What I'd do for Love

Justin

We'd all agreed to meet in the middle of the city. The Middle is an open area, paved over, with a centre shop towering over everything, and smaller establishments surrounding it. You can only enter and leave through the straight passage, and the two roads on the left and right that diverge deeper into the concrete jungle. We're not really a good place for tourism: We keep our heads down, and get along with daily life. We don't have a royal family, but we have a government. Stupid twats, but better than nothing. I can still buy food, and walk outside without being stabbed (well... minus last night.) I decided the best way to go in would be when everyone else had turned up. After all, it was only 12:00. I wasn't in a rush. I didn't know where I was going, so I got out my phone, put my headphones in, and listened to whoever shuffle presented me with. Y body clearly knew what it wanted, and when I looked up from my artificial mind-killer, I was in front of The Grill. Instantly, I diverged from the front of the restaurant to the side, the alleyway, our almost gateway to hell. For some reason, I wanted to see whether the police had turned up, whether the place was taped off, whether I could see the face of our almost murderer. However, this wasn't the case. Taking a step in, I found nothing. Not a single trace of us or our knockout. The place was as plain as it was before. Huh. I kinda wanted something to happen. I could feel a sudden rush of adrenaline flood my veins as I walked in. Turning around, I decided I wanted to walk into the Grill. Maybe order a drink, take another moment with that Receptionist, work out how it is going. The standard. I was four step away from the end, four steps away from freedom, when I heard an outburst of coughing and a groan. Sounded like someone woke up from a junk binge. Probably a drink homeless man, or a sleeping worker who didn't want to be caught. You'd think my curiosity might've been crushed slightly after my dance with death yesterday, but no. Of course not. That would be too easy. Spinning around, I strolled back towards the dumpster. I knew that was where the sound came from. I mean, where else? After reaching it, I pondered my choice. The last time I was here, a dead corpse was here, and death was grinning at his sick joke. Whatever. It was a one time thing. I'm sure he's still laughing about it. Shaking all other thoughts out of my head, I decided to open it. I mean, I've faced the worst thing so far. Cracking it, and hearing a smooth click, the lid opened, and I managed to peer inside.
The receptionist was there. Curled up, terrified, and bloody. I mean she was covered. I'm surprised I couldn't hear it. She cowered and tried to scream as I opened the lid. Fear consumed her as I held my hands up. Holy shit. I shouted for help twice, and reached in to pick her up. I'd grabbed her by the body and the legs, and propped her next to the dumpster, against the wall. She was bleeding: a relentless, pouring fountain erupted out of her left thigh. A part of the body that, when ruptured, would cause a person to die a long, slow, painful death. I tried to stop it, but she took her hands off of her wound and slapped me, bloodying my face with her right hand. I stopped, and stared
"L-let me die. P-please" she whispered, as if pain was making her voice die with her.
"Who did this? Wh-what?" I started, but she silenced me with a string of coughing. It was so loud, so painful, that I felt it.
"It was... it was-" she fell to the floor, a sudden rush of something flew through the air and hit her square in the face, causing her to fall. Blood exploded out of one of her eyes, covering me. It was everywhere: my face, arms, skin. It was as if I'd bathed in it. She screamed, a long, echoing, dying scream that set every single one of my nerves on end. I was still stood still, in shock, trying to move to her. To help her. To heal her. To do anything I could. But, before I moved, before I tried to help, she just.... laughed. A long, high, echoing laugh that still racks around in my head, still plagues my thoughts. It was a horrible, marking, dying laughed that scraped her throat and bulged her eyes as she did it.
"The devil is a-a l-l-LIE!" She screamed "HE-HES R-R-RIG-IGHT HE-RE!" My trance broke. I realised where I was, what I was trying to do. Fuck. I approached her, and the madness left her eyes. It was as if she remembered what she wanted, who she was. Taking her arm, I looked into her eyes, and said "keep your eyes open. I mean it. Keep them open. I'll call an ambulance. I'll-" She stopped me.
"No ambulance." She whispered, speaking normally. "No police. Just- just let me die. Just let me die. Please.... please..." she repeated. I kneeled there, holding her hand, pleading her to keep her eyes open. It didn't work. She died, still saying please, still begging for death.
I found out what killed her.
A knife had lodged itself between her chest, it's pointed nose laughing at my attempt of saving her. Laughing at how I didn't notice it's flint as it rushed through the air. I stared at it for a good solid minute, making sure I wasn't seeing things, and as soon as I knew I wasn't, I broke. I snapped. I wept. Long, almost solid, salty tears traced their way down my face, leaving me alone. I still held her hand, and as I dropped it, it fell. It hit the floor, making a thud sound. I still hear it. Same way I hear her laughter and screaming. At that moment, I wondered 'why?' Why would you do this do a person? What could drive you to hurt a person in such a way? I would find out. I'd find out soon enough. The one thing I remember, completely clearly, was her eyes. The clear, crystal eyes. The eyes that stared into my soul, saw all of my last and future sins....
We're red. Red like the mask. Red like blood. Red like the fires that ran through my skin.