Chapter Four - Self Worth

Nothing was ever glamorous about death; I knew that. I had no other reason to believe otherwise as Paul stared at me with his lifeless eye. No matter how hard I tried, his blood wouldn't come off my hands. I thought those prying neighbors would leave me alone after watching me for so long, but apparently, they had some words of wisdom.

"You should be glad."

"You always felt jealous of him."

"He had everything you didn't."

As much as I don't want to admit it, they weren't wrong. I knew I was selfish for thinking about my family, for severing him as an afterthought. He had his own family and demons to take care of, yet here I am in his place. It made my stomach churn, but not as much as the old man cackling in the conductor's room.

"So, how does it feel to be one of us, Mr. Kita?" The old man gloats, rattling the entire cabin. "Admit it. You would have gotten him killed in the line of duty, regardless of what happened right now. You've never protected anything other than your family, but you know how that went."

"Shut the hell up!" I snap, flinging Paul's gun at the door's glass pane with as much strength as I could muster, which I almost regret since it came straight back to me. "I did as you asked, so give me back my family!"

I couldn't even look inside the cabin. Aside from the blood staining the glass scarlet, it was too dark to make out anything other than the blinking of the control panel. Moving Paul's body out of the way and forcing my way in wouldn't be a challenge, but part of me doesn't want to try. That fish-like stare in his eyes makes me think he'll lunge at me at any moment.

"Now, now… Not so fast, Mr. Kita. You still have more to do." He says. "Nobody said rent is that cheap."

"But, she said-" I try to plea, but get immediately cut off.

"No such thing!" He snaps, lulling the neighbors into silence. "You need to remember the finer details in life and learn to follow orders. Something you failed to do when she handed you the book."

"So, it's my fault that she strung me up without handing me the book?" I sneer, trying to fight back the urge to throw caution to the wind and force my way inside. "Is everything I've done up until now have been for nothing?"

It felt like I had to force out those last words as the bullet hole in my shoulder throbs. I needed just a bit of confirmation that the proud echoes of my family had a foundation, anything to prove that I had worth. I didn't want to be stuck in this endless loop of torment any longer.

"Hardly," he sighs. "The… community service you've done has been a tremendous help, don't get me wrong here. But, you must realize that nothing in life is free. To breathe life into your family, a sacrifice must be made."

"I assume you're referring to Paul?" I gulp, his words calming me down a bit as I run my hands along my arms in a feeble attempt to quell the goosebumps.

"Not just Paul, but the custodian as well." He chuckles. "So, tell me, where does that leave your contract?"

"Just… one. Just one more person." I choke as soft realization settles in.

Trading off Paul might have been steep, yet there was still a chance to make amends. My brother had a pure heart, so in a sense, it'd be a fresh start. The custodian was a murderer and would have committed other atrocities if I hadn't stepped in. My parents weren't always perfect; nevertheless, they were miles above him in every shape and form.

"That look on your face suits you better. Dwelling too much on past relations fogs your mind." He says. "Now, go. Turn back the clock and head back. The librarian is waiting in the previous cabin."

A part of me was begging not to leave as my gun sat on the ground. It was telling me the moment I went through those doors and talked to the librarian, it'd lead my mind into a spiral, yet I still swiped my gun off the floor and holstered it as I took the first step. Even my body was protesting, legs numbing to the point I had to use the wall as support, leaving a thin trail of blood on the glass. Coming face to face (Or, more appropriately, eye to eye) with the neighbors just made me want to leave faster.

Their eyes told me they saw this as entertainment. Nothing more than a Saturday night special with live commentary. It made me disgusted to think about it, but the line between them and me has been thinning each time we meet. Luckily once I flung myself into the previous cabin and shut the door, their backhanded compliments ceased.

"And, here I thought I was a monster." The librarian giggles as she stands off to the side, nonchalantly reading the book she tried to give me. "So innocent, yet so dangerous."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" I scoff, still having a hard time getting a grip over my legs.

"Should you still be cynical, killer?" She smirks, milking out the last ounce of patience I had. "It's what you are, isn't it?"

"Look here, I only did it for…!" I cut myself short as I grew lightheaded and nearly banged my head on the support pole.

My breaths were shallow, too shallow to be my anxiety spiking up. While I wasn't bleeding profusely, the way, it worked in tandem with my growing fatigue made for a nasty surprise. How long has it been since I've gotten actual sleep? Or, better yet, when was the last time I felt hungry?

"You shouldn't have strained yourself, Grey." She chastises as I try to staunch the blood. "Stressing over the little things will get you killed."

"Little, huh?" I huff, meeting her gaze head-on as she shuts the book. "What part was little about it? As you said, I'm dangerous, aren't I?"

"Naïve too, it seems." The librarian says, rolling her eyes in disgust. "If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken that bravado for narcism."

"Why's that?"

"When I said you were dangerous, I meant to yourself. You're like a ticking time bomb threatening to self-destruct at a moment's notice." She says as she saunters up to me, holding the book tightly to her chest. "Then again, who wouldn't be unstable after willingly killing their friend without a second thought?"

"You take that fucken…!" I held back since it felt like I'd be playing into her words. "Tch, just… Just tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do."

Even if I had a decent argument, I'd just be fighting an uphill battle. It came down to whether I believed I was fucked up when I already knew the answer. I was practically using her as an anchor to vent on, and she was milking out my reactions for every ounce it was worth.

"Awww… That's no fun." She teases, wagging a finger in my face. "But, if you haven't guessed, we're coming to a stop soon."

"Define… soon." I frown as I look out the window, seeing the searing lights zip past.

"Oh, I don't know." She hums, quickly backpedaling into a cluster of tendrils that suddenly sprang from nothing and cloak her in a veil of darkness. "Give or take any moment now."

"Hey, where do you think you're going? Come-" I stammer before the screeching of metal deafens my voice, and I'm sent flying.

I could just close my eyes in horror as the walls compressed, crushing my bones. In that instant, nothing registered aside from the thought of wanting to breathe. As much as I desperately tried, being unable to tell whether I was sucking down air made it difficult. It made me envious that Paul had a cleaner death than this.

At the very least, it gave me a deeper understanding of my family. From how much pain they were in to the wild emotions spiraling through their heads. While regrets would have been running high, thinking about leaving me alone would have been the last thing on their minds. Heh, the damn librarian might have been on to something when she called me a narcissist.

Laughter?

As soon as that thought rang through, my senses went into overdrive, splitting my head open just to tell me to breathe. My body was still here, living in the moment of clawing at a cold floor I couldn't see. I was still alive. In pain, but it was better than the latter.

I didn't even need to open my eyes to realize I was in the accursed room again due to the familiar stench of stale air. Although, when my eyes snapped open, I wasn't expecting the walls to be painted in a peculiar shade of blood red. To make it stranger, the holes looked like they had recently plugged up with plaster, aside from the one drilled by the old man.

"I think I much preferred the old style." I thought aloud, trying to incite anything to break the silence, but heard nothing after waiting a few moments.

My gaze darted everywhere, expecting the neighbors to pop into existence at any moment, their eyes fresh in my memory. Not knowing where they were or left to unnerved me. The faint ticking of the grandfather clock didn't help either. I wanted out as soon as possible, instinctively going to the door.

Right as I lay my hand on the doorknob, though, the room began to rattle violently. Trying to stay upright was practically impossible, so I ended up having to hug the door for a bit of footing. With the constant shifting, it was only a matter of time before the door flung open. Still, seeing an endless void beckon me on the other side of the door made everything come to a standstill.

Taking a leap of faith into the darkness sounds like suicide, but being in this volatile hellhole isn't any better. If this glorified prison is meant to tempt me to stay, then it's failed. Idleness is not a way to live, especially when I've already gone off the deep end and can't stop tumbling.

Falling into the darkness, it felt like I was a stone cast into a tidepool, circling endlessly. Weaving away just seemed to drag me further until the light no longer penetrated, where I couldn't make out my hands if I wanted to. After falling for so long, my eyes drooped shut for a second, and I accidentally drifted to sleep. In that moment of realization, I snap back to reality and immediately regret it, with the transition to light burning my eyes.

Once the colors blended back together, I was staring into a flickering tube lamp hung high on a rotten corrugated metal roof. From the looks of it, the only thing keeping the ceiling up are vents and air conditioning units that wind around in a maze-like grid.

"Soon, she says… I guess she wasn't entirely wrong about that." I sigh as I stand up and look around.

Surrounding me were aisles upon aisles of clothing with no common sense in terms of organization. Most of the racks were toppled over, blocking off a majority of the clear pathways and creating small crawlspaces in between. I didn't have to be a detective to know that this was a department clothing store. Emphasize on 'was' since there was a substantial accumulation of dust and cobwebs blanketing the store.

I couldn't make out any clear exit anywhere. Whether that was because of the dim lighting playing tricks on me, the place reminded me of the endless library. Aside from that, nothing really stood out as odd until I saw what was hidden between each pile of clothes. Tattered mannequins, specifically female versions, oddly glamorized with heavy dabs of make-up.

The expressions on their faces were rather uncanny, coming off more like life-like dolls than mannequins. The way they surrounded and looked at me with their lifeless eyes didn't make me feel any better either; it just made my hand rest heavier on my empty gun for comfort. I got a little closer to one of them, inspecting the more refined details when the plastic from its eye suddenly peeled off, revealing a human eye beneath. Out of fear, I drew my gun and almost pistol-whipped it but barely stopped myself when I noticed the other mannequins had moved.

They stood right behind me, frozen in time. When did the mannequins sneak up on me? Did my thoughts absorb me that much, or have my senses dulled? If these mannequins are already this fast, why haven't they attacked?

I could see their eyes scan me, looking at me with the same amount of intent as the neighbors. I was just entertainment. They had the capabilities to kill me in an instant, yet they chose against it. Is God really omnipotent if it needs a third-party member to garner strength?

As those thoughts settle in, I slip my gun back in its holster in high hopes that they'd commit. When the mannequins didn't come at me, I drew a connection between them and the neighbors. Just like the neighbors, they aren't meant to be the deterrent; more like the active viewer of a late-night talk show acting as the driving force. But, what separates them from the old man and librarian?

Suddenly, the mannequins sprang back to life, plastic splintering from their limbs as they huddled together in the walkway. Tangled like that monster in the library, they point at the hallway and shudder in delight as the heavy clacking of boots could barely be heard. Adjusting my gaze to the light, I just made out a figure darting into a rack of clothes while limbs of other mannequins gave pursuit. The only thing standing between my family and me.

Pushing away doubt, I join the pursuit and barrel past the mannequins. Clambering past the thick sheets of clothes, that doubt was soon replaced by desperation as my heart pounded. Blood was seeping down my sleeve again as the bullet hole tore open, but I didn't want to stop as a different pursuit happening in my mind. The anxiety caught up to me.

"Run faster."

"Don't let those mannequins beat you."

"You don't want to know what'll happen if you fail, right?"

My breaths were running ragged as beads of sweat stung my eyes. I knew I was getting the bare minimum amount of air as my lungs wrung out my throat for air. I didn't even notice myself coming to a snail's pace until one of the mannequins sped past me. So, I stuck the tip of my tongue and hoped to God that I don't accidentally severe too many arteries the moment I slam my chin into my palm.

In an instant, all I could see was red spilling out of my mouth. It didn't even register at first until the weight of the sliver stretched off the last piece of flesh it was using and hit the floor, twitching. That's when the pain kicked in, and I let out a blood-curdling scream that stopped the mannequins entirely in their tracks. Now, I couldn't focus on anything but the pain.

"F-ucking… piece of… shit!" I groan as I cough out blood.

All of the mannequins were looking my way with that same deadpan stare. If they had time to gawk, did they already finish off that person? But, soon, I realized that wasn't the case as the heavy clacking of boots came to a halt right behind me.

As much as I'd like to cry from pain, the heartache I saw in those familiar amber eyes hurt more. It was my boss, Jane.

"They promised you something too, huh? Damn," she sighs as she looks away.

Even though she left the military years ago, Jane's daily routines stayed the same, and her sun-kissed athletic body was proof. While she doesn't say anything about it, I knew she liked to carry a concealed handgun in her loose-fitted jeans and is an expert shooter from her outings to the range. Yet, it's clear her experience has been reduced to ash since her gun was reduced to a bludgeoning tool.

Blood was gleaming off her gun's handle, a fresh kill since the blood hadn't caked on the stainless steel finish. She tried to tuck it behind her back, but she failed to realize she was flaunting her own mistakes. Her jacket was torn to shreds like mine, blood staining what was left of them.

"How' you know?" I grimly ask as my tongue burns after accidentally flicking it against the roof of my mouth.

"Well… I reckon you talked with that old man?" Jane snickers as she runs a hand through her choppy brown hair.

I reluctantly nod in response, turning her expression mournfully sour. It gave me enough time to draw my gun and quickly step back from her. Unexpectedly, she refused to move an inch, looking betrayed.

"I've killed many people, Gray. I never regretted pulling the trigger to protect things I loved." She says as she shakes her head and assumes a fighting stance. "But, today was the day, I guess… I couldn't stomach it."

I had to spit out blood before asking, "Did you see Ashley too?"

"Paul as well," Jane laughs hysterically. "They… They both died by my hands. I killed them."

The revelation shocked me to my core. How could she kill Paul when I shot him? The blood on my hands was proof enough, so there's no way she'd be able to. Was she talking about the librarian or the actual Ashley? I threw out Ashley's name just to tell myself that my delusions had weight to them, yet she claims she killed her.

The fact there wasn't anything to disprove her claim made me go quiet. I couldn't fathom the trials and attributions she had to endure. What is she fighting for?

"Tell me… What does it mean to be human?" Jane asks as she takes one step forward, and I take two steps back.

"… To find something to live for," I reply.

"Ha… That so?" She scoffs with a click of the tongue, tensing up to pounce. "Only if it were that easy. Neither of us would be in this mess."

As soon as she steps in, she raises her shoulder and pulls back her arm for a wind-up. Once I saw it, I waited to catch the strike but over anticipated and paid the price. Jane took full advantage of my rookie mistake, dropping low and tackling me into a rack of clothes, pinning me to the ground. Untangling from the clothes wasn't an issue; the real problem was trying to get a footing.

With clothes under me, bumping her off was like rolling in mud, only made more complicated when she laced her legs with mine. Fighting on my back wasn't my style, and it must have been painfully obvious when the mannequins started chattering. In between the thunderous wailing my arms were taking, the chattering of the mannequin's limbs sounded like laughter, and it pissed me off.

In the heat of the moment, I grabbed Jane's wrist without thinking about it and ended up not knowing what to do with it, just mindlessly trying to wrestle the gun away. While I was successful, she didn't let up, quickly pushing my hands aside and wrapping a shirt around my neck like a noose.

"Don't give me that look! Just go to sleep!" She begs as I desperately kick and tug.

Giving up on fighting the shirt, I grab her collar and drag her close enough to spit blood into her eyes.

"Son of a…!" She hisses as she frantically rubs her eyes, loosening her grip by a fraction.

Not wanting to let my advantage slip, I twist her collar, giving me enough leverage to slam my head into her nose and reverse the situation. Quickly ripping off the shirt, I wrap it around my hand and load my entire weight into my swing. Jane didn't react in time, barely covering her face as she took each blow head-on. After the first few hits, I knew she was hardly unconscious, but I didn't stop out of fear.

I was so caught up in my head that I forgot about my own gun, just inches away. I could have ended it right then and there, yet for some reason, my hands went straight for her throat, and I wasn't holding back. I could see myself in her desperate eyes as her nails sunk deep into my arms, a monster without an ebb of reason to its life. Although in the last moments of her life, Jane had enough empathy to smile and wipe away a tear rolling down the monster's cheek that he knew nothing about.

"We… never had… the chance… to get sushi." Jane croaks out as her eyes droop and turn glossy.

"I'm sorry…." I mutter under my breath as the monster in the reflection sheds his skin and lets himself be human by weeping.