It's up to Me to Make You Bleed

The chill of the morning air encouraged me to tug the jacket closer to me. I took one last glance at the house from hell and got into Brent’s car. The ride was quiet…none of us had gotten sleep, and well, those two just kind of got slapped in the face by cruel reality. Brent’s brother and Zacky’s best friends were now officially crazy. I’d be at a loss for words as well if I was in their position. Plus, I don’t think they could really handle the extent of what happened during this past week.

I gripped the small piece of paper in between my fingers as I kept my eyes cast downward. I can’t believe this is really all I have left now – that I’d have to depend on the initial reason for all this misery. Brent’s car came to a halt outside of a modern looking apartment building.

“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” Zacky asked, turning around to face me.

I faked a smile and shrugged. “After this I don’t think I’m ever going to be ok, Zacky. But at least I’m alive.”

“Yeah, and at least you don’t have to see those monsters on a daily basis like Zacky and I do,” Brent muttered bitterly.

I knew how hard it was going to be for both of them to keep moving on as if nothing happened, and I really wish they didn’t have the burden to carry. “Guys, no words could possibly describe how grateful I am…I would’ve died if you hadn’t come looking for me. I owe you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it, Court,” Brent smiled in the rearview mirror.

“Keep in touch,” Zacky added as I limped out of the car and pulled the hat I had borrowed from Brent further down over my face. I couldn’t stand the looks people were giving at my awful sight.

Apartment 4100 was located on the fourth floor, clearly. I walked slowly, hesitantly down the decorated hall until his door stood before me. I took in a deep breath, dreading this. Knock, knock. Slowly, the door opened revealing the very man I hadn’t seen in years – James Turner.

“Courtney…?” he asked, confusion turning into concern as he quickly led me inside and onto the couch.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I didn’t really give him much of a heads up? He kept staring at me shocked to see me and shocked to see the condition I was in. “Baby, what happened to you?”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I stared back at him with borderline hatred. “This is all your fault,” I sobbed into one of the expensive looking throw pillows.

“Courtney,” he said calmly, sitting next to me on the couch, “tell me what happened. I know I sure as hell have some explaining to do, but please just tell me.”

Since he insisted, I spent twenty five minutes straight spilling all of my guts…yelling at him for abandoning my mom and me, telling him how happy I was when she remarried Joe, how good things were until that day at the cave, all the horrible things that took place, my mom’s death, my near death experience, everything.

My dad sat in silence as he listened to my story. “All of that was your fault,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust, “if you hadn’t left, we never would have moved in with the Sullivan’s!”

His eyes were downcast on the floor, ashamed. “Courtney, it is very evident that none of that tragedy would’ve happened if I didn’t leave, but there were things that happened all those years ago that I just couldn’t explain to you at the time. In a strange way, you would be in more danger if I’d stayed than if I left…”

“That doesn’t make any sense, dad. And if there is something you need to tell me, I suggest you do it now before I resume hating you,” I growled, angered that he would even say something like that.

“You and your mother never knew…I wasn’t ready to let you know, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Julianne never knew what I really did for a living. That’s why, after time, she thought I was just outright cheating on her because of the frequent out of state travels, late hours, and my distantness. I wanted her to know so badly…but it was against the rules of the agency, and for a good reason too. Courtney, do you know what my profession is?”

I rolled my eyes and said, “If my mom couldn’t figure it out as a thirty-something-year-old, then what makes you think I’d be able to? I mean, to me it just sounds like you’re trying to make yourself sound cool to cover up your mistakes.”

“I’m an assassin by trade. In all honesty, I shouldn’t be revealing this information to you, but after all that’s happened I think you deserve to know. I work for Societal Slaughter, a flashy agency that trains people to become assassins. Over the years, due to my skill and loyalty, I’ve escalated the corporate ladder and have become one of the head vigilantes. We aren’t allowed to talk about our profession because if our loved ones know what we do, some crazed lunatic could come after them for vengeance…”

Remember how I felt when I first found out that my brother and best friends were planning on killing me for money? Yeah, I’m beginning to feel those feelings resurface right about now…my dad is a murderer?

I couldn’t find the right words that needed to be said in this situation – I was too busy laughing at the cold irony of his last statement “…if our loved ones know what we do, some crazed lunatic could come after them for vengeance…” HA! That happened to his loved ones, and he didn’t even fucking tell us his profession.

“Do you expect that to be enough of a reason for me to forgive you?” I spat.

I watched the sadness and sincere regret further cloud over his eyes. Maybe that was a little too harsh…he is trying after all. “No, I don’t expect you to forgive me, Courtney. It’s hard to say, from my position, what the right thing to do would’ve been because there would’ve been turmoil on either path, I just hope you can understand that. Also, I have a bit of a proposition,” he replied.

My eyebrows arched in involuntary interest. “I’m listening,” I said, not letting him know that I was too interested.

“This apartment is one of my vacation locations. My real house is located in the heart of Hollywood. I can give you anything you want. You can finish your schooling and,” he paused shortly, almost unsure whether to say this or not, “if you’d like, when you’re 21, I’ll give you a personal trainer to show you the ways of the assassin.”

After hearing that, a strange bubbling feeling erupted inside my stomach. Dare I say it, I think it may very well have been excitement. I had so many pent up emotions – namely hurt, anger, and fear – almost all of which could be removed by…killing someone else. Becoming an assassin would be the perfect “therapy,” even if I have to wait a few years before really being named one.

For the first time in years, I shot my dad a smile.

***

*Jimmy’s POV*

It’s been five years since Courtney died. That next night after her body was taken away, we had burned anything that could be used as evidence against us…the tools, bloody objects, even the golf clubs.

I contacted the police later that week, saying that I found my dad and step-mom’s bodies brutally murdered in the basement. Since Courtney was “missing,” she became the prime suspect. How perfect is that? The police are chasing a dead girl. We’ll never get caught.

After high school, Brian, Matt, Zacky, Johnny, and I formed a little band called Avenged Sevenfold. We spent our time traveling the country with Matt’s girlfriend, Val, in a tiny ass bus. But do you want to know what the best part is? During our travels, we murdered one girl in each state.

After we get Courtney’s tapes into the market, we’re going to create a “special edition” series documenting our travels and kills, reppin’ all of the US. I’m thinking we’re going to call it “Red, White, and Blood.”

You may be wondering why we waited so long to sell the Courtney tapes. Well, even in an illegal industry, they have rules and guidelines to, such as having to be 21+ to sell tapes. We were at our last stop of the tour in Dallas. When we got back to Huntington, I swear, the first thing we’re going to do is sell those damn tapes!

Anna Marie was the only waitress working the midnight shift at the local Corner Diner. The place was close to the shitty venue we played at, so we decided to stop off there. Val, Zacky, and Johnny were all unaware of Project Red, White, and Blood, which made the job much harder, especially for Matt. Brian and I exchanged knowing glances as we watched Anna Marie walk toward the kitchen.

“Guys, we’ll be right back,” Brian said simply.

We waited in the hallway until she came out of the kitchen. “Oh, gosh, you guys scared me!” she laughed, placing a hand over her heart and steadying her breathing.

“Good,” I grinned, pulling my camera out of my pocket and turning the recording function on.

“Are y’all going to take my picture?”

“Not quite,” Brian replied, digging into his pants and pulling out his favorite blade. It had a thick black hilt, jagged edging, and an excessively shiny metal blade.

“I think I wanna change my order to chopped liver,” Brian laughed, lunging forward and running the edgy blade along her stomach, instantly breaking skin and sending a clean straight splash of blood across our faces.

She was about to scream, but Brian knew better. He wrapped one arm tightly around her neck, choking the air out of her and making it near impossible to scream. He ran the knife along her body, stabbing every now and then.

Finally, when he was ready to go in for the kill, he jabbed the knife directly into her neck and let her body drop to the ground. She convulsed as she choked and gurgled on the blood filling her throat.

We dragged her body into the kitchen and of course happened to get caught by the chef. “Hey, what the–?” A single bullet in the skull silenced him as he dropped to the ground.

“How about some ground beef?” I laughed, reaching for a steak knife and began cutting the bodies up.

“Sounds delicious,” he replied, shoving the pieces into the blender.

*Normal POV*

It’s kind of funny how much a person can change in only five years. My dad stayed true to every part of his offer. He hired a private tutor to get me through the rest of high school. I took online courses to get a bachelor’s degree in Law, just for show really.

My dad informed the agency that he would be training me as his apprentice. His boss and the head “CEO,” Walter Malone, was rather pleased with my dad’s decision and welcomed me himself to the team.

The training itself was long, hard, and exhausting. Schoolwork seemed like a breeze compared to this. I had to learn how to be stealthy, invisible, smart, and lethal. I learned the difference between a quick kill and torture. I became an expert with firearms, swords, grenades, knives, and technology.

By the time I “graduated,” I was considered a prodigy. Of course, I’d have to kill all the people I was assigned to, but Walter knew about my three special targets, and promised that they could take priority over anyone else, should that situation occur.

Despite the fact that I hadn’t killed anyone yet, I was ready to begin my true mission. I drove over to the Sullivan house around midnight. According to SS’s database, Zacky, Johnny, Matt, and some Val chick moved into the house. Brian technically still lived at his house since it was on the same street, but clearly spent a lot of time at Jimmy’s.

I placed my backpack quietly on the ground as I stared at the house. Nothing was different, at least not on the outside. I didn’t know whether or not anyone was in the house, and I didn’t really care. I just wanted to send a message.

I dug into my backpack and pulled out the containers of gasoline. I poured it along the outside of the house, splashing it onto the vinyl and brick every now and then. Whatever was left was thrown through the windows and spilled onto the floor.

To finish it off, I grabbed a small flamethrower and produced flames, igniting the house on fire and turning it into a fiery inferno, just like hell.

Yes, I wanted to send a message. I want them to know that I’m coming for them. And I won’t stop until their blood has coated my hands.