Unstoppable

The Twenty-Second

God, that chicken was good.
Plates and bones littered the table like the wounded after a war. Callum and I laid back comfortably on our chairs, stomach full to the brim.
"God, I don't think I've ever eaten something as enjoyable." I sighed out as my life suddenly felt content. I was alive, well, fed, and watered.
What more could I want? Well, besides from not dying, me innocently killing two people, and those who have killed me still hunting me down, one of which is right opposite of me.
The utensils still laid about the place, one of which was a kitchen knife I'd used to half-cut-half-drag the meat off of the chicken. It kind of worked. My eyes started to programme my brain.
What if...? No, you couldn't. You wouldn't.
Settling back down, I noticed Callum had closed his eyes momentarily. He seemed to be in bliss alongside me.
This is one for the books. A murdered body enjoying a home-cooked meal with a murderer. No matter how normal he looks, Adam, he's still evil. He killed you, twice now. Once with that god awful bat, and the other time with closing the door. Head in the game, not in the clouds.
"I think I'm going to call it a night." I mumbled out, stepping up and clearing away the plates. Moving towards the bin, I started scraping the crap down there, letting it hit the bottom before continuing.
"You seem used to this... where are- Oh, yeah, never mind." Callum seemed to stop himself over something.
"What? What's up?" I asked him, moving to the final plate I had, and kept scraping,
"Your.. Parents. I was gonna ask where they were..," Callum stopped, and I could feel he was looking downwards. The tension became thicker in the room.
"Well, they aren't here, that's for sure." I said with a short, but sad laugh. Desperately trying to pick up the mood, I tried again.
"My mother and father were decent people. They were normal people, doing normal everyday things, and that's something you don't really find anymore. They cared for me and loved me like no other, but, in the end, it was their time to go. I suppose The Fates didn't fancy being kind to my parents anymore." I closed the lid on that conversation tightly, but Callum clearly wasn't getting it.
"How did they pass? Or have you told me before?" He questioned, still curious.
Hasn't he heard? Curiosity killed the cat... But satisfaction brought it back.
"Car crash." I bluntly spat out, moving the plates to wash in the morning. Callum sighed openly, and I felt his presence shift. Moving to follow him, I could see that he'd moved into the front room. He then took a seat, and put his head in his hands, clearly troubled by something.
Did he really just become upset over what I'd said? Maybe I just don't feel. Maybe I'm just useless. Hmm, that's something to worry about.
"You realise your going to be caged and die soon, right?" Callum turned his head towards me, even if it was still lowered dejectedly.
"I can't die." I replied bluntly, sick of the word already.
"No, but The Boss can make you feel like your dead. He could put you through this black goo for centuries. The more limbs that are popped off, the longer it takes your body to rebuild from scratch." Callum explained.
Well, that confirms it. I'm not the first person to exist like this. Maybe, there's more like me? Maybe there's so much more than me?
"Well... I guess I'll just have to avoid getting sliced up or beaten." I said, trying to change the subject. I didn't like where it was going.
Speaking of beating...
"How's Liam?" The name brought bitterness to my tongue as I said it, giving me a flashback to the scene.
So much blood, out of one small body.
"You killed him." Callum's voice flatlined as he said this. I felt as if I heard it wrong. I felt as if I had definitely heard it wrong.
"W-w-What?" I stammered out, afraid.
"He's dead. You beat him to death. He died in extreme pain and anguish, begging to be killed as soon as possible. Do you know how hard it was to snap his neck when all he did was writhe?" Callum filled me in quickly: After I ran away and he couldn't find me, (I did apologise) Callum ran back to Liam, who was still dying, and took him to a separate room, promising to call an ambulance.
"Did people not think that was fishy?" I asked him, rudely interrupting. He didn't seem to care, so that's a plus.
"No, to be honest. I think the only reason they were actually there is because there was blood and a chance of dying. When I took him away, a few people booed. Our generation is fucked." Callum finished
"Right, do go on" I said, allowing him to resume:
He took me to Nusanda's old room, where no one would be. He then looked Liam in the eyes, breathed in deeply, and asked Liam if he wanted his neck snapped.
"His entire body was bruised, bleeding, and bones stuck out. It was the most loving thing I could've done in that situation." Callum defended himself with. I simply shrugged and waited for him to go on:
Liam nodded a few times, and Callum did the deed, slitting his throat with a knife to make sure the deed was done. He then gently used the tip to close it up, moved to the cellar I was kept in, and turned on the incinerator.
"Incinerator? Wait, you mean to tell me that I actually could've heated myself up?" I said, still pissed off at the fact I was held down there.
"Yeah, I suppose..." Callum didn't want to waste any more time, so I let him continue:
He incinerated the knife, then called an ambulance. They arrived, took him away, and called his parents. When he was announced dead, his parents demanded to know what happened.
"Simply put, he got into a fight he couldn't win. He'd been a bully for years, he got what was coming to him in my opinion." I said, feeling almost no remorse.
"Well, your no better than him then." Callum said, standing up and heading upstairs. Following, I called to him.
"What are you then?"
I felt him turn, his eyes sharpen, and his tone change.
"No better than you."
And that was all I got for the rest of the night.