Capítulo 53: [LII] - Apopthosis
"I'm not going to be taken into the void with you." — Icto yelled, pinned to the ground by his agitated opponent.
Paul was clenching his fists and targeting the head of the person below him, yet couldn't land a strong punch. The violet-haired man was taller and built better, it wasn't a problem for him to defense. Still, the infuriated moves of Paul were hard to withstand. So, they rolled on the harsh ground, squeezing each other's limbs, spitting in their eyes with words that were slowly becoming muffled.
Why do I feel like... Even if I inferred in all of this, nothing would come out.
"You're a fucking fraud! Loser!" — Paul's blue eyes changed into an insanely bright ice color. They were widely opened, with the irises being only two little dots.
On the other side, Icto's face was crossed with rage, his eyebrows frowned in a deep arch, his lip stained with a strike of blood. Both of their faces were deeply bruised, as if all of the accumulated feelings of both men were now finally let out.
Just how much do they know about each other, what I don't?
Why... Why are they doing this to each other? Just why?
What's the real purpose, being covered by my person to be the fault of.
Was I really to blame, while the hate towards each other was flaming through their bodies and actions.
Every strike, every punch. They had a meaning I couldn't understand.
Why would they fight like that...?
"Do you enjoy watching us beat each other to death? Is this what you wanted?" — A voice suddenly asked me.
It was Paul's, being weighed down to the ground by the body of Icto sitting on the black-haired's back. He locked his arms in a tight grip, so it seemed like he couldn't do anything more. The clumps of his coal hair were covering his pale face, yet I could still see the two of his glowing eyes beam through them.
"...W-What?" — I stuttered with a wobbly voice, through the tears that were unconsciously falling on my face.
My entire body was shaking from the strange feeling I felt at that moment. A heavy stone being shot straight through my fast beating heart.
I could feel both of our gazes meet.
"...You're asking me... Such things..." — I exhaled loudly, trying to grip in some fresh air. But it only stung me from inside even more. — "...Maybe we really don't know each other at all."
Wiping my running nose, I wanted to let it all out from inside me. The boiling rage and pain. Two of my best friends fighting right before me, and me being paralyzed with fear and uselessness, not being able to do anything. Not even tell any words, having deep in my mind that they will be to no use. No one will believe me. Large gasps of air were leaving my body, as the vision became obscured and stingy.
I covered my eyes with my shivering hands, not wanting to watch this anymore. Repeating the same question over and over, I felt cold and alone. Why was it that I wanted this. I didn't.
This place, I wanted to just escape from it instinctively.
The purple-haired man's body was settling on the other's man back, with both of their strength visibly disappearing.
The hair of both of them were hanging down toward the cold ground, two of them paralyzed in silence, being occasionally disturbed by the quiet wailing of the girl nearby.
It was as if both of them felt the despair she had in her voice, a power pinning one's limbs to the earth, not being able to lift them up. The burning ache in the throat, the vice clamping the temples, the tension was slowly dissolving in the vast space around them.
The purple hair of the one man moved low enough for the other one to feel its silk texture on his neck. Icto lowered his head loosely, and whispered in the other's ear:
"Never show yourself again. Do it for her." — His words could be heard only by two of them.
The other one remained coldly silent.
"Let's go away from here." — The purple-haired man announced loudly, hoping for the girl to hear him.
And I did.
I wiped out the tears flowing from my eyes. He stood up from the strangled body of his opponent. So, was he a winner, then?
Knowing Paul, he must feel terrible. His pride, it was crumbled to pieces. He didn't even lift his head from the concrete ground.
I feel... So horrible.
I... Don't want to leave him... Here like that.
I... want to stay.
So, why...
But then, in the moment that lasted shorter than a millisecond. Faster than the blink of an eye, I could see his petrifying gaze once again.
An image of two gems glowing with ominous light, beneath a swinging fringe of black hair.
A pale face, in the color of the full moon.
I felt my hand being squeezed in a grasp tighter than anything I ever knew.
Just as the violet color of Icto's hair swooshed before my eyes, with his almond eyes opened widely like two buttons, I sensed a small metal object shove through the air next to me. A sniper rifle bullet.
Being followed by a loud noise, it pierced my ears as it hit the column behind us.
"Stop them immediately!" — An unknown voice came from the corner of the hall, echoing in the grand space.
Then a dozen of steps emerged loudly, circling around me, making me nauseous. The piercing shots were entangling us like a spider web, each time coming closer and closer.
And my hand, it was being strangled to the point no blood could come in, by a slim hand of the black-haired man. It was boiling hot, wet from the blood of his opponent, with his fingernails like hooks grasping into my skin, as if never wanting to let go of me again.
The whole world appeared as if in slow-motion. I watched a group of armed men, in navy blue, swarm the place we were at. Shining googles were covering their eyes, I wish I could see their glares right now.
I bet they weren't as confused as all three of us. Me, Paul and Icto, who was standing at the same place, staring at my dragged body.
As Paul pulled my body forcefully with him, I asked myself the last question.
Why do I have to choose?
"I want you to live. Please, don't let go of my hand! Run!" — Paul shouted, as he rushed towards the other end of the grand space. His voice shivered, as if a strike of sadness suddenly stroke him.
I want to live too.
I want all of us three to live.
I don't want any more of this... hate.
As I rushed behind him, the tears were being swept off my face from the air.
"Paul. Did you really kill... Them all?!" — I cried behind his back.
But he only tightened the grip on my hand. I couldn't understand if it was an approval, or the opposite.
"Please. Don't hurt anyone anymore..." — My words were being thrown by the wind. I hope he heard them.
I didn't want anyone to get in danger because of his homicidal rushes. Since I've known him, he was always a dark person. Behind those eyes, lied an unknown world I didn't get to meet, yet only heard stories.
Being pulled by him right now, with bullets flying around my head, I was incredibly frightened. Why did they find us here? Who are they after?
All I wanted, right now, was to get safely out of here.
I glared at the place where Icto was standing, expecting him to be fleeing from this place just as we were.
But, the sight that I witnessed, it filled me with dark astonishment.
I didn't see his sight at all.
Where...
„Stay where you are!" — The soundwave of a strong voice hit be in the face.
Before us, from the passage in the corner of the hall, silhouettes of other armed men emerged. The exit, which Paul probably wanted to escape with, was blocked with an entire group of threatening soldiers.
I sensed his pulse over the melting grip, his heart was beating like a machine gun. Second by second, his skin was becoming more and more sweaty, his arm shaking with anxiety.
He was pulling me behind him, taking turns after turns around the pillars supporting the ceiling. The dust exploding in the air behind us was slowly filling the space, as every route Paul took, had unexpected obstacles appearing before us.
I couldn't see his face, yet I felt it growing tired and being weighed with despair. His movements were getting chaotic, steps were becoming more sloppy. My body, being dragged by him, was only an unnecessary weight, slowing him down.
And when he finally saw a small space between the columns, which could provide a passage to the nearest exit, the glimpse of hope arising in his heart was broken by a one pull.
The loudest shot of them all. The fastest one, too. A precise sniper rifle bullet.
It pierced through the wrist of the arm he was holding me with.
I could feel the pain emanating from the place he was shot. Or maybe it was my skin screaming from the moment he let me finally go.
He let off a single, but long howl, as the blood splashed out of his wound. His steps slowed down, as did the time around us.
But I couldn't stop to help him right now.
Seeing his pale face grimacing in immense pain, there was nothing I could do. I could only grab him and pull with all of my strength. We didn't have time for looking over a wound.
Nothing would come out of it, if we didn't make it out alive from here.
"Run Paul! Please, RUN!" — My yells we're mixing with the screams of the bullets.
For a moment, I forgot everything he was accused of. Seeing him dissolve in pain, I remembered all the struggles we've been through.
Observing from the side, it is my job to record the moment of violence. Waiting for the RR to come and solve the matter, it always ended in a good manner. Nowadays, they don't even kill the officers, like they used to.
But when you're taking a direct part in something as horrible as this, there is this sense of forgiveness, making you realize that behind every action is a meaning. Behind every sad face, there is a reason.
I wanted both of us to get out. I was eager to catch a breath of the times when nothing awaited behind every corner. I wanted to hear everything from him and listen to the explanation.
I overtook him on the path he has slowed down on. My thought was to catch his arm and drag him outside.
As I almost caught him by his sleeve, to not lose him on the way.
But instead, something faster grabbed me from the front, and pulled before I could catch the black fabrics of his clothes.
As another precise shot struck through his ankle, there wasn't any more pain visible on his face from it.
When I was being pulled by a violet-haired man, against my will, towards the narrowing exit, Paul's expression has gone
void.
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