(no subject)
He sighs deep as his mind sends the message to his feet to get moving.
His face is in a permanent wince as he trudges his way up the sidewalk. The toes beneath him are numb as they drive him forward up the hill. Looming like a castle, the house stands daunting, intimidating. Everything else is a blur to him. The sky could come crashing down and he wouldn’t even think twice to duck for cover. Martirio, like a robot, like a machine, continues marching up the driveway. He decides to take a side approach the house, realizing the front door is as good as suicide. Careful to not make a sound, he slides the wrought-iron gate open as it makes a slight metal screech. He’s tiptoes and silent breath now as his shoes crush the gravel beneath him. Leaning on the brick wall of the house for support, he presses on. He takes a few more steps, his mind is blank, clean of thought. Coming around to the end of the wall, he becomes extra cautious. He leans forward and holds his breath as he checks around the wall for anyone, anything.
The backyard is silent.
Everything’s quiet like a graveyard, like the sound of something begging to happen.
Too quiet.
He comes to the white door at the back of the house leading to the kitchen and stands still for a moment. Reaching forward, he places his hand on the brass door handle and gently twists. He takes a deep breath in and sighs slow before quietly pushing the door open.
The energy of the night is in the air of the house, which spills all over him as he steps forward on to the tile floor. He walks by the refrigerator covered in pictures and magnet letters. The letters on the fridge spell out “git R done.”
Peering into the living room, his eyes spy Vegas and Bones passed out on the couch, both breathing heavily. They’re deep in a drug sleep, dead to the world. Not as dead as they could very well be.
The sight of the two makes Martirio’s heart speed up and burn in the red. As he tiptoes his way into the living room, his feet are soft on the carpet floor. Bones snores and rolls over, Vegas stays silent on his end of the couch. Martirio hold his breath as he walks by both of them, doing his best impression of a ghost. He’s a shadow moving across the wall as he reaches the base of the stairs.
Where is she?
He uses the handrail of the stairs to keep the bulk of his weight from the steps, to keep the steps from creaking. Eight steps up, he sees a light on in the bathroom but no noise.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he focuses his everything on getting to the door. His footsteps resound on the hollow upstairs floor. He trying to be weightless, empty. Upon arrival, he stands at the door as if waiting for Mary to come out and fall into his arms.
But there’s only the sound of nothing.
Nothing at all.
He presses his ear against the door and can hear the faint sound breathing.
It must be her.
He takes a few deep breaths before putting his hand on the door handle and slowly turning.
Everything in his life has led to this one moment, this door being opened closing all the other doors of his past.
This is it.
He pushes the door open and there she is.
Slit wrists and all.
Beautiful Bloody Mary.
Martirio’s jaw hits the floor and his heart immediately does the same.
“What the fuck…” he whispers beneath his breath.
He can’t believe this is happening.
How did this happen? Why?