The Mistake That Broke Me

Chapter Nine: His Domain

His heart is still coming down from the adrenaline rush that his fight produced. He can feel it thundering in his chest, and for that, he is grateful. He's relieved he is still alive because often times, he feels like a soulless monster.

And maybe he is.

Maybe he is a soulless monster who finds comfort in his own beating heart.

The roads are windy on the way back to his family, his gang. He risks driving on the local high way. He knows cops, though they're not after him yet, he knows he may be a suspect for illegal drug trades and other suspicious activities.

But tonight, he just wants to go home and rest, so he takes the quicker, easier way home.

The high way.

He speeds along the high way that is nearly empty as it is late at night. His surroundings whiz by and becomes a blur. The road beneath his tires blend into the night and eat up distance as he becomes closer and closer to the place he calls home.

But then he slows down when he sees a path of destruction. Inky skid marks are engraved into the road, and his eyes travel up to meet the scene of a car crash. It had just happened as far as he could tell, because the wheels are still spinning on one of the cars that lies on its side.

He sees smoke and fire billowing out one of the cars, and he pulls over to the side of the road.

He shouldn't care.

He shouldn't care about the lives that are trapped in the car that night.

He shouldn't care about about humanity, he shouldn't care because all he's ever done was take.

Not save.

But tonight will be different, because for whatever reason, he pulls over to the side of the road and walks towards the carnage, but not before flipping open his out dated flip phone and dialing 911.

"I would like to report a crash." He says quietly. He quickly gives the operator the details before heading over.

He sees a woman, badly injured, dragging herself towards the burning car and trying to free someone. She cries in desperation and he almost feels bad for her.

Almost.

Glass has rained down on the earth like snow, and it crunches beneath his feet as he walks towards the woman. Her blonde hair is messy and blood and glass is stuck into it. Tears, or blood, he can't quite tell, streams down her face in messy waves.

As gently as he can muster, (as he's not used to gentleness nor has he ever experienced gentleness) he grips the woman's arms and pulls her into him. He doesn't want to injure her further so he truly does his best to be as tender to her as possible.

With her trapped against his chest, he drags her away from the burning vehicle and hushes her as he lays her down onto her back.

She winces and cries in pain.

His eyes travel to her body. Glass is protruding from her side, dangerously close to one of her lungs. Her clothes are ripped in some places from the glass, and she's a bloody mess. Her eyes, which are wide with pain and desperation, stare up at his.

Had the situation not been as serious as this he would have found her to be beautiful, but right now, his mind is focused on the survival of this woman and the life trapped in the burning vehicle.

He looks her dead in the eyes and speaks. "Do not move. Any further movement could kill you. Help is on the way." His voice is low and serious, and the woman can't help but obey his command.

He runs over to the burning vehicle, and seeing that glass is blocking him and the child that's trapped inside, he takes his gun out of his waistband and rams the butt of it into the glass. It shatters immediately and he coughs when smoke enters his lungs.

But that doesn't stop him from pulling out the little child which is only about eight years old. The man's heart clenches when he sees the child in such critical condition. For whatever reason, the man has a soft spot for children.

But of course, he wold never admit that.

He lays the child down on the road and flipping his arm face up, he presses two fingers against the boy's wrist, silently pleading the God he hopes to exist for a pulse. Any sign of life, he will gladly except.

But he's met with emptiness.

No low vibration of life is felt beneath his fingers.

Just emptiness.

He clenches his jaw, hating that death had to come so soon for such a young life. He clenches his jaw, hating the fact that by the looks of it, the woman lying on her back across from him had caused this.

When he looks up at the woman, he sees that she's looking at him through hazy, tear filled vision. He knows what she's silently asking, and he shakes his head slowly in response.

The sound of blaring sirens become closer and closer, and like a spooked wild animal, the man flees into the night, back onto his motorcycle once more.

For he does not want to be found.