I hadn't planned to post this chapter today, but what the hell… enjoy.
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Up in the room, I yanked a backpack open and began shoving cans and bottles inside with frantic, shaking hands. Every second felt too long. Every sound felt too loud. My chest was tight—like I was already drowning before anything even happened.
Then I rushed back into the hallway.
Rohan was trying to get his sister, Anika, to move, but she wouldn't budge. The moment he tugged her arm, she collapsed into hysterical sobs. Panic twisted across his face. He looked helpless—like a man sinking in deep water with no air left.
Ava moved without hesitation. She knelt beside the trembling girl and wrapped her in gentle arms.
"Hey… hey, sweet girl," she whispered, brushing Anika's hair with steady, soothing strokes. "It's okay. No one will hurt you. You're safe. And if you stop crying, I'll give you candy—remember last time?"
Anika's sobs faltered. Her large, watery eyes lifted to Ava's face.
"A-are you really telling the truth, big sister?" she whispered.
Ava smiled—a tired, soft, impossibly warm smile.
"Yes," she murmured. "I promise. I've never lied to you, right? So listen to your brother. Be a good girl. And I'll give you lots of candy."
Something in Anika loosened. She wiped her tears, nodded, and held onto Ava's sleeve like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
For a brief, fragile moment… hope flickered in her eyes—
BANG!
The gunshot cracked through the hallway like the world itself split in half.
Before thought could form, bullets ripped upward from below—splintering wood, shredding walls, showering us in dust and broken plaster. The entire motel trembled beneath the barrage.
Downstairs, John and Matthew were already in a gunfight, firing back from behind half-destroyed walls. Outside, at least fifteen bandits in the cars took positions around the motel, blasting away without pause.
I turned back—
Anika stared up at me.
Her mouth opened… but only blood came out. Thick, bubbling, choking.
She'd been shot in the chest.
She trembled. Confused. Hurt in a way no innocent girl should ever be.
Then I saw Ava.
Her shoulder was torn open, blood spilling between her fingers as she tried to pinch the wound shut. Her eyes were wide—shock, pain, disbelief.
Something fragile inside me snapped.
Rohan screamed and fired blindly down the stairs. I grabbed both girls and dragged them into the room, firing back through the doorway. I hit one bandit—but there were too many left. Bullets peppered the walls, forcing me low.
Then another shot tore into Rohan's stomach.
He collapsed, howling in agony, blood soaking through his fingers.
Anika was dying.
Her breaths weren't breaths anymore—just shallow, panicked gasps. Faster. Weaker. Bubbling with blood.
She wasn't going to make it.
Ava tried to stop the bleeding—pressing her thumb into the wound, hands slick with red—but it did nothing.
My hand moved on instinct.
I raised my pistol toward the girl's head.
Her eyes widened—pure, heartbreaking terror.
"P-please… d-don't hurt me…" she whimpered, clinging to Ava, shaking violently.
My chest caved in. My stomach curled into something sick.
I didn't want this.
I didn't want any of this.
My hand trembled so hard I almost dropped the gun.
"Don't you fucking kill my sister!" Rohan screamed, delirious with pain, grief, denial. "She's fine! She's fine! Don't—!"
I couldn't think.
My mind split in opposite directions, tearing me apart.
"Max," Ava snapped. Her voice shook, but her will didn't. "Lower your gun. Now."
I didn't move.
Couldn't move.
Not until her eyes met mine—steady, commanding, pleading.
I began to lower the gun—
Anika screamed.
"AAAHH!"
Her jaws clamped into Ava's shoulder. Hard. Deep.
"NO! MOM!" I screamed.
Anika convulsed violently. Her spine cracked into impossible angles. Her arms curled inward. Her small face twisted—feral, monstrous—but still, beneath it, heartbreakingly hers.
Then she lunged at me.
I shoved her away. She crashed into the wall.
I raised my gun again. My heart tore itself apart. My finger hesitated—God, I hated myself for hesitating. She was just a poor girl. She'd already suffered enough.
But she lunged again.
I fired.
The bullet ripped through her skull.
She collapsed instantly, twitching once before going still.
"No! YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU KILLED MY SISTER!" Rohan screamed. His grief swallowed him whole, twisting his face into something unrecognizable.
He lifted his AK-47 at me.
He wasn't Rohan anymore.
Just pain wearing his face.
I fired before thinking.
He dropped instantly.
My pistol slipped out of my shaking hand and hit the floor with a heavy, echoing thud.
I didn't want to kill any of them.
God, I didn't want to.
Everything inside me hollowed out.
I crawled to Ava and lifted her head into my lap. Blood soaked her shirt. A savage bite mark tore across her shoulder. Her breathing was slow—too slow.
My throat closed. Tears blurred everything.
"Mom… please…" My voice cracked apart. "Please don't leave me. I've lost too much… please stay. Please don't go…"
I held her hand—cold, trembling.
"Max… honey… don't cry," she whispered, breath fading. "You look so… cute when you laugh."
That shattered me.
Her trembling fingers rose to touch my cheek.
The world around me went cold and quiet.
Gunpowder in the air.
Blood smeared across every surface—the floor, the walls, the ceiling.
I wondered if this was hell.
If I was dead and didn't know it.
After a long silence—one that felt like an entire lifetime—Ava spoke again, voice thin and trembling.
"Live happily, my love… I wish…" She swallowed, fighting the pain. "…I wish I could stay longer."
Her voice.
Her eyes.
Her warmth fading second by second.
It felt like someone was tearing my heart out with their bare hands.
"Max…" she breathed. "Sweetheart… look at me."
I forced my head up. Tears distorted everything.
Ava glanced at the gun on the floor.
"Please, Mom…" I begged. "Don't leave me…"
She brushed my head, her fingers shaking uncontrollably.
"Eat properly… take care of yourself," she whispered. Her eyes—soft and full of love—never left mine.
Then she reached for the gun.
"No—no—Mom, please—don't—don't do this—please—!" I grabbed her arm desperately.
She pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.
"Live without regret, Max…" she murmured, voice barely audible. "And remember… laugh. Always laugh. I'll watch over you from heaven…"
"Bye… my cute son."
A single tear slid onto my shoulder—
BANG.
The gunshot erupted beside my ear.
Ava's body went limp in my arms.
I froze.
Something inside me ruptured—raw, violent.
A scream tore out of me—animalistic, broken. I pressed my face into her hair and screamed into the world that kept taking everything from me.
Outside, the motel exploded in gunfire, shouting, shattering glass—
but all I heard was my own breathing:
Fast.
Uneven.
Wrong.
And the echo of the gunshot that stole her away.
"Mom… Mom, please don't leav—"
My voice cracked apart.
It didn't sound like mine.
It sounded broken.
I shook her gently.
Then harder.
And harder.
"Mom, wake up… wake up… please wake up…"
She didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't return.
"Please… God… don't do this to me…" My voice trembled violently. "Please… just don't take my mother away…"
But no answer came.
No answer ever came.
My breath stuttered. My hands went numb. The world tilted sideways. My jaw locked. My fingers twitched uncontrollably. My vision shook like the world was vibrating around me.
Something dark and suffocating rose up from deep inside—
And then:
"Ha… ha… hahaha… HAAHAHAHAHA—!"
A laugh ripped out of me.
Wild.
Twisted.
Inhuman.
I laughed harder.
And harder.
Because the pain was too much to cry.
Too much to breathe.
Too much to survive.
What a joke.
What a cruel, miserable joke life was.
Everyone I ever cared about—
I always lost them.
Always.
If I hadn't hesitated…
If I had killed Anika sooner…
If I had been ruthless…
Ava might still be alive.
My mother.
My mother.