Three Eleven Thirteen

Chapter Thirty-Three

I apologize that it is short, but a longer one will be up tomorrow, my day is busy today.

This book will remain my focus for the next few days.

Chapter Thirty-Three

If Ellie is afraid, he doesn't show it. I'm unsure if I've ever seen him scared before, but nonetheless, he is still where I am shaking, my heart is pounding, and I keep telling myself not to pass out.  

Ellie is standing in front of me, shielding me from Marley, I'm unsure how to go about this situation. Clearly Marley is unstable, but just how unstable is he? Would he really shoot us? Or is it all a bluff to get us to do what he wants?

I don't want to find out.

"Both of you, get back to the table and sit down." Marely orders, and I decide it's wise to listen to him. I grab Ellie's arm to go, but he does not move.

"Ellie." I pull his arm, but he ignores me. His body is tense, and I see the grey in his veins, but they never turn black. Why do they not turn black now of all circumstances?

Marley's gun is trained on him now, "You better move, son."

"Come on." I urge him, but he's glaring at Marley with a hatred I've never seen before on his face. I'm scared that he'll get shot, I don't know if he could withstand a bullet or not, I don't know what his body can take, but I know that if his body is even slightly as fragile as a regular human body, then he could get seriously injured.

He could die.

My nails are gripping into his arm now, and Marley begins to yell, "I said fucking move!" He's going to shoot us. If Ellie does not do what he's told we are both going to die.

I step in front of Ellie hoping it would remind him that we are not in position to be defying orders, I try once more to move him forward, but stop when Marley grabs hold of my hair, pulling me beside him.

I gasp at the sudden pain, and I see Ellie staring at me, his eyes slowly bleed black, and I know that somebody is going to die today, but I don't know who.

I want to tell Ellie not to fight, that he could get hurt, but I don't get the chance.

In seconds, Ellie lunges, attacking Marley to the floor. As they both fell, Marley lets go of me, and I stumble to my knees. I hear Marley shouting curse after curse, and before I could even get up to help Ellie, a loud bang erupts in my ears, and just like that time slows. My head whips to the both of them, I forget to breathe when I see the floor begin to get tainted in blood.

But the blood, to my horror, is not red.

Marley pushes Ellie off of him, and I see Ellie's hands are crimson red from clawing into Marley's skin. My eyes trail to his torso, where black is all I see.

He's been shot. Ellie has been shot, my Ellie.

He's not moving as he lays on his side, blood dripping down his lips. I hear screaming, and I realize it is me as I try to move over to him, but Marley grabs me again, his clothes covered in Ellie's blood and his own. He yells at me but I do not hear him as he forces me to my feet, and pulls me down the long hallway in the back of the house. I struggle in his grasp, but he latches onto me like a chain, and I'm thrown into a back bedroom, where he slams the door, and locks me inside.

I pound on the door, begging for him to let me see Ellie, but I get no response, and he never brings Ellie in. I eventually give up shouting when my throat hurts, and my fists are bruised from hitting the door. I sit back against the wall, exhausted, and angry that I didn't listen to Ellie. I never listen to him, this is my fault.

Tears fall down my cheeks and I stare at the wall and try not to think. It happened so quickly, one moment he was shielding me, and the next he was lying hunched over on the floor covered in his own blood, and I know that that image will forever be etched in my mind.

The boy my father had made had been put down so easily, all these months that I spent barely any time apart from, had been taken from me in only a few seconds.

I think of all the nights my father stayed up working on him. I remember bringing food down to my father when he wouldn't come out from the lab for days. The first time Ellie and I met, the wonder in his eyes as I spoke to him.

He was my father's pride and joy, he was the one thing I was supposed to take care of and I failed. I failed my father, and I failed Ellie.

He wasn't supposed to die so quickly. Ellie was made to endure stuff like bullet wounds. He was made to adapt, and be better.

Why did he not get better?

I want to see him. I want to hold his body, I want to kiss him, but there is nothing I can do. What is Marley doing with his body right now? Has he moved him somewhere hidden? Is he still bleeding out on the floor like an abused animal?

I'm breathing, but I don't feel like it is enough. I'm hyperventilating and I feel sick. I clutch my hands to my head and force myself to be still. I take several deep breaths, and slowly, I calm.

Crying will not help me here.

I study my surroundings. The little room had a bed, a pile of shoes against the wall, all of them worn and caked with mud. There were no windows, and no way to get out other than through the door.

I slowly stood up and walked over to the bed. I searched all around it, hoping I'd find something, anything, that could help me. There was nothing under the bed, nothing behind it.

I think of how many people could have been locked in this room, searching it from top to bottom like I am.

When I finish looking and conclude that there is absolutely nothing to help me. The shoes even missing their laces, as if Marley purposely weapon-proofed this room.

I lean back against the wall and pull my knees up against my chest. There's nothing for me to do but wait, and so that is what I do.