White Flag

Whatever It Takes

It was about one in the morning when Feli had the dream.
Ludwig was alive and they had started a family together. A little boy who tackled any adventure was their only child. The two new parents loved him with all their heart. They couldn't ask for more.
Then Feliciano killed both of them.
He and Ludwig were in an argument and Feli became so enraged he smashed a coffee cup on Ludwig's head. He grabbed a steak knife from the kitchen counter and slit his throat. He was crying the whole time. Ludwig was not. He was smiling.
Then he whirled to Jamie, the bouncing four year old with eyes so wide with fear they could pop out of his head, and rammed the knife into his stomach. He fell to the ground, his body shuddering as a cough spasm began. Feliciano was now smiling.
     No--Luciano was now smiling.
     Jamie bled to death before Luciano could do anything else.

Waking up with a yell, Feliciano grasped his face with his hands, his cheeks wet with tears. He closed his eyes, drew his knees close to his chest, and began to sob.
"It was just a dream. Just a dream. Please. Stop crying, you failure."
He breathed in and--
He froze mid-breath, the air around him changing. He stood up, the familiar feeling entering his soul.
Ludwig was here! He was here! If even for just a moment, he was there. Feliciano laughed, tears of joy streaming down his face. He was here! He was okay! Feli looked up. From under the tree he could see what seemed like all of the brightest stars in the universe. They were beautiful, each a different level of light. Some looked small, some looked quite large. The sky was a deep black, the color you would find in Donald Trump's soul for instance, or maybe the color of a single Raven perched on top of a broken fence post. It was all so incredibly beautiful. With Ludwig with him, Feliciano would make it. He would find who killed him. Whatever it took.
Whatever it took.
The feeling of Ludwig surrounding him vanished. Feliciano frowned, sighing. I'd better keep moving anyways. The poppies had been crushed underneath the Italian while he was sleeping. He'd miss this tree, it felt as though he'd seen it before, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. The breeze whirled through its branches, what was left of the leaves brushing together. But he continued to move.
His stomach was growling. Finally out of the trees, food would be easier to find. Including himself. He was practically a rabbit to the police, scrambling around in the open with no trees for cover. The grass was tall, though. Maybe that would help hide his small body. This would be easier than he thought.
With dawn approaching, Feli wanted to find sleeping prey before they woke up. He needed a weapon first. Well, maybe not so much a weapon as a trap. But he did have that knife. Maybe... Then he would be on his way to Spain.
Stomach growling, he pushed his way through the tall grass in search of life.