Weeping Angels

Part XXIV: Sometimes, Daddy Doesn't Know Best.

The cold metal of the gun in Kettu's hand brought back chilling memories of the last time that he held it. The unpleasantness turned his stomach, but the reason he held it now was far different, a world different than the last time that he held it in his hands. It wasn't to stop any kind of pain from tormenting him, it wasn't meant to end a life.

It was meant to save one.

"I can't talk you into calling the police, can I?" Ben asked, making an effort not to even make eye contact with his friend.

"No. I can't take that chance." Kettu said quietly as he loaded the gun with ammunition, "I can live with myself if I kill him, but I can't if I let him kill her." The very thought of it caused Kettu's throat to tighten unpleasantly, tears threatening to make their way out of his eyes.

Stay Brave. He told himself. You're going to need it.

"Then I guess you've got to do what you've got to do." Ben said, turning away.

"If anyone asks," Kettu said, stopping his friend, "I had this all along."

"Right." Ben said nonchalantly, and with that, he was gone. Kettu stood in surprise. It had been the first time that his friend had ever simply walked away from him, a sense of loss filled him, like that was the last time the two of them would ever meet, and chances were that it was.

He marched through the streets, the gun tucked into his pants, hidden underneath his jacket. He didn't care about the freezing cold or how his body shook against it, or even the blizzard like snowfall that seemed to drain the world of all its colour and beauty. He only thought about what needed to be done, and what he was doing now. By no means did he feel like a storybook hero bound to save his lover from a monster, instead, he felt like a monster himself, having to stoop to the level of his father in order to protect the girl he had fallen for so badly.

But could she ever love such a monster?

Should she?

Kettu remembered the hell Joseph had put his poor mother through. No woman ever deserved that, not his mother, not Nina.

He tried to remind himself he was not like Joseph, that he was caring, and cherished Nina in a way Joseph never cherished his mother. That he and Joseph were two entirely separate entities.

But if that were true, why was he now walking through the streets, gun in hand, with murder on his mind? After today, he would be a murderer, just like his old man.

I guess the apple doesn't fall as far from the tree as I first thought, Kettu thought to himself.

The address stood before him in fading brown letters on the urine-yellow aluminum siding of the warehouse. He had made it, and the only thing standing between him, his father and Nina was a rusting Orange door. Numerous emotions tore through him, fear, anxiety, anger, but most of all, determination. He took a breath and pushed his way through the door.

The inside of the warehouse was dark, impossibly dark. The only light came from a single ceiling light, that cast its beam to the floor, within it sat Nina, tied to a chair, her head down, her hair cascading over her face, blocking any of her features.

"Nina!" Kettu called out, ignoring the instinct that he was walking into a trap and ran to her, lifting her face to the light. Her beautiful face was now swollen, her left eye blackened and swollen shut. Her mouth covered with a silver strip of duct tape. Her open eye stared at him in disbelief.

"Don't worry, Nina." Kettu said softly, caressing her hair, "I will get you out of here, I promise."

"That's just like you, boy." A voice emerged from the dark, echoing off the walls, "making promises you can't keep." Kettu turned around, and felt a strong, painful blow to his right temple.

And everything went dark.