And Then There Was One (2019)

Chapter 8 - Jonathan Drouin

Montreal, Canada

July 1, 2019

A small kindled flame flickers in a dark room. Lightning flashes outside a small square window and illuminates a figure inside, sitting at a table. Rain pelts the window and the wind whirls creepily in the darkening evening skies.

"Dear Vladdy Namestnikov, I hate you, miserable, pathetic slut."

More lightning flashes in a trio, lighting up the signature wicked face of Jonathan Drouin. The small flame burns and intensifies on the candle, sitting just to the top corner of a piece of paper. Wax drips down and onto the table and paper.

"No, no, no, think Jonathan Drouin!" He snatches up the paper and crumbles it up in his hands, tossing it into a wastebasket. "It's gotta sound delightfully loathsome." He runs his hand through his messy, long mullet-style hair.

A rumble of thunder and the sound of a branch snapping off a tree outside draw his attention.

"That whore ass princess shall soon realize I loathe his stupid femininely queer guts! I hope he gets concussed on this ice!" He breaks out in evil cackling laughter that fills the dark room, duetting with the rumbling thunder outside.

Then an idea hits him as a loud boom of thunder echoes a bright flash of light! His dark eyes glimmer with the thought and he scribbles down:

"Dear Vladdy Namestnikov,

How do you sleep at night? Do you sit down and think of the things you do and did? Words can't even explain how much you've hurt me. I regret EVER being with you. When we first met I wasn't really interested in you because you were so clingy and whatever and when I did finally accept you, things changed. It's like the person I fell in love with was never the same person now. It only proves to me that many people in this world are fake and they wear sheep clothing when they really are wolves.

Truth to be told, I could go many days without talking to you. Your skinny, sickly thin body will never cross my mind again. I hope one day you really grow up if you even make it living much long, Damsel Princess. Sometimes apologizing for the wrongings you did to me and manning up would have been nice, you man whore slut hooker of pathetic testosterone. You're a waste of life and I wish I never met you!

I'm not the right man for you nor will I be. Nor will anyone. They're just lying and being nice if they do. I do NOT wish you all the best in your life, I hate you as much as I should. I LOATHE YOU. Fuck off and die, you fourth line queer!

Thanks to you I don't believe in love anymore. Nor happily ever afters. I do know what goes around comes around and when you fall in love with a man or boy or whatever blind bat you manage to ensnare, I hope they hurt you deeply and make you suffer. You disgusting New York Ranger.

Fuck you forever,

Jonathan Bryan Drouin"

"Perfect!" Jo exclaims, snatching the paper up and kissing it. He proceeds to grab an envelope, stamp it with the address and the return address.

Then he shoves himself back from the table and, gleefully, snickering to himself for his brilliance, he heads for the door.

The rain is still battering the house as he snatches a jacket from a hat rack to the side of the front door. He tucks the letter into his front pocket to protect it and grabs an umbrella. He unlocks the marble door, throws it open and steps out onto the porch.

The rain is coming in sideways, but he is sheltered enough from the rainwater that nothing hits him. He opens the umbrella as the wind whips across the front, threatening to drag him with it.

"Like a fucking monsoon out of here! But I must get this letter out! He has to know I hate his pitiful guts!"

Jo gains control of the umbrella and walks down the porch and out to the mailbox. As he does, the wind magically dies down and the rain gradually recedes. He makes it to the mailbox in a manner of seconds, throwing open the lid for it. He smirks excitedly and prepares to thrust the letter envelope into it.

However, he halts, seeing another envelope inside. He snatches out this piece of mail from the interior, puts Vladdy's note in and then slams the lid shut. He holds the envelope in his hand, eyeing it.

"Probably junk mail and some scammy shit from Princess Ranger!" He spins and yells out to no one, but the street, "ENJOY YOUR NEWEST HATE LETTER, YOU NEW YORK BITCH!"

He then spins on his heels as thunder rumbles around him. He heads back up to his house, carelessly tossing the envelope into the wet grassy lawn to his right side. He then skips up the steps, smugly grinning to himself.

As he gets back under the roof of his porch, he lowers the umbrella and begins to shake the water off, paying no attention to his surroundings.

As soon as he lets go of the umbrella's handle, two people in disguise jump at him. Jo swings out at them, trying to get himself free, but they easily overpower the Montreal player. Eventually slamming him into the wall of the exterior of his house.

"You working for Namestnikov, huh?!" Jo spits out.

"No. But where you're going, you'll have no choice but to mingle with Mr. Namestnikov. Thinking it'll be a fun re-bonding moment for you both."

"I'll kidnap myself, thank you! I'm not sinking down to that queer New York Ranger princess's level!" Jo snaps, kicking back at the men.

"Clock him!"

A blunt object is struck across the back of Jo's head and his vision blurs at once, before he blacks out and slumps against the wall.

"Too bad, Drouin, you tossed away the invitation to the fun. Now, you'll be forced to come along!" one of the men sneers as the other gets a grip on Jo's limp body and hauls him up and over his shoulder.