Akimbo ✓

20 : Smashed

Ignatius' breath hitched. He put Seraphina on call and pressed the phone to his ear. He was gripping the device so tightly, his knuckles hurt. The phone rang and rang and rang... but Seraphina did not pick up.

Okay, don't panic! Ignatius pocketed the phone and climbed down the tower. With his limbs shaking and heart quivering, and his head going through a million possible scenarios of what must have gone wrong, the climb down the stairs was a perilous affair and it took twice the time to step back on the ground.

He had just gotten into his car when Seraphina called back.

"Ignatius!" Her voice held the unmistakable note of panic. "Where are you?"

Ignatius knew something was terribly wrong. "What's happened?"

Seraphina went silent for a moment. When she spoke, she had calmed down a little, "Where are you? Who are you with?"

"I..." Ignatius was not sure what to tell her. "Nevermind that, tell me what's wrong?" A frightening thought occurred to him, "Is mother alright?"

"Yes, she's... she's fine."

The edge in her voice was increasing Ignatius' dread by the second. He just wanted her to rip the bandage! "Just tell me what's wrong!" he cried.

"The Hawthornes sent a video!" Ignatius' fingers slackened and the phone dropped to his feet. Its sensor was on, so Seraphina's voice was put on speaker as she said, "I-It showed you... kissing Thrill."

Ignatius sat behind the wheel, frozen – his eyes staring at nothing, mouth slightly ajar, his hand grasping at thin air by his ear.

"Ignatius!" Seraphina was saying. "Are you there?"

The Hawthornes sent a video. It showed you kissing Thrill.

Three days ago Ignatius had crashed his car into a lake. He still remembered every bit of it vividly, especially those moments when the car went over the bridge and he could see it tipping downwards, the water getting closer by the second. Time had slowed down, and his mind had gone numb. The fear that crawled up his chest was cold, ­so cold­, that it did not feel real. It was too terrifying to be real. It instead felt like a dream. All Ignatius had to do was wait till he woke up.

At that moment, sitting in his car, Ignatius felt the familiar cold hands of raw terror reaching out to him, numbing his brain. He wasn't sure if he was breathing, wasn't sure if his heart was beating... he wasn't even sure if he was alive. He wished he wasn't alive. He wished he was still atop the tower so that he could've just... jumped.

Don't worry. No one will know. Wasn't that what Thrill had said?

Ignatius felt disgusting. Everything that occurred the previous night suddenly made him feel so fucking dirty, he wanted to claw out his skin. How could he be so stupid? How could he trust Thrill? They were rivals! Ignatius had said mean things to him and filled a fake lawsuit against him, of course Thrill was out for revenge.

How could Ignatius be so stupid?

"Ignatius, please answer me," Seraphina's voice sounded distant and distorted, like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. "Where are you? I'll go pick you up. Don't – don't do anything rash, okay? And... don't go home."

Don't go home.

Don't go home.

Don't go home.

"How bad is it?" Ignatius asked, his voice unnervingly calm compared to what he was feeling inside.

"Just tell me where you are. We can talk when I–"

Ignatius cut the call.

Don't go home.

This was it. His life was over.

Don't go home.

What was his mother going to do? Slap him? Hit him? Send him to a mental asylum? Kill him?

Ignatius did not realise when the tears started to flow, but soon he was clutching onto his mouth and howling amidst painful bouts of sobs. He was crying so hard he had difficulty sucking in air. And everything was hurting – his chest, his throat, his nose, his eyes, his head. He wanted to die. He wished he had the strength to climb up the tower and then jump from there...

Oh Iggy, you're killing me.

You're adorable.

Are you crying?

Ignatius slammed his fists on the steering wheel and screamed. And kept screaming, till it felt like his throat would get ripped apart.

Don't worry, no one will know.

In a sudden ­bout of rage, Ignatius rubbed his eyes and then reached out to start the engine. He wasn't in the state to drive – the tears blurred his vision, his ears were ringing with ghosts of bygone conversations and his mind was numb. He was barely aware of what he was doing, but he knew where he was going. On the way, if he met with an accident... that would be for the best.

He had nothing left to lose.

Ignatius had grown so numb and so cold that he barely realised that he had reached the Hawthorne Residence. When he was asked to slow down at the check post, all he felt was rage; he pushed the accelerator harder, slamming the car on the road blocker that sprung up from the ground.

The airbag flared up, smashing against Ignatius' face. The intensity of the blow knocked all breath out of him and searing pain shot to his brain. It felt like most of his bones had been broken, but he was only vaguely aware of what was happening. Warm blood gushed out of his injured nose and dripped down his lips, but it meant anything to him anymore. This pain was nothing compared to what was pressing down on his chest.

He pushed open the door and stumbled to his feet. Through blurred vision, he saw the Hawthorne guards standing in front of him, guns aimed at him.

"What?" Ignatius shouted at them. "You're going to shoot me?" He stretched out his hands. "Shoot me!"

The man at the forefront pressed the trigger.