"The rusty determination"

Carter's POV:

Every love story has a beginning and an end.

Some are written in words; some are written as songs. The beginning is usually the sweet part, the end the bitter.

I put down the knife. I'll accept. Or... Not.

What if Dimir pulls out the knife on my throat again? Wasn't that what his plan originally was?

He leaned by the doorframe, watching. He had his arms crossed, I looked at him.

"So have you decided?" He asked, I looked away.

"What if you trick me?" I asked. He turned, smiling.

"Trick you? I have no use for tricking you, Miles." He stood up straight, holding his hand on the frame of the door as support.

I stood up.

"I don't trust you." I shoved him to the side, walking out.

"But come on! I didn't kill you last time, did I?" He smiled. I stopped, I was a few feet in front of him. I approached him.

"We're not children."

"I know." He smiled, again.

He grabbed a book from his pocket, tossing it over to me.

"I hope you like books, Miles." The book was the fantasy title I've read before. A book I loved once before.

"Where did you find it?" I asked, wiping the dust off of the cover. It gave me a lot of nostalgia. The nostalgia I forgot existed once.

I looked up. He had a dull look in his eyes. His eyes looked more dead than usual.

"You alright?" I asked, his eyes staring at the knife.

"Have you decided?" He asked me again, I sighed, sitting down.

"It's not even sunrise. It's around two hours till the sunrise, Dimir." I looked up at him. He looked away, turning. He walked towards the door.

"Then I'll come in two hours when you've made your decision." He walked out.

"But-" I started, noticing he was gone already.

This fucker. He gives me a day to trust him, and 12 hours to decide.

Is he counting how long I have to live now? How many days and hours till he puts a knife through my chest?

I glanced at my palms. They were red, sore.

I've overworked it again. But for survival, I have to. For my good, for his... Good, I have to.

My eyes felt heavy. I wanted to sleep. I laid down, decided to rest. Just a couple of hours of rest won’t be bad.

Hage’s POV:

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Just shut. Up.

She kept on ranting and ranting about some stupid thing I gave less of a shit about, but then again what was my saying and opinion in this?

None. Nothing. I just listened to her with a smile on my face, I was pissed off by her never-ending rant. How could she just rant so much and for so long? Did she have at least some self-respect?

Dimir nudged my shoulder, finally showing up after his 50th promise, that he’ll save me from this annoying bitch who always clung around me. I mean, she was a nice girl. But her bitchy attitude was making me sick already. She always complained about things that didn’t even make any sense, she always clung onto my shoulders as if I was her little fancy, an expensive bag of goods.

“Excuse us.” Dimir smiled at her and turned to me. He glanced at me, with that look.

That “look” that said, “We’re fucked.”

I knew Dimir that well that I understood that he fucked up something. I could sense his worry and his anxiety, judging by how fast he wanted us to go away from others, find a safe place to talk.

Alone, private. A place to talk it out, because both of us were involved in things that were none of our businesses, but just did it because of the pleasure it gave us. The pleasure of finally killing our boredom.

He walked down the hall, I just followed. We had this little secret room; it was a hidden storage room only a few knew about. Mostly used for things such as planning things, sometimes for other usages that I will not name.

He walked inside, locking the door. I sat down, crossing my arms, pulling out a cigarette, and putting it into my mouth.

“You shouldn’t smoke. It kills your lungs.” He frowned, leaning by the wall.

“Who said I will smoke this?” I rose an eyebrow, letting out a chuckle of mock upon him.

“..Whatever. I might’ve agreed to bring that Miles kid along with us.” He spoke. I looked up, taking the cigarette into my palm. I squeezed it, so all of the contains fell out into my palm. I blew it away, it stunk.

“You might’ve? What did he say?” I asked, rubbing my palm, it stung a little after all of the work we’ve had for the day.

“I don’t. Know. I told him he has it till sunrise. I gave him my knife to decide with.” He responded, biting his nails. Dimir was anxious.

I scoffed. A knife? Out of all things, a fucking knife?

“What if he turns on us? What if he-” I grabbed his wrist, sitting him down. His eyes were full of fear, Dimir was very anxious.

“It’s two against one, Dimir. That boy will not turn on us. He’s alone, he’s probably just waiting till his death in this shithole. Now take a deep breath and get yourself fucking together.” I spoke. Dimir closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling a couple of times. He opened his eyes, they still had a pinch of anxiety behind them, but the confidence and immatureness came back to his face.

“So- How do we push him towards agreeing? It’s obvious he’s useful.” He asked. I played with the wrapper of the cigarette, and opened my mouth to say what I thought of, but closed it again. I had no idea. No idea at all.

“Well. We could hold him at knifepoint.” I shrugged, Dimir’s eyes widened as he shifted uncomfortably on his chair.

“Knifepoint? That would just scare the guy away! We need to think- smart, not hard.” He let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Oh, come on. You’ve seen how that guy is. He’s tough. I’m sure he won’t just runoff.” I shrugged, smiling at him, whilst brushing the dust off of the box next to me. I looked at my finger that had the dust on it and rubbed it off.

“Or. We could propose a deal for him. We could... Always make his life more miserable here for the 2 hours. Would make him... More trusted that it would be a good choice he’d make, wouldn’t it?” I looked up. He finished speaking and smiled at me.

“Not a bad idea you’re proposing. But knifepoint sounds more... Mysterious.” I smiled, he just frowned.

“Look. No- No, that is NOT happening. We‘re not hurting a kid.” He crossed his arms. I scoffed, letting out a chuckle.

“You call almost a 25-year-old a kid? Man, you’re just old if he’s still a kid for you.” I smiled, and he kicked my foot with his.

“You get my point! I don’t want to hurt him.” He sighed, and I just shrugged.

“Fine. We’ll propose a deal for him that he won’t be able to decline. Maybe if he does, knifepoint will work!” I smiled and he kicked my ankle.

“Ow! What are you sour over again, you old bitch!” I frowned, rubbing my ankle. Dimir was years over years older than me. I always used to tease him by calling him grandpa, but I never meant it.

He was more like a father to me. Or an older brother that never seemed to get himself together.

“Come on. It’s breakfast soon.” I got up. He did too, walking out. I just followed.

Carter’s POV:

I never slept. I never got to close my eyes and rest. “Secret room” my ass.

I heard every single word they said. Every single thing they planned out to do with me. As if I was a bug or a thing that needed to be out of the picture, a plague, a pest.

I grabbed the knife. I accept, then.

I accept.

And I’ll finish it with a smile.

Finish them both.