Neil chuckled.
“Trust me, there are no atheists on Akira’s blacklist,” he said with a shrug. “Might as well respect all religions. No guarantee where you’ll end up once he’s through with you.”
Asshole had a point.
——-
The room was dimly lit. The two men in it sat at an old table, near a window that was covered by wooden planks.
“I want to expand my territory,” one of the two, a Mexican man with a narrow face and merciless eyes, said bluntly. The other man was Asian. While the Mexican man was dressed in dirty clothes, the Asian man could have easily been on his way to a conference. He smiled faintly.
“And why would I allow that?” he asked softly. There was no trace of an accent in his voice.
“I don’t know, I think you could use a… vacation,” his conversational partner said, not even trying to hide the threatening tone in his voice. The Asian man’s smile broadened.
“You’re too kind, Sanchez. But I love my work. I genuinely do.” He leant forward a little. “I hope you weren’t planning on trying anything. I haven’t had a lot of fun lately and could really use some.”
Sanchez scoffed.
“You sick cunt, you,” he said. Akira chuckled.
“Clever comeback. I’m willing to let you make money here, but I want a fair share of it. Make it worth my while and we’ll talk.”
“I think I’m done talking,” Sanchez said coolly. Akira got up and straightened his jacket.
“Sad to hear that.”
He left the room. Outside two men were waiting, their faces apprehensive.
“Take him to the cellar. He needs to learn some manners,” Akira said with a shrug. “But do tell him that I won’t have time for him until tomorrow. I have a business to run.”
————-
“Do you think you can handle that, Neil?” Akira asked, sounding almost bored. Neil nodded,keeping his eyes on the floor.
“Yessir,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me, come again?”
“Yes sir,” Neil repeated, looking up. Akira came closer. He took the gun off of the table and put it against the underside of Neil’s chin. The young man felt his heart race. This was it. This was the end.
Akira lifted Neil’s chin.
“Look at me, Neil.” Neil looked at him, prepared to say or do anything to keep himself off of the man’s radar.
“What is it, sir?” he asked. He hardly even noticed the tremor in his own voice. The cold metal pressed against his skin was all he could think of.
“Don’t disappoint me. You know what happens to people that disappoint me. You try to run from me again, and I’ll have you wish you were never born, are we clear?”
“Yes sir.”
———
“Do we have to travel with a vampire?” Eriseya asked softly, not sure wether or not she could trust Serana, who was in one of the others rooms, cooking. Serion’s face went serious again and he frowned.
“Don’t make me choose Eri. I’ve been on my own for ages and after you she was the first one to care,” his voice seemed to crack and he looked away. Eriseya didn’t know what to say and she cast her eyes down.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were still- I should have looked for you..”
“No, you had your own troubles. If you’re to blame for that, then I am no better for not having searched for you either.”
——-
For a moment, he just sat. Hands on the cool leather of the steering wheel, eyes staring ahead without seeing anything in particular. He could have looked like any other young man getting ready to drive off, had it not been for the whiteness of his knuckles. Had it not been for his clenched jaw and the slow, deep breaths he was taking to keep himself under control.
For a moment he closed his eyes. And then he hit the gas. The old, dented black car gently rolled off of the porch and onto the wet streets. By now, his vision was a little bit blurred, and he ran the back of his hand across his eyes. Now was not the time, although he wasn’t sure there ever was a time. Admitting emotions could be a scary thing. Especially if those emotions were big, looming and it felt like they could just swallow you whole.
He stopped at a traffic light, faintly registering the barking of a dog and the yelling of a child, before driving on, away from the town’s centre.
His hands still gripped the wheel as if it was a branch of wood, keeping him afloat.
Suburbs turned into fields and fields turned into a thick, dark forest, on both sides of the almost empty road. Evening was starting to fall, but he had no plans on stopping anytime soon.
In the dense evening traffic, he had been distracted by the things around him, but now that he was out of town and the only one on the road, the hole in his gut was back and he felt a little sick.
He didn’t know where he was going, if he was even going anywhere.
Tree after tree after tree passed in the glow of his headlights and the monotony of it all was almost calming. Almost.
And he knew he was running. He knew he was fleeing. And the worst of it all was that he was fully aware that he was fleeing from himself. From the person he did not want to be, not anymore. Hell, did he even want to be anyone at this point? He did not dare answer that question. He could not own up to it.
“This too shall pass,” he mumbled, ever so softly. He’d read that somewhere. He didn’t know who came up with it, or why, but he hoped that if he kept telling himself that, it might just become true.
“This too. Shall pass,” he repeated, a little more clearly now. But would it? Would these clouds ever disappear? They hung ever so thick above him, darkening everything, threatening him constantly.
He gritted his teeth and sped up when a sign let him know he could go faster here. He turned on his car radio, but almost immediately turned it off again. He though sound would help, but it did not. It was an intruder in a silence he did not know what to do with.
On the backseat, his phone buzzed softly yet persistently. Briefly he considered pulling over and answering. But he did not. Even though he knew it would have been better that way. He could not.
The forest thinned. Trees made way for fields again and in the distance the lights of another city blinked. But that was not where he would stop. It was too close. Too close to where he came from. No distance in the world would cure the unrest that had taken hold of him, but at least a good distance would reduce the chance of running into anyone familiar.
For he did not wish to see pity on their faces. Nor resentment. Neither he could bear.
And so he drove, and drove. He drove until the night sky was covered in countless stars. He drove until his eyelids were heavy and he was too tired to feel. He drove until his tank threatened to run out of fuel. He drove until steering into an abyss did not seem like such a bad idea, though he knew he was too much of a coward to ever really do that.
Eventually he pulled over on the side of a muddy road, almost nothing more than a sand track. He got out of the driver’s seat and into the backseat. He took his phone and hesitated, but then he tossed it onto the passenger’s seat. He was running still, even without moving his legs.
He laid down on the creaking leather, with his coat as his blanket but the sleep refused to come. Memories resurfaced. Scenes that would be etched on his mind forever, no matter how hard he ran. He swallowed and pressed his eyes shut as if that would chase it all away.
And then emotion washed over him, as if it were a tidal wave that had been laying in waiting. He clenched his wrists. The muscles in his abdomen tightened involuntarily. But even a physical reaction did not make it more bearable. He felt crushed by the sheer misery that encompassed him and that made him want to disappear off of the face of earth.
“This too… will pass,” he whispered hoarsely, but the words had become hollow. Nothing but a useless mantra to keep the feelings at bay. It would not pass. It would be a part of him. And he would either learn to live with it, or find a way to die with it.
