EXCERPT:
Shovelling is easy. Potentially. Shovelling a ten by ten feet is a strain. Perhaps. Perhaps not. To the average man, it appears a crazy act. Even a dead body does not require that much. Sullivan differs the above statement. Commonality in modes of thinking with the layman was a detest he had formed since toddlership.
And a man whose brain operates on the next most appalling way to bring utmost dejection and pain to another would find a ten by ten pit, alluring. Far more than the idea of killing itself.
His basic thoughts being violence done right is violence done well. Violence done wrong though… was violence done best. But haste most times, showered limits on enjoying the art of violence.
Yet…
Sullivan had never been a man that allowed haste to alter his plans. Should violence be deprived of the time to reign, other methods would prove…sufficient.
Why stain your hands with the blood of the lecherous straining your girl when there's a better idea? Plus, dedicating a public bench to society is an act of goodwill. What more modest way to assure society he had reformed his ways and was now a gentleman than this?
As the concrete mixture turned firmer with time—pleading muffles of voice murdered by the fill of earth—the vision of the mould came alive before him. Sullivan had to admit, concrete does cement unnecessary evidence. Unnecessary existence.
"Beautiful." He admired. His handwork, a blessing society would adore for centuries.
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SIDENOTE: PLEASE NOTE THAT THE MALE LEAD MAY APPEAR A GENTLEMAN TAMING HIS INSTINCTS BUT HE PERFORMS ACTS THAT ARE DARK AND OBSESSIVE. IN SHORT, HE DEFINES MORALLY GREY.
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CHAPTER ONE:
Alphabets have a wonderful way of pulling itself together in a way that bites at the last string of emotion a person has. It's effective, cunning and if prolonged enough festers deep and digs up thoughts that have once been aborted when the human conscience still obeyed irrationality.
And alphabets strung together by a dead brother and containing the most vicious of revelations regarding one's lovely husband and a sister in law turned best friend had a way of completely nulling rationality.
This irrationality encouraged Anna to oppose the very first warning Anthony had given in the letter she found at his abandoned home. The one that warned Anna to never confront the two lecherous individuals in a state of anger but rather quietly dissolve them off her life.
But Anna succumbing to anger and the fact that her husband and sister in law had been fucking for years rushed over to Gigi Lacoke's estate. The horrible lady being the one who killed her brother, set up their mother and denied her the chance to become a mother.
With no proper plan of what to do or the basic knowledge of what to say. The decision had resulted in her catching Gigi and Fray, sweaty bodies enthusiastically moving over the balcony of her fine house—the one she got after her brother's death—moans displeasing to the ears as she described the precision of how she wanted his cock.
Cock he had barely put any effort in each time he gave it to her. Cock that had been useless in giving her the barest orgasm.
Screams were thrown and Anna found herself losing composure as Gigi showed her true self by shoving Anna's frail body around with viciousness. The pain that came after was detailed yet blurred. An avid description to not cross a homewrecker without proper plan.
"You have always been foolish. I knew you would be the easiest to be rid of when I came into your family. Tonight marks your last day. Soon, Harbinger group will be mine."
She picked a hockey stick, having doused her back with liquid that burned in the midst of quick violence. A response she got when she refused to sign the papers Gigi had brought before her.
But pain was fluid in readying a person to do things they normally would rebuke. Her signature was drastic over the papers and though begging to be let go, Gigi was reluctant. Vile painted her eyes.
Anna managed a strangled race to the car, hockey stick snagging her left leg. She heard a crack and her scream echoed through the space. A dog barked in the distance as she picked a huge stone, threw it at Gigi but it landed at Fray who shouted dulling Gigi's focus on her. Her useless husband merely stood by, encouraging Gigi Lacoke as she beat Anna to a pulp.
She scrambled into the car expecting Gigi to follow but the lady laughed, arms around Fray's shoulders as she screamed words that settled with her long after the car drove out of the compound.
But Anna refused to be destroyed by the likes of a woman her family sheltered and cared for. For the first time, the high class heiress accepted that she needed a favor. Her driving the car was a miracle on its own. With the wobbling pain that sometimes blurred her vision and pounded her body with a foreign ache. A feeling too close to death.
Snort marked her face with the wailing of her voice, the collection of betrayal, far greater than pain she could describe.
Even as she drove a car that would be her death, Anna knew where to go.
Now…
There were not many things that she did. Not many places that she knew. Except for one. The one who had been stuck in her mind.
For four years, she had been the perfect wife and nothing else. Loved him to the core of her life and did nothing but wish him well. Even when he turned his cold back to her, Anna never hesitated to do his bidding.
She grabbed the steering wheel, tears rolling off her eyes. Her broken leg ached and the occasional painful scream settled on her each time she pressed hard against the break. Nothing she could do at this point. The car was going too fast to stop. And there isn't a single sturdy place she could crash against.
"How…how…how did it get to this? HOW!?" She screamed, slamming her hands against the wheel, stomping her uninjured leg to the brake repeatedly and hoping a miracle would stop the car.
They were right about her. She knew Anna was oblivious to the way of the world. Even after everything she had seen tonight, all she had witnessed, and that was said, Anna refused to believe there wasn't a shred of hope for her.
"Watch how you are driving, woman!" One man screamed from his car.
The words Gigi screamed kept repeating itself in her head.
'You cannot escape my clutches Annabelle. You are driving your fifteen minutes to death. ENJOY THE BOMB!'
Even though she couldn't glance at the phone next to her, she knew it was ringing. Vibrating with calls from him. The one she had called her husband. The one she had been devoted to for years.
What did he want? To ensure she was dead? So he could continue his sweet fucking with Gigi?
"AHHHHHH!" She screamed. The echoes bouncing back and forth in the car. She maneuvered the car sharply not wanting to miss the turn and almost hit a random biker.
Anna would have apologized except that right now the universe wasn't being nice to her. No one was.
But him…
He had been the only one though. The only one who had looked at her with an ounce of consideration. The hint of admiration as he belittled her friend group. And in his twisted ways, had chastised her taste of the man she called her husband.
A few minutes felt like hours despite how fast the car was moving. The street she pulled in was clear and she could see his building from afar. Her eyes glanced over the time, seeing that she had less than two minutes but still too far away to cover.
Any normal person would have tried to leave the car except that the brakes had been tampered with. Jumping off was sure death with how busy and speedy the streets were even at such dead hours. The only thing possible was for it to go faster. So she stepped on the pedal.
"FASTER!" Anna screamed, not recognizing her own voice. She was going past 130kmph right now and when she made the sharp turn, the low light of the huge building blinking at her ahead, the car almost made a round about because of the speed but fortunately for her she only hit a street pole before she drove head on.
He will have to forgive her. And she will have to survive to hear his forgiveness.
The building was not very far now but the car was starting to make sounds. The bomb that had been attached to it was going off. Her heart was racing.
At an abnormal speed, it was beating and she could taste the change in saliva in her mouth. Fear concocting with it and giving off an iron taste. Anna wondered if this was what death tasted like. She gripped the wheel, ready to risk it all. Her legs were swollen and the pain from earlier was stronger than before.
The whole of her back felt like it was being grazed with spice. Crimson red staining the seat and her lovely dress. Only slightly had she managed to avoid the acid. If she survived this, she would kill her husband, his mistress and his horrible friends with her bare hands.
The ticking of the bomb was quicker by now. Thankfully, the street was deserted enough for two in the morning. And she banked on the constant news of his late work routine.
Like a king in ethereal times, she saw him step out of the elevator, gaze fixed on his phone before bringing it to his ear. He must have noticed the car swerving and driving towards his company at an abnormal speed because he raised his head, eyes clashing with the dangerous metal.
Even in that fleeting moment, Anna felt it. The weight of his stare, the look of confusion as he stood there now clearly looking at her.
She had never seen him look so shocked. Never seen him with an expression really. She had never seen him look so flustered or affected.
He was always... rigid. Composed. Gloomy. And too unfriendly.
"MOVE AWAY! MOVE! MOVE!" It was all she screamed before the car crashed in. Shattering the glass of his very beautiful architecture of a building.
The air bag deployed. It puffed in her face and she screamed when the metal compressed around her, car stopping when it hit the receptionist marble counter. The effect of it made her ears ring as waves of piercing ache assaulted her ear drums.
The car tilted left and right, shaken by the harsh collision. Metal clenched against each other and something punctured her sides. Glass shards flew towards her face and her skin felt like it was on fire.
As if the universe hasn't had enough. The ticking stopped and the bomb went off, sending the car into a row of flames and fire. All burning heat and unusual taste of blood in her mouth. She had lost her consciousness at the sound of the bomb going off.
The heat from the car was unbearable. The first floor was in chaos as the man brought himself to quick action. He was shaking when he brought his phone to his ears to dial the number.
The car had gone up in flames and there was nothing he could do. Fire was his weakness but Anna came before it. He rushed to the side of her car and threw a harsh punch at it. One hit from him and the door came off.
Thankfully, her side wasn't affected by the fire yet but with the smell of gas in the air, it was only a matter of time before Anna went into flames too. He couldn't think straight. He just acted on impulse. And his impulse was to save this woman who had crashed into his building.
The ground vibrated and he almost stumbled on his feet. The effect of her crashing had thrown him backwards. Against the doors of the elevator and the bombing of the car had sent broken glass to his body.
But that isn't the point. He ignored the pain that was quick to fade as it arrived. Managed to tear the seat belt off her and scoop her in his arms, his pseudo-heart clenching at the horrible state she was in.
He sprinted away from the scene as fast as it could take him, ignoring the fact that the receptionist floor CCTV would pick up his abnormal speed. His aide was bleeding, refusing to close because of the glass that obstructed it. But he ignored the pain and focused on saving her.
He had just been a few steps out of the building when the gas caused another explosion, the tumble of it pushing him forward. He and Anna collided to the cold harsh ground with a thud. The ambulance was closer now. He could hear the sirens. Someone was running towards them.
He recognized his assistant's shoes. Brook was shouting compared to her usual calmness. Words were being thrown into the air as she was clearly horrified by the view and he knew this was serious.
Sullivan had never once in his life felt threatened by anything. Not the slightest fear did he have when he was faced with multiple assault rifles. He had the confidence of a million men like his father would say.
The steele of a thousand first grade soldiers.
Sullivan never considered himself invincible. He just went through life like it wasn't so much of a big deal. Like he didn't care too much.
And if one had lived his life. Saw the things he saw and witnessed the decisions he has had to make, they would have the same inclination towards life.
But all he thought of at the moment wasn't the insurance for his life. It wasn't for him to breathe, it wasn't for him hoping the glass in his sides wouldn't pierce his vital organs.
No. It was in the pressure of his hand against her chest to stop the blood while the other held tightly to the seeping blood around her left rib. It was in the cloud of liquid that laced his eyes mixing with the blood in it.
It was in the control he had to give his body, daring it to go against its nature in the face of such an irresistible situation. It was in the hope in his mind.
The prayer he had never once said. It was all in it. In the words of his heart.
For the first time in his life, Sullivan prayed to God. To a higher entity he never believed in.
'If Annabelle lives, nothing in this world I wouldn't do to repay the debt. Just…just let Annabelle Live. Please…please God. Let Annabelle live.'