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Breathless	By : xCookingWinex Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Aiden Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Aiden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Sorry it’s been a while,
yet again. I’ve been busy, weirdly haha so I haven’t had much time to think about this.
But I’m back on track now, heading towards the end. Trust me, it gets better!
Chapter 19
I’m a bastard. A complete bastard. Why did I say that? Why did I have to mess it up so soon?
The streets were cold and empty, and occasionally a car would rumble by. Wil shivered slightly as he walked. Slowly, he started to sweat more and more, shake more and more, until it hit him like a ton of bricks.
I need a hit.
He picked up his pace and practically ran to Jake’s. He knocked on the door, Jake himself answering. Wil wondered if he ever slept.
“Hey grave digger,” he smirked. “Back so soon?”
“I need a hit, Jake.”
Jake turned from the door and walked away without saying a word, and Wil followed blindly. He followed Jake into the kitchen, where he had sat at the table in the middle of the room.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well what?”
“Where’s the money, William? You know I don’t do things for free.”
Wil patted his pockets, but felt nothing.
“Ah shit, I must have spent my pay already …”
My date with Alyn. How could I forget? I must have spent all I had.
“No hit for Wil tonight then,” he leered unsympathetically.
“Come on Jake, I know you’ve got some crack spare – I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“Promises around here are about as useful as a chocolate teapot, bud.”
“Please Jake, I’ll do anything.”
“Suck my cock.”
“What?”
“You said you’d do anything!” he said, his seriousness soon turning to laughter. “Only kidding, I’m no queer. Look, I’ve been having trouble with this guy over on Madison and Ninth. His name’s James Monroe, lives at 168. I’d sort him out myself, but, well, I have better things to do with my time than chase up some idiot like that. Plus, that’s why I keep you guys around.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Jake reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a hand gun, “Ever used one of these before?”
Wil stared, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Uh – no ... I haven’t.”
“It’s pretty easy. Just like using a water pistol or something. Here.” He got up from the table, shoving it in Wil’s hand.
“Where did you –”
“I wouldn’t ask where I got it from, because I’m not going to tell you.”
Wil took a step back. “What do you want me to do?”
“Ruffle a few feathers, you know, shake him up a bit.”
“So, no killing?”
“My my, Wil! Eager are you? Well, kill if you want to – no skin off my nose.”
“No, I don’t –”
“You got my hopes up now! You or him, Wil. You don’t kill him, I’ll kill you. Deal?”
He nodded slowly, the weight of the gun growing heavier in his hands as he stood there. He turned away and walked towards the door, his mind crumbling.
“Oh and Wil,” Jake called him and chucked a small bag of white powder at him, “You forgot this.”
**
It took him ages to find the right street and the right house. Part of him thought he was just putting it off – he didn’t want to find this guy. He didn’t want to kill anyone … but then he didn’t want to die either.
Thanks Jake, you asshole.
He knocked on the brown, worn in door of house 168. It was at the end of the street, next to the road. Wil stood facing away from the cars streaming passed.
The door opened a crack, and a middle aged man with a crew cut poked his head out.
“What you want?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Um – er – are you alone?” Wil asked, trying to gain some composure.
“Yeah … Who are you?”
“Wolfe sent me.”
The man’s eyes filled with terror, and Monroe tried to slam the door on Wil, but he got his foot in first.
“Uh uh Mr Monroe, I’ve been sent to settle the score. Let me in.”
The man obliged, letting Wil into his dark, yet strangely welcoming, home.
“You got a basement?”
“Yes, through that door,” the man pointed at a closed door under the stairs.
“Take me there. Now.”
The man nodded again, hurrying to open the door. Eventually he got in, and led Wil down a staircase, flicking on a light as he passed.
When they reached the bottom, Wil ordered the man to sit against the wall, while he looked around. Normal things you’d find in the basement, he figured. Paint, old pictures, tools.
“So,” he started. “You’re in trouble, huh?”
“Tell Wolfe I’ll get his money, just please don’t hurt me!” the man crawled across the floor to Wil, reaching out for his foot, and before a logical thought could come to his mind, Wil got the gun out and aimed it at Monroe.
“I wouldn’t touch me if I were you.”
“Come on man, I know you don’t want to do this, please, I’ve got so much to live for. I know there’s some good on you, please, don’t do this!”
Wil stared at the pathetic man pleading for his life on the floor. Jake’s voice came into his head.
You or him, Wil. You don’t kill him, I’ll kill you.
He aimed. Holding his breath, he fired.
A deathly silence fell in the room. Smoke arose and dust settled.
“You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of this state.”
The man trembled, visibly shaken by the bullet landing inches from his head.
“One …”
Monroe jumped to his feet, looking around for the door, feeling disorientated. When he saw the way out, he quickly sprinted, looking back at Wil one last time.
“Thank you,” he choked.
“I ever see your face around here again, you won’t have one left. Get the fuck out, and be quiet about it.”
He nodded quickly, running back up the stairs.
He wasn’t going to come back.
Wil sat down, staring at the dent in the floor where the bullet ricocheted. Inches to the left and that man would be dead.
He could be a husband, or a father, Wil reasoned with himself. He could have kids, he could even have grandkids. He just got mixed up with the wrong shit. He didn’t deserve to die.
But Wil thought he did. He would face whatever Jake brought to him, and he would face it with pride.
I know I did the right thing. And Alyn would be better off without me.
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Breathless