Till Deceived Do We Part

I don’t remember waking seconds later. I don’t remember firing my gun savagely at our opponents, in no regards to my own safety. I don’t remember screaming so rawly that my throat burned, nor do I remember physically assaulting them. What I do remember is the anger, and that’s when my mind woke, slamming all the emotions over Jake’s death into me.

The anger in me, it burned; it curled. It wrapped around my heart and squeezed, squeezing the humanity out. All I saw was red; blood red. All I heard were screams; their screams. Their screams of pain, of terror, of pleas. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. I needed this, needed to feel their pulse slipping under my hands, needed to feel their blood on my hands, but mainly I needed to feel the revenge; the hate. For what else could I feel? Sorrow? Loss? Anguish? No. Those weren’t emotions I was about to feel, so I stuck with the anger.

My throat burned from screaming profanities. My hand hurt from striking the enemies and my mind burned from the tidal wave of rage. No! I couldn’t think. I just couldn’t. I screamed, lashed my fist down on the man beneath me and shot him in the heart. I was on my feet in no time, looking for my next victim; for my next punching bag.

My eyes landed on my next victim just as Flint lunged for me, trying to get me under control. I had none of that. I elbowed him in the gut, spun, striking my knee to his stomach, and sent him sprawling face first into the cement. He was screaming at me, yelling, his face a mask of fury and anguish, but I head none of the words. His lips moved, but it was as if no sound came out of them.

I turned and ran. Ran into the storm, with the rain whipping past me faster than the wind itself. The rain was all I heard, the pounding of water against water, of water against substances and of water against mother nature. That’s all I heard, but not all I saw. What I saw was Dalton. Running. The man who made my life hell, from the age of three up until now. All I saw was my next target, my next release of anger. He was so mine.

I was faster than him. I shouldn’t have been. For who should have been in better shape? A beaten up women with a broken arm? Or an in shape, perfectly healthy male? Only difference was my speed was spurred by anger. His by fear. While I’m sure he was on the verge of peeing his pants out of fear, that fear had nothing on my anger. My anger was enough to fill an ocean, currently. Which was a very scary concept.

I tackled him from behind, not even feeling the pulsing pain of my arm, or the blood pounding in my ears. He grunted, his hands shooting out to block his fall. Once we hit the ground, he pushed up. I lost composure, but rolled gracefully out of it, diving at him immediately. He went down again, this time on his back. I slammed the base of my gun across his face, earning a satisfying spray of blood. And then he laughed, fuelling my anger. I screamed and smashed the gun into his face again.

“The rage! Such a good team we’ll ma-“ I slammed my fist into his face this time, the gun no longer satisfying the hunger in me. I wanted my flesh to be the cause for his pain. I wanted me to be the cause of his suffering. “Poor poor Dray. She lost her mentor, stings, doesn’t it? I suppose we’re even no-“ I punched him, again and again, not even seeing him anymore. All I saw was red. All I heard was rain.

Rain. Drop after drop. Continuous action. I used to find it soothing, now I didn’t. Jake always said rain was what fuelled the Earth. That just as death gave nutrients to the soil, rain allowed the Earth to feel. In feeling, it allowed it to act; to live. Only now, Jake was no longer living. It didn’t seem fair that this action that was allowing us all to live, was happening as Jake lay headless in the other room. It just didn’t seem right.

“You gonna kill me, Drake?” Dalton asked, his face a bloody mess, his voice lisping due to his split lip and broken nose. I stared down at him, no emotion in my eyes, allowing him to truly see what was inside. And when I got that pant-pissing-fear expression, I shot him. In the face, as Jake had received. I stood, my gun still trained on him.

A scream of outrage left me and I shot again. This time in his chest. I shot again. And again and again. I emptied my gun into his body, riddling it with more holes than a cork board. And when my gun ran out, I threw it at him, screaming curses in the process. I lunged at his dead body, just needing to inflict more. Needing to get revenge, needing to avenge Jake. He couldn’t go un-avenged! He wouldn’t! Just as my fist was about to slam into him, my body was jerked.

I screamed, turned and lashed out; unseeing. Hands grabbed me. One pinning my arm, the other one pinning my body against his. The rain pounded down on my head as I squeezed my eyes shut, just wishing for death. Wishing for the turmoil of emotions to stop.

“Calm down, Drake. It’s over. For good. Shh. We need to get out of here. Can you understand me? Drake? Andrayka?” My head swayed, wanting the words to go away. It just complicated things. “Come on, Andrayka. Pull it together! For Zane.”

Numb. I liked it. Better than feeling. My body was soaked, my hair hanging limply across my shoulders. My injuries were all numb, but that didn’t stop my limp. I was no longer armed, and Flint saw no reason for me to get another gun since he was around. I didn’t have the energy to argue.

So here we were, me repeating the directions to get to Zane. It was amazing that I remembered them, but Zane’s name struck a chord in me. We needed to get him to help.

Flint followed me without question. Usually I would revel in this, make him dance like a dog would for a treat, but now, now? I allowed him to follow me like a puppy without a word. Without a sound.

Flint had grabbed a set of keys from Mr. Peripheral, something I wouldn’t have thought about doing.

Flint opened the door, and we both began our descent into the musky, cold, stench filled, cell chamber. The steps were rough on my feet, and I stumbled a couple times, but I kept going. I had to. For if I didn’t, I had a sinking suspicion that I’d curl in a ball and not want to get up. Flint steadied me when had needed to, but tried to give me space at the same time.

The stairs soon vanished behind us, and the cells came into view. All the inmates were at the bars, watching; waiting. Flint glanced at them, taking in their appearance, but never stopped. He had his mind set on one person, and one person alone. The police would be here shortly, no doubt. We’d leave it to them to figure out what to do. These men were no concern to us, only Zane was.

Flint was in the lead, glancing at the cells as he walked by, looking for Zane. And obviously not trusting me to lead him to him. I didn’t trust myself, either. However, when he walked by Zane’s cell, not even sparing him a second glance, I stopped. My body moved to the bars, the closest ones to Zane, and dropped to my knees. He looked up now, his swollen face meeting mine. I tried to smile. Tried to form a bare one on my lips, to let him know it was all okay, but I couldn’t manage. He noticed that, and what colour was left in his face drained.

Flint noticed I was no longer with him and turned. He glanced at me, and then to the shape hobbling over to the bars I was at. He clued in and let out a string of cusses, breaking into a jog to get to the cell. He fumbled with the keys, inserting each one into the lock and then cursing as each one seemed to fail.

“The square pointy one.” Zane said, but his eyes never left me. He made it to where I was, his hand reaching through the bars to grip mine. His eyes took in my new attire; a jacket and no shirt. He stroked my hand with his fingers, and spoke gently. I’m not sure what he said, but it didn’t matter. Hearing his voice soothed some of the turmoil in me.

There was a satisfying click, and Flint yanked open the door, heading for Zane immediately. Zane shot me one last look before releasing my hand and allowing Flint to help him to his feet. Flint was still cursing silently, but regardless of his foul mouth, he was gentle with Zane. He took Zane’s left arm, not touching his broken right, and swung it around his neck. Zane put pressure on his un-swollen ankle, and slowly, they made it out of the cell.

I took a deep breath and pushed myself to my feet, my knees shaking horribly as I did it. Zane shot a smile my way, and his one eye that could see, twinkled.

“We’re beaten, but we’re still a team. I knew you’d get me out.” My heart clenched, and I turned away quickly, my hair covering my face. Zane frowned, glancing at Flint who was strangely silent. “Am I missing something? Drake, they didn’t... you know? Did they?” An angry lit had taken to his voice. I shook my head, not trusting my voice. No, they hadn’t, but it seemed to distant. So long ago. When Zane glanced at Flint, he finally spoke.

“Jake’s dead.” The words crashed into me and I crumpled. Hearing it was just so much worse.