Blinded In Chains -Synacky-

Chapter 29 - The End

10 Years Later...

Third Person POV

Zacky woke up early, as early as he could manage. He had a hunch that it was about 5.30am, but seeing as he'd thrown his alarm clock across his room the previous morning, he had no idea what the time was. He didn't even care anyway; did it actually matter what time it was now?

He stood up out of bed and then sat back down, staring blankly at the wall of his bedroom for a moment. He sighed deeply, running a tattooed hand through the mass of raven-black hair that hung loosely around his face. And so the day had finally come...

He galnced over at the open window, seeing the first glints of sunlight dancing hesitantly on the horizon, the sky still a deep, dark blue. A cool breeze drifted into the room and ghosted across the pale, tattooed skin of Zacky's bare back, making him shiver as goosebumps pricked up all over his body.

He stood up and slowly paced around his room, yawning and trying to rid his head of the throbbing sensation that had suddenly filled it. He looked over at the very-nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniel's on his nightstand and sighed, realizing why he felt like crap. Well he felt worse than that, actually... Much worse.

He was absent minded for an unnamed reason, his mind focusing on random thoughts that had nothing to do with anything, and he knew that he was supposed to be thinking about something else... Sunconciously, he knew what it was, but he didn't want to face it. He was afraid that if he thought about it for even a second, then he'd never be able to shove it away, not ever.

He wandered slowly out of the bedroom, once again yawning as he padded down the hall and into the bathroom. Once in there he stood in front of the mirror, frowning before sighing deeply at his reflection.

His hair, overgrown and coarse. His eyes, tired and heavy. His cheeks, think and shallow. He ran his hand through his hair again and held it there, his entire face now visible. Zacky grimaced, letting his hair fall back into place.

He trailed his hand down his throat and stopped, his fingers hovering over a two-inch-long scar that he had forgotten about ages ago. He felt his lip trembling as he stared it, the memories flooding back to him. He felt a sense of déja vú wash over him, as he stared at himself in the mirror just as he had that day...

Zacky looked away from his reflection, his fingers still lingering over the scar and tears spewing from his eyes. If he was crying now... What was he going to do when he opened the bathroom cabinet and saw the picture?

What picture, you ask.

Zacky slowly opened the cabinet, biting down softly on his lower lip as he did so. But when he looked, he whimpered quietly and felt his knees weaken.

He had the photo of Brian tacked onto the inside of the door to the bathroom cabinet, and he didn't even know why. It hurt him every time he saw it, tears threatening to spill down his face when he did. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against the scrap of newspaper that was more or less ten years old. He looked so different in that picture, so different from what he looked like now. Zacky had visited him last week, but before that, he hadn't gone to see him in over a year. Zacky himself didn't know why he hadn't gone, but for some reason he felt the need to just escape it all.

Not that he had; the secret stashes of drugs and alcohol in his house were just some of the pieces of evidence from Zacky's year away from Brian.

Zacky pulled himself away from his thoughts, closing the bathroom cabinet and once again hiding Brian's face away. This day was going to be hard enough as it is; Zacky didn't need the added stress of having to see Brian's face any more than he had to today. It hurt enough already.

*

Brian's POV

I had been pacing my cell all morning, literally. I'd barely slept; A few hours here and there but I was constantly woken up by nothing other than pure fear. Yes, I'll admit it; I am scared out of my fucking mind.

I know it's not bad to be scared; everyone fears death to some extent, right? But I don't want to die, I really don't. I've been waiting for this day for ten years, and I could never ignore the fact that each day that passed was one day closer to today. I've grown so scared of this that it's kept me awake for days on end, made me momentarily paralyzed whenever I thought about it.

But I have to take this in my stride and face it; I'm going to die today, and there's nothing I can do to change that.

I continued to pace my cell, running my fingers slowly along the familiar concrete walls that I've grown to love over the years. I eventually found myself leaning against the door of my cell, my fingers wrapped around the thick metal bars and my head pressed gently against them. I was watching now, waiting; waiting for the warden to come and take me to my death.

And that moment came soon enough. As the white warden that had always insulted me, now old and grey and wrinkly, approached me, I could see a glint of sympathy in his eyes, only a sliver of it. He forced a weak, dimpled smile at me as he unlocked my cell, and I smiled back at him, reluctantly.

'C'mon then, Brian,' he said, surprising me when he spoke my first name. I stepped forward and he snapped handcuffs onto my wrists, holding my hands behind my back. 'How're ya feeling, buddy?' He asked in a hushed voice, his stale breath invading my sinuses and making me want to gag.

'Um, I'm okay,' I mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. 'Just a bit nervous, ya know?' He smiled up at me again, nodding, as he locked my cell door with one hand.

'Don't you worry about it. It'll all be over before ya know it.' He cleared his throat then, before fastening one hand on the back of my neck and the other on my cuffed wrists, he began to slowly push me down the hall.

'Dead man walkin',' He called out, and all of a sudden the cells either side of me were alive with activity.

'Goodbye, Brian!' Called a random voice, the first of many. I was told goodbye, good luck (god knows why, it's not like I'd need it), god bless you, and many other things that were sometimes intelligible. I smiled at as many people as I could, returning their goodbyes and saying thankyou... And to my surprise, the first tears started to brew behind my eyes.

*

Zacky's POV

I managed to keep my eyes off of him for just long enough. Long enough to postpone the tears until the right moment. I didn't want to cry, I didn't want him to see me cry.

I sit here now, with Zina on my right and Matt on my left, my father absent because he passed last year, awaiting the execution. Gena's parents are here too, but I'm totally ignoring them. I may sound like an asshole but I killed their daughter, I don't particularly want to speak to them.

We can see him, I can see him. He's been strapped down and his right arm is exposed, as is his chest. He's hooked up to a heart monitor and his heartbeat is surprisingly calm; I'd been expecting him to be going insane right now, but he seems pretty composed.

He's facing us, but he's not looking at us. He knows that I'm here, he probably doesn't want to look at me. Perhaps he's finally realized that him taking the blame for this was a stupid fucking idea. If I'm going to be perfectly honest, I'd rather it were me about to get killed, than him. I'd give anything for that. He's done nothing wrong.

Zina rests her head on my shoulder, sighing, and Matt has his arm slung around my shoulders as if we were just sitting on a couch watching TV. Well, this may be amusing for them, but I would so much rather be here alone. I didn't want them to come. I feel the need to hold back my emotions, just sit through this and leave. But I know that I'm going to break down in a matter of seconds so why am I even thinking about this?

He's looking at me, oh god, he's looking at me. He stares at me, a half-smile smeared across his thin lips, a hint of a sparkle re-igniting in his mocha brown eyes. I try and return his smile but it turns out as a grimace, and he just smirks at me. Seriously, Brian? You're minutes away from dying and you're fucking smirking?

'Mr Haner, is there anything you would like to say as we begin?' There's a pause after the doctor in there speaks, and Brian looks intently into my eyes again.

'Zacky,' he says, addressing me now. I don't answer, but I keep his eye contact. I can feel the tears and they're pressing against the backs of my eyes, but I ignore them, not caring if they spill. I'm focusing on Brian now.

'I don't know what I should say, really,' he says with despair, and I hear his breath catch as the first needle is pressed into his arm. He flinches, before looking at me seriously.

'But I can always guess. You know that I'm sorry, for everything, and you know that I love you...' I could hear him getting choked up, and I sighed, wiping at the corner of my right eye to catch an escaping tear. 'Nothing that I say now can change anything that's happened, but Zack... Sometimes I wish that I hadn't done certain things. I won't list them because I'm on borrowed time now...' I could hear his heartbeat slowing and I coughed over a quiet sob, unable to stop my tears now.

'Mr and Mrs Paulhus, I'm sorry for what I did to your daughter, and... Well what else can I say?' His eyes slipped closed for a few seconds, and then he was looking at me again.

'Zacky, I love you. And if I could somehow change how we met, that would have prevented this from happening, then I would. But I can't, so... I guess this is goodbye.'

'Brian,' I whispered, as the doctor injected Brian with the second drug. I sniffled, catching sight of one last smile on his perfect lips before his eyes slipped shut and his heartbeat dropped so that it was barely there. 'Brian,' I choked out, feeling as if my entire world had just been pulled out from beneath my feet.

Matt rubbed my shoulder gently, and for a fraction of a second I was glad that he cared. But, after that moment had passed, I stole one last look at the dying Brian and stormed out of the room.

*

Driving home, I almost crashed my car about a hundred times. It wasn't because I was blinded by tears, no. I didn't cry. But I couldn't concentrate on the road and the cars ahead of me and behing me. My mind kept skipping back and forth between memories and I became so engrossed in them, so intent on living them again, that I totally lost myself and almost got myself killed... Not that it would have mattered either way. I would mind dying.

As soon as I got home I bolted upstairs to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it. I marched straight over to my nightstand and yanked open the middle drawer, rifling through all the papers and random pieces of shit until I found it; my Magnum 44 revolver. It had been my dad's, but I'd stolen it from him years ago, for a reason I didn't even know.

But I was glad that I'd stolen it now.

'Zack?' I heard someone call just as I was loading a bullet into the revolver, and I gritted my teeth, wanting to shoot myself a million fucking times over now. Why the fuck did I ever give Zina a key to my house!?

'What!?' I yelled back, trying not to sound angry but failing miserably.

'Where are you?' I heard her footsteps on the stairs and I glared at thin air, my left hand
shaking as I gripped the revolver tightly.

'Bedroom,' I shouted, getting up to swiftly unlock the door before sitting back on my bed, pressing the gun hard to my temple. Moments later, Zina appeared in the doorway, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as she looked at me.

'Zacky! What the fuck are you doing!?' She screamed at me, and I just glared at her, pulling the gun away from my head slightly to twirl it round in my fingers, before pressing it to my head again.

'What does it look like?' I hissed, and I could already see tears in her eyes.

'Zacky... Why are you doing this?' She whispered, and I sighed, standing up, still holding the gun firmly to my skin.

'Why do you think?' I asked her softly, my voice coming out softer than intended. 'I just saw the love of my life die, why else would I be fucking doing this, huh!?' My sudden anger caused me to whip the gun away from my head and I pointed it at Zina, making her cower.

'Zacky, please, what's happened to you!?' She begged, her tears spilling down her face. I felt my hand shake and I momentarily lowered the gun, until I found it pressed against my head again. I could feel myself sweating, shaking, my entire body quivering with adrenaline.

'Brian, that's what fucking happened to me,' I growled, my finger hovering just millimetres from the trigger now. 'And ya know what, Zina? I've always hated the colour white.' I gestured to the pristine white walls of the bedroom, and I heard Zina whimper again. 'They could use a little bit of colour, don't you think?'

She shook her head, tears shining in her eyes and her lips trembling. 'Zacky, don't do this,' she pleaded, but I ignored her.

'I think red would be lovely, don't you?' I asked, looking around the room and imagining how awesome the red splatters would look on the contrasting white.

'Zacky...'

'I think I'll go for red. What's your favourite shade, Zina? Cuz mine's blood red.'