart cookies, he's the one you don't remember making.

Sighing, I took another sip, letting both the time and the tea drain away, the darkness leaving as I thought back on everything I couldn't stand.