DEPRIVED || GUZMA

8|| Our grave

Guzma

Hours upon hours I laid there, staring into the white abyss in front of me. My eyes never left the ceiling as the wall started making shapes I couldn't make out. I was at her house again. The one I met naked in bed. I chuckled dryly, damn what a coincidence I guess. After what happened at the mall with [Y/N] she just let me in like we were great friends. I literally banged her when she was drunk, or was she? Was I drunk and she banged me without me knowing or is it the other way around? Okay, this is fucking with my head.

I shifted to the side and laced my cloudy eyes into the silver Glock intertwined with my dry hands. I rubbed the handle gently and exhaled. Days on months stacked on years this simple weapon screamed for my attention. People would say it was my only friend, and to be honest their totally right. Although scanning this cold object scared me, I could taste the copper trace my parched mouth, makes my throat feel stuffed with fake bullets. I sat up making the bed squeak under my weight and pushed the handgun against my chapped lips. The past I went through started to rush through my burning itchy lids. That pain, undying feeling of loneliness hit my gut like a gentle torpedo trying to break my walls and create a necessary explosion. That's exactly what I wanted. I counted, pressing the gun harder against my head.

Three. . .

Two. . .

One. . . .

I counted to five, till thirty and now I waited until I was ready. But, I wasn't ready. I heaved frustrated and scrunched my face and went over the fact I'm a failure and this is the only damn thing to end this shit fest of a rollercoaster.

"Fucking Arceus, what's stopping ya'?" I snapped at myself. It was going to be quick, I knew that, but at the same time, it felt like I was going to take longer than I really wanted. I could be delusional but at the same time though I kept thinking about the bullet passing through my skull and it sent shivers down my spine. Sometimes I just don't have the balls to blow my own fucking brains out.

"Where are you going?" I put on my worn out the jacket and looked into her brown eyes. Her grassy hair was twirled into a low bun and was becoming loose. "I'm going out for a while," I said and passed her opening the front door. "Will you come back?" She asked. I slowly looked at her and closed the door behind me. "Probably not," I confessed.

It was dark as charcoal outside. The only source of white was the great moon and it made enough light for a lone soul like me to travel this black path. I gazed at the dirt almost dazed, living in my own little world that I've created over the years. Those restless nights I used to have made me hallucinate lucid dreams and I could never tell if it was real or not. I've always guessed I just dreamt them because this life ain't no fairy tale. It never was, many people believed they lived in one. It just isn't reality, every story isn't happy-go-lucky as every single human believes. Life wasn't created that way, it's supposed to tell you a lesson which is pretty ironic cose like what the hell did I do to deserve this life huh? Hell if I know, but it sure shitted on my mentality. Makes me laugh sometimes, almost cry because of it. Yep, and it sure did deprive me of emotions too.

I took a turn and I was now on a familiar path. Why was I on this particular path? I couldn't muster up an answer as my feet continued down the dirt road. For some reason something was telling me to walk down here, I just can't place it in words. Like something bad was going to happen.

*CRACK*

My breath shot up inside my throat and I ran. My shoes were so quick it almost felt like I was floating on air. So quick I didn't even realize I was already there. The door was wide open and I was heaving. It seriously smelled like gunpowder in here, and that made my heart take leaps it never did before. "[Y/N]!!" I screamed out. I walked inside and this cold environment traveled through my bones like a skinless snake. Beside me, there was a man in a black trenchcoat and aged like crazy. Scars chased around his face like it was placed there purposely. Wings of blood trailed the wall behind him giving the effect of an angels death. Who the hell was this guy? My heart was beating like crazy I swear it was about to jump out of my ribcage. In front of me, there was a trail of blood that sneaked behind the kitchens table. I slowly followed it not wanting to know what it came from, but I already had a hunch and it horrified me. My hand shakily placed itself against the edge of the corner and my eyes tried to register the woman in front of me not hunched over and crimson spilling from her abdomen and agape mouth. "[Y/N]?!" I bend down to her position and checked her pulse. It was there, but very faint. Her eyes were red and puffy like she was crying for hours until she got shot in the stomach. I pawed through my pockets only to find out I don't have a phone on me. I cursed under my breath and looked around for a sign for a phone. Jumping into her room I found her sad outdated phone on the dresser and I snatched it dialing the hospital's number.

Minutes later the sound of sirens deafened my ears. Two men in tight blue suits escorted me out. One of them walked back inside and called out for one of his coworkers to help him. The called male grabbed a bag, and a long pole with a bag filled with. . . water? Actually, what the hell was that thing?

"What's your name, sir?" I gasped for breath and gazed into his eyes.

"I. . .It's Guzma." His eyes became wide slightly and coughed. He continued on with more questions, and he literally couldn't stop because he said it was "mandatory". What does that even mean? "What about the male in the black trenchcoat? Do you know him?" I sighed and cuffed my hands behind my head staring into the white moon. "The only thing I know about him is, he dead."  He wrought down something and smiled at me. "Now I need to call the authority so they can confiscate the man's body. I think you should be on your way home now since this will now be a crime scene. Thank you for your time." I furrowed my black brows and glared at him. "I ain't going nowhere." I barked at him. "Sir, please don't make this harder than it already is. Your girlfriend is in good hands, okay?" I stuffed my hands in the oversized jacket I wore and grumbled. "Yeah whatever, and she ain't my girlfriend! Shes barely even my damn friend."

I walked back to her house and tossed my jacket on the floor and tussled my hair.

"Ah, you're back." I looked into her tired eyes and smiled slowly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

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Now you know why I chose this path. I want hella angst and this is a great way to go!

Right now nothing is really happening but I swear some Gucci stuff will start appearing. I don't want my readers to feel left out now, do I?

Y'all came for Guzma and you're gonna get him!

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Author out!!!