Die Trying

chapter eight.

- Flashback (continued from last chapter) -

A few months after.

"Hey, give me that." Peter commanded, pointing the gun at the woman, who shakily handed him her purse.

He snatched it from her, one hand holding the gun up, while the other dug inside of the bag. He felt around, pulling out a large wallet. He stuffed it in his pants. "All you got is shit." He sighed, throwing it back at her.

"Please don't kill me." She begged, staring down at the barrel.

"Whatever. Go away, you're boring and you have boring shit." He snapped. "Don't tell anybody about this, or I'll find you again." He waved the gun around, a smile on his face as she stumbled back, before sprinting away from the child.

He looked up around the secluded area. He unloaded the gun before hiding it inside of his jacket, digging his bruised hands inside the pockets. "Stupid town full of stupid people." He began to walk, on and on until he walked past most of the buildings. He looked up, small hills surrounded the town. Maybe that was how the town got its name; Hills. He always wanted to climb up one of them, look down on the city from a bird's eye view.

And he did exactly that.

He climbed, huffing as he tried to regain his breath. When he finally made it to the top, he collapsed on his back, ontop of the soft grass. He watched the clouds as they went by. They were free, free to go wherever they wanted whenever they wanted.

He sat up, staring down at the town below. His thoughts swarmed his head. He wanted to leave. This place had caused him so much pain.

But through all the pain, he found a new family, and he would do anything for them. He would even die for them.

His hand reached down to his sock. He pulled out a red lighter, flicking it on. His hand reached for a roll of paper. He stared at the two hesitantly.

It couldn't hurt to smoke once...

He awkwardly moved the paper to the lighter, the flames' warmth kissing his face before lighting the cigarette.

He shakily out it up to his lips, sucking in.

He immediently began coughing, His eyes watering "Fuck-"

He looked down in disgust. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea..." He mumbled under his breath. He threw the cigarette down the hill as hard as he could. His thumb rubbed against the lighter.

He thought about how fun it would be to light something on fire. An idea popped in his head..

"When I leave this town, I'll burn it to the ground." He said to himself. He looked past his legs and stared at the grass. He picked a piece off before lighting it on fire. He gasped as he accidentally burned himself, the grass quickly extinguishing. He sucked on the wound, getting up. He blinked, he was going to promise to destroy this town, maybe not now, but sometime in the future.

- End of Flashback -

Peter jumped up from his bed, his body slick with sweat. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily.
"It's just a dream Peter, calm down."
He shakily pushed himself up from his bed, navigating through the dark until he switched on the light. He made his way to the bathroom, doing the same, squinting his eyes from the blinding lights. He switched the sink on, splashing his face with cool water. He looked back at the mirror, he felt a chill run down his back, his neck prickling. Out of the corner of the mirror stood a figure, the mouth only visible, curled into a terryfing smile. He whipped around, facing the bathroom closet. He leaned against the counter, his hand trailing underneath it. He grabbed the knife he had hidden, the tape coming with it.

"Who's there?" He asked. "I have a knife and I'm not afraid to use it, so come out.

Silence hung throughout the air, the soft snores from the other's were the only other sounds beside his own breathing. He forced himself to move forward, before slamming the closet door open loudly, revealing a man.

A man he never wanted to see.

"Y-you're-" He stammered, his blood going cold.

Infront of him stood the man that killed his parents, the same, twisted smirk on his face from before. He twisted his bushy beard, staring into Peter's eyes.

Peter's legs became shaky as the bad memories flooded in. "Go- go away." He sobbed, raising a shaky hand towards the man's heart.

"Well, well, well look what we have here." The man repeated, the same raspy voice that Peter heard years ago.

"Go away... I killed you." Peter began to yell now, hot tears streaming down his face.

He didn't notice the bathroom door cracking open, and a head peak inside. "Peter? What are you doing?"

He reluctantly took his eyes off of the man, making out Marina's face through his tears.

"He's here!" Peter pointed at the closet.

She walked inside, closing the door. She keeled down next to the frightened boy, embracing him in a hug. "Peter, there's no one there."

"W-what?" He asked, his voice breaking.

She let go, her brown eye searching his blue ones. "There's no one there, Pip. You're just imagining things. Did you just wake up?"

"Y-yeah... I kept having nightmares."

"You're just hallucinating, you know that nobody can come in this apartment, not if I can help it. She got up, stepping inside of the closet. "You're probably still tired."

The man really had gone.

"He was the one who killed them." He said breathlessly, His voice barely audible.

"I know Peter, I know." She helped the shaky boy to his feet, leading him out to sit at the table. She got a cup and poured some water in it, handing it to him. She sat down beside him, rubbing his back soothingly, which only made him sob harder.

"I want them back." He cried.

"I know you do." She whispered. "If I could do anything to bring them back, I would... bad people do bad things and you didn't deserve to go through that..."

He clung on to her, his head pounding.

"You know I love you and I'll always be here for you," She pat his head. "You're like my little brother, I'll always look out for you."

"I love you too." Peter grinned through his tears. He let go, rubbing his face, taking a deep breath.

"See, that's better. No more crying." She fixed her good eye on him, smiling gently. "Now go back to sleep, I need my beauty sleep or I'm going to look like a crusty goblin tomorrow."

They both laughed softly.

"Okay." Peter got up, picking up the knife that he had set down and took it to his room.

He set it on his bedside table, covering himself with his blanket. He stared at the ceiling, then rubbed his eyes. He turned on his side, His eyes fixed on the locket. He reached a hand over before bringing it to his chest, closing it in his hand. He closed his eyes, falling asleep.

Nobody noticed the figure that finally opened the door to their apartment, nobody noticed the short scream as a bag went over a little head, or as a squirming mass was forced to go as the door was quietly shut again.

Nobody had noticed that one of the kids had been kidnapped.