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Abandoned Warehouse Atlanta, Georgia October 9, 2002 IT’S
NEVER EASY WATCHING SOMEONE DIE.
Especially when that someone is a blood relative, a sister – my
twin. I’ll never forget
this night - the night I watched my sister die for the second time.
I couldn’t save her. DAMN
IT! DAMN ROMEO!
NO
ONE SAW THE MAN IN THE SHADOWS,
the man with the gun. They searched for him for hours afterward. One
minute he was there, the next he was gone like a ghost.... or a friend. Logan
joined Chris, Romeo, on the other side of the room and watched as
he untied the ropes that bound Hope. “Hope?”
Logan crouched down beside her, the rope’s at her feet.
His bleached hair drenched with sweat and spotted with blood – Faith’s
blood. “Hope?”
She didn’t answer and there was a look of vacancy in her glassy
blue eyes. She had gone into
shock.
“I’m
sure he would like that." Logan turned his attention back to
Hope. “Why go home to a
teenage son who hates me when I have a daughter here that needs me.” Toni
envied their relationship. He
saw Hope as his daughter – and in a way she was, not by blood but by
choice. They had become a
family. Something she had -
once. Something she could
have again, if she was willing to try. A
spark of life filled Hope’s eyes, but only for a moment.
“love…her-.” Hope
had no clue she was even speaking, she was just rambling.
But her ramble struck a cord with Toni and tears began to well in
her big green eyes. “I’m
sorry.” She apologized. “Look
at me crying like a big baby.” She
sucked in a huge breath and wiped the tears from her eyes.
Tears
streaked down Toni’s face in a flood of emotion.
“I know what I have to do now.” Logan
still had his headset on. “This
was one bad scene. Lets take
a breather.” His head
filled with static, for a split second, from the headset. This
was such a thrill for Chris. Standing
amongst them. Working with
them. Listening to their
conversations – planning his next move. -
TWO MONTHS LATER -
John Ledger’s Residence Atlanta, Georgia December 19, 2002 USING
A RAZOR BLADE HE SCRAPED the white powder
across the glass surface of the coffee table into a neat line. This was all part of his ritual, the perfect high during the
perfect murder. He snorted
the cocaine, and shook his head violently wailing loudly like some sort of
beast. It was time, the last
few moments of John’s life, and he watched – enjoying the macabre
display. The
noose tightens and tightens like a boa constrictor chocking the life from
its prey. Thoughts explode into the brain – Grab the Rope!
Help Me! Get Air!
Move! – But it makes no difference. All
coordination is lost. The
beams creak threatening to break due to his weight.
The rope makes a tearing sound. A
final, useless, gasp for air. The
final heartbeat before death, and it is over.
The body just hangs there – lifeless.
Gently swaying as it loses momentum.
He
took one final look at the hanging body before he touched the flame from
his lighter against the gasoline soaked sofa.
The sofa lit up like a torch.
The flames flickering, in a strobe light fashion, cast an eerie
orange glow over John Ledger's contorted face.
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Chris
Grant put away the gun he had discovered in the warehouse office and ran
over to Hope. He fawned over her like any true boyfriend would the woman
he loved. While he stroked her hair he reveled in the fact that his true
identity was still safe. No one would ever know he was Romeo.
“There’s
nothing we can do for her here.”
“Go
to her.”