Loyalty and Betrayal

Interlude to Death.

It was late at night and he was running.

His time was running out and he knew it. Every lost second was a life and death threatening. 

He wasn't a religious man, but now he was praying, simply and desperately.

People began crowding into the streets. Strangers passed by him as ghosts who drifted through the night like shadows, blocking his passage. The annoying glow of the neon streetlights illuminated the dark buildings around him. 

It was so goddamn cold...

Wei Wuxian was half blind with fear and a stupid headache was starting to build behind his temple. His heart began to thud against his ribs. Cold sweat was running down his neck and the pain in his chest, was simply brutal. Yet, he kept running, despite of it.

He shouted something. He couldn't really understand what he was saying, blood was rushing in his eyes, a shrill noise in his ear, and his heart was beating too loud to abide. The only thing in his mind was the little child in yellow clothes, being carried through a disorganized horde of people in front of him.

He ran as fast as he could. Adrenaline was the only thing guiding him. 

Desperate steps, sharp breath, burning lungs, everything was a mess. 

This could be his last chance, so he kept going, falling, scrambling up and running again. Slamming into random people and shouting incomprehensible words at them, focusing only on the two bodies ahead of him.

The man holding the child entered a nightclub in an attempt to mislead him. 

His gun was in his hand when he hit the door with his shoulder, badge hanging on his wrist.

He quickly made his way through the mess and smoke. People fell around him, heaping in fear of the weapon in his hand. Bottles were smashed on the floor, tables were turning, and suddenly, the ground turned into a sea of shattered glass and cheap liquor.

Blood spurted from his nose and he almost choked on his own blood as he jumped over one of the tables. He could smell the metallic scent of it, dripping from the wound in his chest and from the corners of his mouth. 

The man in front of him, who fell into a dead-end, with nowhere to run, was cornered between the tables and the club counter.

He raised a small hunting knife to the boy's throat, the same knife he'd used to stab him a few minutes earlier.

He heard the child shout his name and time seemed to stop. 

Too terrified to move, he stopped, his fingers brushing the warm metal of the gun. He could see the fear on the boy's face, his small almond-shaped eyes glinting with tears. In a desperate move, he pointed the gun, pressing the trigger until he heard the...

Click.

 ──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

He snapped his eyes open.

There were no sleepy mists in them now. They were pure and hard serendibite. 

The bedroom was completely dark around him, an annoying noise was pounding inside his ears, just like last time.

He quickly sat on the bed, a thin bead of sweat dripped down his neck. The scenes still seemed to be going in slow-motion inside his head. He was shuddering, clammy with wet hair stuck to his face and tears in his eyes.

Nightmares surely were always more frightening in the dark.

He slowly got up and went to the bathroom.