(no subject)
Martirio's head is at home here in the dark. He'd rather not see the inside of the back of this van, strictly for the sake of whatever sanity he's got left in him. The colorless void here in the back seat blurs all their faces into anonimoty. The Devil sits without his mask on, breathinig hard and steady.
His breath grows heavier.
No, louder.
Martirio, in his blindess, begins to believe he's hallucinating.
When, within a moment, it ceases.
"Before I let you go, there's something I must confess to you, son."
Martirio feels fear flood through his body.
"I just cant let you get away so easily. Not a second time."
With bated breath, Martirio awaits his death.
"Business is business, or so they say. And no good deed ever goes unpunished."
And with those words, there came a bright light. A blinding light imparting it's brilliance upon Martirio's blindfolded eyes.
When the light was gone, Martirio exhaled a long hiss of a sigh and fell to his side.
Retrieving his knife from Martirio's side, the Devil holds Martirio steady.
Quickly, he cleans the blade of blood and places it away in the dark, still holding Martirio as he shakes in pain.
He breathes slowly, shaky, like asthma's got him by the lungs.
"I stabbed you clean in your side at a straight angle. None of your vitals have been damaged but I'm sure that doesn't matter to you as the pain is blindingly excrutiating."
Still keeping Martirio upright, like a pupeteer, the Devil sighs almost in sympathy for the boy.
"If you have any unfinished financial or personal connections tied to that house...the border is straight down this street."
The van screeches to a hault and then there's the click of car door locks unlocking. Then, soft like a feather on your skin, the cold catches Martirio's skin. The doors open, and it's cold in the desert as his skin cracks under the weight of the wind.
"I suggest you get runnng."
Martirio, his whole body thrown like a fish out of water, flies to a fall on the Mexican pavement.