Exit Wounds by Solomon Blaze

The sky is so beautiful.

The sun is bright; hot on my face.

The grass is green; the refreshing scent of morning dew in the crisp, clean air.

:

:

:

- SMACK!

Derik - dark hair, caramel skin, bourbon eyes, blood soaked features - jolts awake with a horrifying shock, tied to a wooden chair and surrounded by the smell of rot and death, ‘What the fu-‘

- SMACK!!

Darkness and spots, Christ, what the fuck is going on, where the fuck am I?!

Derik’s eyes open themselves cautiously, with fear-filled anticipation and looks into the eye of the gun holding him hostage. The gun lowers it’s gaze, revealing the one person Derik had expected – and hoped not – to see: Jason.

Oh fucking hell…

‘J-Jason…I’msosorryJasonpleasedon’tdothis, I’M SORR-‘

Jason - dark hair, crooked nose, cold, colourless eyes - cocks the gun, ‘Shut, the fuck, up, Derik.’ He says in a nervously disgusted way.

‘Jason, pleas-‘

‘SHUT UUUUP!!!’ Screams Jason as he tries to shove the killer into Derik’s soul.

Derik cries.

Derik is hysterical; snot pouring out of his nose, tears streaming.

Derik gets a hard punch round the temple that makes his whole body ring with pain.

Derik groans. ‘Why?’ he whimpers like a dying dog.

Jason scoffs his laughter, ‘why?! Are you seriously fucking asking me why? WHY DO YOU FUCKIN’ THINK?!’

‘…it’s her right…?’

Another punch, this time in the stomach.

…gasping for breath Derik coughs up blood and feels true terror – taking this opportunity to scan his surroundings; it’s an abandoned asylum – the ‘Kraken Asylum for the Clinically Insane’ to be exact; I’m going to die here, aren’t I…here, really…?

The asylum is covered in rust, dirt, blood, graffiti and god only knows how many bodily fluids, dried and stained over the many years of empty isolation. The walls are a horrible grey – or would be if not for the tapestry of disease that makes up the decoration, there’s a dripping coming from somewhere behind Jason, meat hooks hang from the ceiling, swinging tauntingly with the draft that seems to whisper, ‘run…’

The sobbing starts.

Jason’s fuse blows. ‘I WILL SHOOT YOU IN THE HEAD IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP!’

Warmth spreads across the inside of his jeans; he’s shit and pissed himself, Oh God…

‘Jay, you have to believe me,’ chokes Derik in desperation, ‘I never laid a finger on her, I w-‘

‘And I’m supposed to just believe you?!’ barks Jason in frenzied outrage – he feels nausea to the point of vomiting…

Jason Vomits. All over Derik’s lap, leaning on his knees for support.

– BANG!!

The gun accidentally fires, causing both men to throw themselves instinctively away from the blast; Jason skidding on his back, the sting of rusty grit tearing its way through his jacket and skin. Derik has flung himself backwards, cracking the back of his head on the decrepit concrete floor.

A small cloud of dust has gathered around Derik. Jason is no stranger to the man’s sickening skills; with the gun still in his hands, he moves to kill a man he once loved, because of a woman he once loved.

Stepping over the helpless Derik, who writhes in pathetic agony, Jason cocks the gun, loading another bullet into the canon he carries, sticks the thing back where it belongs.

Derik stares into Jason’s eyes, those cold, condemning eyes, and feels his own pain reflected back at him, I did this…I deserve this…, he lies to himself.

‘Any last words, you backstabbing piece of shit cunt?’ Jason says definitively.

Derik tries to look through the rage and suffering; through to the soul of a man whom was once such a sweet boy, and says, ‘I’m g-‘

- BANG!!!

But there is no sweet boy; there is nothing anymore, nothing of a life that did so little to cause so much chaos, just blood; blood and loss...

...Jason’s breathing is shallow and rapid, as he starts to realize exactly what he’s done, ‘what?!’ he shouts to the faceless mess beneath his stature...but there is no answer, there never will be again.

‘What?! WHAT?! WHAT WERE YOU GONNA’ SAY?!?’

Derik’s skull has been blown away by the force of a Dessert Eagle, stolen from a father by a grief crazed son.

Jason cries.

‘I didn’t mean for this...’ he spits through flooded orifices, ‘I just...I...’

Jason wails, then vomits all over the decimated remains of a life long forgotten, that he now cradles in his arms like a still born baby;

Sobbing;

Whimpering;

Dying............................................................