Pointed Gun

Did I Have to Ask?

Boston

"Was drugging him absolutely necessary? He was weak already; you probably could've dragged him here."

A small yet stern, familiar voice claimed the crevices of my empty mind in dizzy loops. Forcing itself into a place that remained black as long as my eyes stayed shut and my heart skipped a beat. Or multiple.

"Don't show some compassion for him now little miss you hate him. You shot em, remember?" Another invaded the first in conversation. I think it was Gavin's. It sounded familiar. It pissed me off so bad I almost wanted to blow my own cover.

"Yeah, and I can shoot you too, jackass so don't push it" Definitely the voice of Ida that time no question. With that snarky reply, attitude, and name-calling wrapped in one, it couldn't have been mistaken. Didn't sound like much compassion occupied any vocals of that voice.

She didn't care. If she did, leaving me to bleed out after trying to fatally shoot me would've never crossed her mind.

And hate, that was mutual. But allowing those words to slip my mouth would break me more than her. Becoming that level of evil not exactly on my 'things to do before I died' list. I couldn't hate her; I merely hated what she did. What she'd become. Probably dancing off the bullshit Gavin gossiped on about behind our backs. Falling in line with what she thought was acceptable in the game to become unstoppable.

To stop me.

Ida is simply confused and wants guidance. I was wrong to try and give it to her. Now, look at what I've created.

I twitched, feeling the blood pumping through my veins with a bass boost. When the hole in my body made sure not to be ignored through intense throbbing to refill drained blood on a treadmill. I groaned in agony. I groaned for help.

"He's waking up." Ida's words weren't frantic, they just sounded that way. As if facing my waking face iced in pain would be deadly for her caring eyes.

"You deal with him, I'll go get them ready."

Them? Who the hell are them?

Dammit, my head. What's going on?

My eyes fluttered until they regained the strength to open. My initial eyesight far from direct to make sense. Too blurry to focus on anything useful concerning my whereabouts or simple enough, faces of the people I'd grown to despise.

My abdomen at its peak with what it could withstand.

It burns, it stings, I want to die.

I sat up despite the dizzy sensation casting stones against my skull. Darkness surrounded me everywhere, but the power of a low hanging light just above me did its job of making the atmosphere that much eerie. And creepy enough to elate chills in my spine.

"Now, now, Boston." Colorful joy etched that voice of betrayal. "Foolish of you to force strength you don't have." Gavin held a conversation. However, my attention and care for it died a long time ago.

Maybe I didn't have much of what'd disguised itself as excruciating pain.

Maybe I didn't care. Being physically weak was one thing. Being mentally restricted was another. Two important factors to a game I saw myself easily losing.

I threw one leg over the bed while steadying myself for the other. I knew Gavin was watching and waiting for me to make progress just so he could shove me down and watch me start from the beginning. Almost like an innocent insect we used to terrorize as children. Watching as the little fucker helplessly kicked and wiggled to get back on its feet.