Chapter 94: Chapter 94

Chapter 94 Old bullet wound

He had one more thing he needed to do before he could have a chance to look to the future happily, or so he thought. He licked his lips in anticipation as he stalked the moon like a predator - watching as it rose high in the sky like some king in all his glittering glory.

The light of the full moon shone in his eyes and he resisted the urge to cower away from it. He liked to carry out his evil in darkness, not in blaring lights, but this would just have to do.

His knuckles clenched at his sides before he brought his hand to his waistband, feeling the bulge of the weapon he would be impending doom upon his own flesh and blood. He pulled it from the place where it sat tucked safely away and rested his finger on the trigger.

The cool feel of the steel weapon before him made him smirk in satisfaction. The shadows etched onto his face made him seem haunting and terrifying, even. The darkness the shadows were drenched in skewed and disfigured his facial features and made him look like the very monsters that only existed in tales that bestowed great evil.

Only, this one was real.

This one was real and on the prowl to take one final life. To bring justice by his hand.

Because this final call for justice would start with the death of his father. His father, whom now lives a peaceful life in a middle class suburban home on the outskirts of the city.

Colton growled in anger, it was't fair that his father got to live out the rest of his days in peace. No, he needed to suffer and Colton would be the one to make him suffer. Colton would be the one to end up and Colton would be the one to carry out the revenge that would make him whole again.

But Colton was wrong.

Because Colton was only tearing himself down with his own hate and thirst for blood.

A part of him felt guilty for breaking his promise to Lily. He had told her he would flee from his own, dark past but no matter how hard he tried, his past always seemed to crawl back to him.

The blood of his past seemed to always seep back within the cracks of his heart, tempting him to return to the dark lair once again.

And he vowed to himself that he would fight that urge, but this time he could do no such thing.

Not when an opportunity as golden as this has presented itself upon him.

He had known about his father's whereabouts way too long and now it was finally the perfect time to execute the final stage of revenge. He couldn't even fathom living a fulfilled future knowing that his father was out there, still alive and being happy.

If his father thinks he can just fuck up his son's life, then suddenly turn his life around and live peacefully for the rest of his days then he was wrong. He was wrong and Colton was going to show him how wrong he was.

He carefully loaded his pistol with a couple of bullets, his fingers shaking as he did so. He didn't know why they were shaking, he wasn't afraid or particularly anxious nor angry.

He felt strangely numb, no extreme emotion besides the need for vengeance surfaced. Maybe he was nervous, maybe his conscious was pleading with him, begging him not to do this. Maybe his heart was screaming at him, crying out to him shamelessly, begging him not to break his promise to Lily.

And perhaps he was simply ignoring his inner battle, pushing it back so that he won't have to wrestle with his conscious which was trying to steer him back into the right direction.

But he would never admit that - not here, not now, and certainly not when he's caught in the middle of a situation such as this.

So ignoring the inner turmoil, he walked away. His boots lowly clunked against the ground as he walked carefully out of the apartment. He didn't want to stir Lily from her sleep. Though she slept in her bedroom and he slept on the couch, the walls were thin and the door to exit her apartment screamed louder than stray cats in heat.

He cursed himself as he opened the door, remembering that he had forgotten to buy WD-40 to cure the loud squeak it produced.

If he had awakened Lily, he needed to leave in a hurry. He did just that and crept out of the door and into the darkness of the hallways where he slunk silently against the walls.

When he finally made it out of the apartment building, he breathed a fresh air of relief. He had made it out without Lily knowing and without drawing any attention to himself.

The old bullet wound ached in his chest, and he gently clutched at it. It was as if his heart was calling to him, beckoning not to set off on this journey, which made him greatly confused. He had never cared before. He had never cared when he was about to take - whether that taking be material items such as drugs and food, or life - such as human beings.

So why now?

The man that doesn't even deserve to be called father possibly deserved the worst punishment in Colton's mind. So why is it that suddenly, he's doubting himself? That suddenly, a heavy feeling is making his heart sink?

He didn't understand it.

He couldn't even fathom a reason and he was angry with himself. As he jogged towards the place where his father called home, he ridiculed himself for becoming too soft and too sensitive. Even now, in the midst of his own inner turmoil, he can't help but feel a little bit of shame for crying so much in front of Lily.

He was angry and frustrated because he felt like a changing man. He had his eyes set on change and now he was backtracking?

No, you're seeking a just revenge. You're not backtracking but helping yourself. Besides, once he is dead and gone then you can go back to changing. He told himself.

But he wasn't sure if he was completely convinced.

* * *

He couldn't believe it.

He was standing outside the house his father lived in. For the first time in over twenty years, he would be standing face to face with his father. Would he look the same? Would he recognize his own son?

Probably not.

Last time his father had seen him he was a tiny little boy who stood just above his knee in height. Wide, childish blue eyes and features of the child he once was had vanished. He looked down at his hands, opening his fingers and staring at his palms as he remembered himself as a child.

These very same hands held that little blue blanket for comfort. He could still feel its softness and the way it seemed to hug him back as he buried his little face and cried into it countless nights after his father had beaten him into nothing.

These very same hands that learned to fight. That learned to survive. That learned to kill.

That learned to love.

And here he was, standing at the door of the house which held a monster even worse than he was.

And he was ready to make these hands kill again.

The home was small he noticed. There was a small patch of dying lawn that lined the sidewalk. Brick steps led to the front door which had only the screen shut and locked across it. It was warming up so it wasn't uncommon for those who lived in safer communities to sleep with their windows open with nothing more than a screen on.

Colton whipped out his pocket knife and didn't hesitate to slice through the screen and barge right in. The home was dark, he assumed his father was sleeping since it was late - or perhaps now in the early morning hours.

He growled in anger. He wanted his father to be awake so he could look him in the eyes. He wanted to see his face, to see his reaction.

He wanted to watch those soulless eyes plummet into the depth of ultimate destruction as he took the breath from his lungs. He wanted to see the lifeblood drain away and walk away as his father breathed his last.

He wanted to turn his back on him just like his father had done when the situations were switched.

He boldly switched on the lights to the living room and grumbled when the blaring lights burned his eyes. Once they adjusted, though, he scanned the small, simple room. There wasn't much in the home, just a small box TV with large antennas and a beat up couch.

He walked down the hallways, not even caring that he was walking loudly. Let the whole damn world hear what I'm about to do, he thought.

The hallway split off into two rooms. One door was closed on the left and the other door was cracked open on the right. From there, he could see a figure in the dimmed room to the right bundled up in a small, rickety bed.

Colton pushed open the door.

His hand rested on the gun in his waistband and he stepped forwards.

The floor creaked under his feet but he still approached the sleeping figure in the bed. There was a small TV sitting on a dresser just at the end of the bed, and the TV displayed a screen of flickering static which helped Colton make out the features of his father.

His heart pounded in his ears and a cold sweat drenched him. He felt sick to his stomach when he looked at the man who broke him for the first time in over twenty years.

His hair was nearly all grey and he was balding. Even though his father would be in his early sixties now, he looked to be in his late seventies. Drugs and alcohol abuse had aged him vastly, but Colton knew that without a shadow of a doubt, that it was him.

His eyes shifted in his sleep and he noticed the many wrinkles etched into his skin. The eyelids blocked his cold eyes from view, and for a moment, Colton was tempted to just end him then and there so he wouldn't have to look at those eyes again.

But he decided against it.

Suddenly, as if sensing that somebody was looming over him, the man's eyes flew open. Colton stared down at him, becoming one with the darkness and letting a menacing grin fill his features.

His father gasped aloud and scrambled back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes as if in disbelief that there was a man in his room. Then, his fingers fumbled for the light switch of the lamp on the bedside table next to him.

The light clicked on and Colton saw those same dark eyes that once terrorized him. Only, his eyes weren't as dark anymore, they held emotion to them.

There was more to just fear in his eyes.

"Who are you?!" His father cried out, sounding pathetic and terrified. His voice shook and Colton couldn't help but feel powerful to be on the other end.

"How does it feel to be trapped in a corner and terrified?" Colton patronizes, lifting his gun up and holding him at gunpoint.

"P-please, take anything you want! I'll give you anything j-just ask." His father begged desperately for his life.