Page 9 of Lost in Life

Despite my vow, I have yet to find the man to enact my revenge. So in his stead, I take out my rage and pain on those marked for death by our society.

I pull up to the secluded cabin, really more of a shack, but I don’t need anything fancy. Climbing out of the car, I stride inside the small building and work on gathering my supplies. Even without details, I know that I’ll need certain items. My pistol, carving knife, rope, zip ties, gloves. A killer's kit, if you will.

As I’m cleaning my gun, a buzz comes from my pocket.

Fucking finally.

T

secure link

I click the link and wait for my phone to scan my retinas, allowing access to the files Tavish has put together.

Arnold Bostlin

Perusing the details, I make a quick plan before returning to my prep. Some of the agitation settling at the promise of an outlet.

Does it make me feel guilty for unleashing my inner beast on unsuspecting members of the population? No.

Should it? Maybe.

Not like I could give a fuck anyway. Those I’m sent after already have their days numbered, I’m simply the instrument the reaper uses to enact their deaths. And fuck if I don’t enjoy it.

“Oh yeah, baby, you like that?”

I sigh heavily, instantly regretting the decision to take this job. Before I can think too much into it, I throw the door open, reveling in the look of terror on the man’s face when he sees me.

“What the fuck?” Arnold shouts, frozen on his knees. His dick is nestled inside some girl who looks to be strung out.

I raise an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “Prostitutes, huh?” Crossing my arms, I lean back against the door frame.

Arnold bristles. Why he’s offended is ridiculous to me,he’sthe one that bought the whore.

Pushing off the door frame, I close the door, flicking the lock. With my back to the two, I pull out my pistol and screw on the silencer.

“The fuck are you doing?” Arnold snaps, his voice grating at my already frayed nerves. Slowly turning around, I meet his furious gaze with my own. The anger on his face drains along with the color in his cheeks, replaced by fear as his eyes land on the gun clasped in my hand. Raising his hands, he stammers, “Lo-look man, I don’t want no trouble.” As he releases his hold on the girl, she collapses onto the bed, eyes glassy. A small part of me feels bad knowing what I’ll need to do.

No witnesses.

There are few rules in our world. This being one of the most important. A witness can talk, and it only takes one domino falling to destroy the whole stack.

My eyes still locked on her, I raise the gun, pulling the trigger without a second thought. Arnold shrieks, ripping away from the now lifeless hooker. Clambering away, he falls off the bed, landing dick first on the floor.

His howls fill the room, no doubt alerting the other patrons, not that they’d care. The positive of hunting this sleazeball down to a dirty pay by the hour hotel is that everyone minds their own business. After all, what sounds like cries of agony could be coming from the throes of passion if done correctly.

Pushing away the desire that creeps up at the thought, I move to take care of Arnold. As I turn, my eyes lock on the dead girl. The blood pouring from her forehead fills my vision.

Blood. So much blood.

I blink, trying to bring myself back to reality. My eyes crack open and I find myself standing over Arnold’s mangled body. I raise my shaking hands, finding them now covered in blood.

What the fuck?

Lowering my hands back to my sides, I look at the corpse beneath me. What once was his face has been caved in, arms and legs bent at unnatural angles. His stomach has been sliced open, bloodied intestines hanging from the wound.

What just happened?

I’ve never blacked out before. Sure, I’ve gone a bit mad and a tad uncontrollable at times, but never fully lost time. Not like this.

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