Apocalypse [will not be finished]

Chapter Eighteen

When I was younger, I used to watch horror films with my cousins. They weren't all bad back then - gore that was clearly fake, body parts flailing everywhere. They never managed to scare me, much to the disappointment of every family member that tried to catch me out. They hid around corners, whispered under my bedroom door, knocked things over during the film. But I never flinched, never gave anything away except a smile.

So, I, a little kid who barely knew anything, believed I was accustomed to violence and the kind of stuff shown in horror movies. I figured, that since none of the films could get any kind of reaction out of me, I could deal with anything. Even in real life.

I'd always thought I'd be fine with seeing death, blood, gore. When I killed my parents, I was shaky - but it was nothing like how this felt. With my parents, I knew they had to die. They weren't them anymore.

But this; this was something I didn't care to witness, ever again.

As soon as the gun went off, I had dropped to the floor. Luke had dropped beside me. Within moments, we were both ready, crouched so that we could tackle Ritchie if need be - but he wasn't even looking at us. Instead, his eyes were staring at the doorway, wild with excitement. They matched the unnerving grin that sat, unwavering, on his face. Vomit was rising up my throat; I didn't want to look at the doorway for fear of what I would see. From beside me, Luke's gasp just confirmed what I imagined.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I heard Roshi scream, but Ritchie didn't even flinch. Instead, his finger approached the trigger once again.

I risked a look at the doorway. Sure enough, Alex was lying on the floor; Roshi was bent over him, horror on her face, aiming Alex's rifle at him. She was crying, the tears falling quick down her cheeks.

"Ritchie?" I said, quietly. He stopped, blinking suddenly and looking at me.

I had no idea what I was doing; I could barely look at him, barely keep upright. Vomit crept slowly up my throat once more, threatening to projectile all over him. I kept my eyes firmly set on him, ignoring the peripheral view I was getting of Alex's still body. For Pete's sake, Roshi, I thought. Stop pointing your bloody gun and help him. 

I stood, slowly, carefully. Ritchie's gun did not move, and stayed aimed at the door. For the time being, I was safe. 

"Ritchie, what are you doing?" He twitched, licking his lips. 

"Laurie, I had to do that. He's bad, he's bad, this is for the greater good -," 

"Hey, it's okay," I kept my voice as steady as I could, eyes trained on him. I had no idea what I was doing. "It's okay, he's dead." 

"He's dead." He repeated, and then looked over at the scene, at Alex and a distressed Roshi. He seemed to process things for a while, think about what he'd actually done. 

And then he dropped his gun to the ground with a large clatter, and began to hit himself. 

Oh, fuck's sake. Big helpful dude has to turn out to be a raging, bat-shit maniac. Of course. 

"Ritchie, it's fine. It's okay. He's dead, you did it." I said slowly, carefully. 

He seemed to be listening to me, despite, not looking at me, because his hands ceased punching and instead stay frozen by his temples. He was crying, I could figure out that much, from the little sobbing noises that were just managing to escape from him. I had no idea what I was doing, or even what I was meant to do in such a situation. I had no training. Did I pick the gun up and threaten him? Hug him to comfort him?

Roshi, in turn of seeing Ritchie's moment of weakness, had dropped her own gun and now kneeled next to Alex, pressing her face into his hand, the hand she had grasped in her own. I had no idea how Ritchie would react if she moved him to get help. Oh, fuck. This was not going well.