“We need to go and identify Dad’s body.”
“No,” she says, voice trembling. “I c-can’t do that, Arlo. Please don’t make me. It will make everything too real, and I can’t deal with that right now. Please.”
The pleading in her voice cracks the last bit of sanity I have left. So, with a stiff nod, and without looking back at my mom, I leave the hospital room. I exit the hospital entirely, going to my car. Inside, I dig out the clothes that I have not worn in a while, and fuck, do they need to take charge again.
The black oversized hoodie with a matching pair of sweatpants. The shoes that have no identifiable prints on the bottom, in the same shade as the rest of the clothes, and of course, leather gloves.
With a quick call, I give Lucas instructions. He has little to no time to act on them, but he knows better than to question me, especially now. I’m not the man he needs to be butting heads at the time, and I know he’s aware of it, too. He ends the call with the promise of getting everything done before I get there, and that’s all I need.
I drive the car right to the penthouse where all the memories with Blair formed, park it inside of the garage, and switch the car for the bike. It’s been almost too long since I took it out for a drive, and what better opportunity than tonight?
With a quick stop to the warehouse to grab some necessities, I make my way toward the destination. I make sure no one at the base notices me there, because the last thing I need is Blair trying to talk me out of this.
I stop for a moment, just to look at her, then leave as if I was never even there in the first place.
Because I wasn’t.
The Ghost was.
The moment I reach the destination, I park close by, not really paying attention if the bike is seen or not. The overwhelming anger has brought the demon out, and there’s no stopping him now. Not until he’s satisfied with all the blood he’s about to spill.
The gates open upon my arrival, and my feet are carrying me toward the entrance quickly. I don’t stop to observe the scene, or to soak anything in — there’s no time for that. I need an outlet, I need to let go of this rage and then be of help to Blair and everyone else back at the base.
The moment I enter the prison, I start shooting.
Every single inmate, every single staff member that hasn’t been evacuated meets their unfortunate end, by my hand. Using a rifle isn’t usually my preferred method, but it’s quick, and it’s giving me the satisfaction of watching everything unfold at a faster pace.
Everyone who deserves death is right here where they need to be, to meet their maker.
Because I am God.
I’m a man who has almost nothing left to lose.
Bodies fall down one by one, the piercing screams of the wounded filling my ears. The exhilarating feeling of feeling blood splash all over me, of seeing the terror and pure fear on their faces is bringing me an immense amount of joy.
The adrenaline is pumping in my veins, the blood running as hot as the warmest summer days. My heart is beatinguncontrollably fast inside my chest, and the grin on my face doesn’t falter.
With each sound of them begging, pleading with me to spare them, the excitement grows. The sight of their bloodied bodies scattered all around makes my heart skip a beat, similar to that when I’m with Blair.
There are multiple men crawling on the floor, and I land the finishing blows, the bullets hitting the back of their heads, blowing their brains out. I toss the rifle aside, and reach for the usual weapon of choice, my beloved guns.
I’ve had them made for me specifically. Each one has the Ghost signature on them, engraved in pure gold. I walk toward the stairs, my entire body covered with vigor, dripping down my body. The hoodie is soaked, and it’s no longer salvageable.
A couple of men are trying to come at me, but it’s useless. I can sense them long before I can see them, and given that they have no weapons, they’re no threat to me. Each and every single one falls down, their bodies slowly starting to grow cold as life drains out of them.
I take a deep breath, eyes skimming my surroundings. The stench of blood fills my nose, and fuck, I missed it. I was raised to be this — a blood thirsty monster, whose morals are as dark and as deranged as the demons that consume him when the Ghost comes to the surface. And the world is lucky I don’t let him out often. Now, they’re all doomed. The beast is out, and he is not returning to his cage.
I instructed Lucas to keep the security cameras working, and when I speak, my voice is cold, loud, and menacing.
“To those who will watch this,” the sound that’s coming out of my mouth is a clear threat, “This is the work of the Ghost.I’m back, and I will kill every single person in New York City. To those who do not believe my words, come at me. I dare you. I’ll be waiting with open arms. Every single person who has dared to even think ill of those I hold dear will be made an example of. The nightmare you all fear is back, and this time, he’s here to stay.”
TEN
15 YEARS OLD
The door closes as Mr. Simmons exits, and I’m left lying on the bed. I’m bleeding today, too. I don’t know how many times he’ll have to use me for it to stop bleeding, but it hurts. Everything inside of me hurts, and moving from the lying position is so painful.
Somehow though, I manage to get myself on my feet, glancing back.
