The Games We Play | ✓

8. OWEN WANTED TO PLAY HERO

08.
[OWEN WANTED TO PLAY HERO]

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OWEN MCDANIEL LIVED life by a strict moral code. He was diligent, honorable, and righteous. But it was this exact moral code that landed him in a place where morality did not exist.

Owen was on his way to pick up his daughter's birthday cake when he heard a shrill cry from the corner. If he had simply dismissed it, perhaps his daughter would happily be in his arms right now, blowing out the candles of the SpongeBob cake he had ordered. But he didn't. Instead, he found himself caught in the middle of a gruesome murder of a poor pizza delivery guy.

His moral code prevented him from turning a blind eye. He did what he thought was the right thing – interfere.

"Stop!" Owen yelled, grabbing his gun. "Stop where you are!"

Charlotte's murderous eyes met the gaze of this dutiful father and nearly laughed. She pulled the knife out of the victim's stomach and smiled, "Hello there."

"Stay right where you are, you psycho," he said harshly, although the fear was evident in his eyes.

"I don't really care for that tone," Charlotte snarled. She had never been one to take demands from people.

"Yeah?" he said bravely. "Well I'm the one with the gun, so you better fucking listen."

Charlotte clenched her jaw. Her grip on the knife was so tight, her knuckles turned white.

"Not another step," Owen said, his voice shaking. "Drop the knife."

Charlotte's eyes burned with an intensity that was almost inhumane. "I'll fucking kill you," she growled with every intention of fulfilling her promise, but she dropped the knife to the floor and rose her hands up in temporary surrender.

"What's going on?" a familiar voice interrupted, breathless as it rushed to Owen's side.

"Oh, thank god," Owen breathed. "Look man, I saw her kill that guy with my own eyes. I-I got her cornered. Just call the cops."

The newcomer turned to face Charlotte, his familiar eyes glistening under the streetlights.

Reed's voice shook with convincing fear, "She killed him?"

Owen's entire body trembled, his hold on the gun tight and fearful. He nervously wiped the sweat from his forehead, "Yeah, call the cops!" He didn't dare let his grip falter, for the look on the murderer was so demonic, he felt like he had seen hell.

Reed fumbled desperately in his pockets for his phone, "Fuck fuck fuck, it's out of battery." He paced, his eyes trained on Owen's gun. "Just shoot her, man!"

Charlotte's lips lifted into a sneer.

"I-I can't!" Owen stuttered. "I'm not a killer!" He had bought the gun for a false sense of security after his house was robbed last year. He never dared to use it, and even right then, as he held that much power and protection in his hands, it only felt like it was weighing him down.

"Right," Reed panicked. "Here, hand me the gun. You call the cops. I'll keep her where she is."

Owen nodded feverishly, his entire body completely drenched with sweat. It was pathetic, really. Why try to play hero when you clearly weren't cut out for the role?

Oblivious, he handed the gun to Reed, who took it and pointed it at Charlotte. He watched her from behind the deadly weapon, his eyes completely void and empty.

Unlike Owen, thieves like them didn't have codes. As far as the world knew, they were strangers. Reed could've easily killed her, like he had threatened to countless of times. He could've made himself the hero of the story. To people like them, betrayal was expected. It was all about survival, and Reed certainly didn't need Charlotte to survive.

Killers like them were selfish. They saved themselves first before they even thought of saving others.

But just as Owen was about to dial, Reed smiled and blinked away from Charlotte. "Oh shit, I forgot," he chuckled. "You may not be a killer, but I am."

With a swift shift of his aim, he shot Owen right in the chest, and watched the body slump to the floor.

Charlotte sighed as she dropped her arms, "You think you're funny, don't you?" She bent down to pick up her knife, the anger within her still raging.

"What an odd way to say thank you," Reed pouted, carefully pocketing the gun. He watched her with amusement as she approached him.

"Thank you? I could've handled it myself," she scoffed.

"I beg to differ – "

"We both know he wouldn't have shot me," she said. "He was a coward with a gun he couldn't use. I could've gutted him with his own hands." She wished she could've strangled the idiot that dared to threaten her. 

She breezed past Reed, her mood brightening as she watched the small river of Owen's blood. It was a shame she wasn't the one to drain it.

Reed hummed lightly. Something about blood and death made him extremely friendly. He gripped her arm and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Did you like the show I put on for you?" he murmured. "I used your tactic. Play a character. Gain their trust. Stomp on it."

"Was that supposed to be a romantic apology?" she peered up at him, her eyes twinkling.

He grinned and kissed her again. Under the twisted moonlight and bloodied streets, it was just them against the world.

"Consider it...a debt," he said, his breath fanning against her face. "You owe me a life."

Just like that, lust turned sour. In a swift move, Charlotte pulled out her knife and pointed it at his throat. Reed's expression didn't falter for even a second as she backed him into the wall.

She held the knife mere centimeters away from his tainted skin. "Honey, let's make something clear," she said with the same sickly sweet smile. "I don't owe you any more than you owe me. I could kill you right now. Or perhaps tonight in your sleep. Or maybe even when you're busy fucking me. I don't owe you shit. Don't get too comfortable, because I could kill you any time I fucking wanted to."

She released him but continued to hold him with her deadly gaze.

"I'm just as dangerous as you, if not more."