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August 13 - August 21, 2025
Friday, September 6, 2019. I, Christian Thomas Reeves, being of unsound mind and a broken spirit, declare this my last will and testament, as well as a goodbye.
There’s no business card indicating he hired a service to deliver them. Besides, he’d have to put in contact information and his whole thing is remaining anonymous.
When Christian was six years old, his parents were both murdered in front of him.
According to the police reports, they found him sitting in a puddle of his parent’s blood, and when the police asked him what happened, all he said was that a man with a gun ambushed his father and shot both of his parents in cold blood.
“It’s in case you ever need help,” he explains. I lift the chain to examine it. “The charm attached is a silent panic alarm. You turn it on by clicking it five times. You’ll feel it vibrate, and it will send me an alert with your exact location. If you press it, I’ll come. No matter what.”
“I don’t want to kill you, angel. I want to keep you all to myself. You’d better take off those rose-colored glasses and accept that the only place you belong is in my black heart.”
“I’m not strong enough to stay away from you. I couldn’t live with myself if someone came after you because of me.”
“I’m going to figure out who you are under there.” I tap his mask. “I don’t just mean your name.”
“They need to know what happens when they touch what’s mine, Elena. They’re going to convert religions, because they won’t be praying to God, they’ll be praying to me. Begging for my fucking mercy after I hunt them all down and show them the true meaning of fear.”
Okay, Mr. Silencer 🔪
“If you’re so concerned about my humanity, Elena, then reach into my soul and find it, because I’m not sure I have any left.”
Not killing them is a very important part of the equation for me. I like to play with my food.
I like taking my time with my victims. I enjoy the hunt just as much as I enjoy watching the life leave their eyes after I listen to them beg me for mercy.
I love making them feel helpless, like I felt all those years ago.
Can’t remember the last time someone had the balls to shoot me. Respect.
This is my favorite part. The part where they realize their fate is sealed with red duct tape, and I’ll be the last fucking thing they see on this earth.
“Welcome to the slaughterhouse, gentlemen.”
I stand in front of the carnage I just inflicted on five men for touching my angel, and I wish I was a good man. I wish I could say I felt any semblance of guilt, or remorse, or hell, even nothing. I’d take feeling numb over loving the taste of death. But what I feel when I kill can only be described as relief. Relief that the monster inside me has been fed and will recede back into his decrepit cave until he’s hungry again, and that’s when I’ll kill next.
I’ve never cared about making a difference in Meridian City. I’ve only ever cared about becoming a ruthless god amongst men. I
wanted control. I wanted the scum of this city to feel helpless as I wring their fight from their necks.
It’s a shame I’m already destined for Hell, because it’s not where angels belong. But I’m not going anywhere without her.
As I watch Elena sleep, I finally understand Caroline’s drawing. Safe isn’t a place. It’s the people that love you.
“What if I want you to break me?” I ask, my eyes not leaving his. “What if I don’t want you to be gentle?” “Then I’ll love you violently instead.”
“I love you.” I say through gritted teeth, her hair wrapped tight around my fist. “I love you so much it makes me insane. I love you so much it makes me dangerous. I love you so much that I would burn this world for you and all the people in it just to keep you all to myself. Do you understand me? If it comes down to a choice, you will choose me. I don’t give a fuck if it costs the remainder of your soul. You are mine and only mine.”
“And I think for the right price, she’d hand over Elena on a silver platter to the highest bidder.”
A rush of emotion envelops me, and I begin to cry. Not because I’m sad. I’m crying because I’m relieved. I feel like a new person. I feel like a survivor.
“I’m going to burn this fucking world to the ground just to get some goddamn peace.”
I nod, looking up at him from under my lashes. “Let’s burn it together.”
“I think that’s the harsh reality of being a woman,” my mother continues, “we’re always so focused on everyone else, that we forget we need to take care of ourselves, too.”
With a shaky breath, I hold the handkerchief to my face, hug her to my chest, and weep with the angels.
