Well At Least He's Not Dead

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Have you ever tried to blugend yourself to death? Probably not. Without, say, a building to jump off of, or a high speed train (or car) to throw yourself in front of, it was kind of hard to work up to. Lisha gripped the hammer tightly in her palm and tried to fork together the courage to end it. It couldn't hurt that much? Right?

"Lish?" Michael whispered nervously.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think...I don't think I can do this," he gulped and looked down at the hammer in his lap.

Lisha wanted to believe she was disappointed, but in all reality, she couldn't help but be relieved. If he couldn't do it. Instantly she regretted that thought. Their lives, well not their lives, but Ian's and Tony's and Abbie's; all their lives depended on their deaths. Abbie whimpered in her comatose sleep, causing Lisha to naw nervously on the inside of her mouth. Tony gasped lowly and seemed to shift uneasily.

Michael was watching along with her. "We have to do it," he whispered.

"Yeah," she repeated. The hammer grew heavier in her hand. "I think," she crossed her legs in front of her and held the browns of his eyes. The normally all seeing irises we're ringed with red shadows that gave hint of his true weariness. Two days, he said. Two days that set them two steps from Hell. "I think, it'll be fastest if we stand facing each other....and we do it to each other...faster. Less pain."

"One hit," Mike murmured. "Pop."

"Pop," Lisha smiled without humor.

"Then....." he chuckled a hollow sort of laugh. "To your feet, captain."

She flashed him a salute and slowly dragged herself to her feet, helping Michael up in the process. They both held the hammers their right hands. Lisha wasn't sure what Mile was thinking to keep from dropping the tool turned weapon, but she imagined that that blunt object was really her saxophone -- the way she held it in her opening set during the ballad of the marching band show.

He took one last long breath, and in the exhale. "Four with the metronome and you're in. Set!"

Lisha squared her shoulders and brought her chin up.

"Dut."

"Dut."

" Dut."

Dut.
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Suddenly the door swung open and a beaten and bloody Ian was thrown into their cell. Lisha and Michael shared a split second look, then both simultaneously dropped their hammers and ran toward the door. Lisha had never run so fast in her life, but no matter how fast they ran, the door was still faster. It slammed shit a fraction of a second before they hit it.

Lisha slammed her palm against it a couple times. "Damn it, so close."

Ian moaned loudly on the floor and coughed out. "Glad to see you guys missed me."

"What the Hell happened to you?" Mike asked, more out of etiquette than anything else. Lisha brought a finger to her lips and bode Ian not to talk if he could help it. (Most of the time he couldn't help it. He and Tony had that in common.)

"I can't feel my chest," he wheezed and fell forward so that Mike had to drop down to his knees to catch him. Lisha knelt down as well and slowly pushed his unruly blonde hair out of his eyes.

"What hurts?" Sh whispered almost inaudibly.

He repeated. "I can't feel my chest...or my arms...i-is there blood in my eyes? "

She tilted his head back then shook her own. He had the beginnings of a couple black eyes coming out; she hoped it wasn't something more serious than that. Her teeth sank down into her bottom lip and Michael let out a tiny gasp as the movement exposed his neck is to the light. On top of a couple layers of deep set bruises that could have been from any amount of ligatures, we're a series of shallow cuts that ran parallel to each other. Most of the em we're too shallow to be fatal, but they looked painful and swollen, especially the ones that ran up into his hairline.

"Get his shirt off," Lisha said urgently. Ian groaned as the two of them gently, but promptly yanked his long sleeved Levi T-shirt over his head. Both of them had to suppress yelps as they laid eyes upon a multitude of different burns, bruises and cuts. They covered every inch of his pale skin like a second shirt. Lisha Couldn't fonder what could have made half of them, but she did know that if he drifted off, there was a chance that he wouldn't wake up.

In an effort to lighten the mood, Lisha said. "It's fine, you never were to begin with."

"Ouch, shot through the heart."

Mike didn't even smile at their personal jokes.

"So hows the situation?" Ian asked, suppressing a coughing fit.

"Not great," a voice from behind them said quietly. Tony stretched his lips around teeth in a strange imitation of a smile.

"Welcome to the world of that living, amigo," Lisha greeted, ignoring the hastily wrapped, bloodstained bandages that were twisted all the way up Ian's arms.

"Ian's back," Tony acknowledged.

"Yah, Ian's back," Ian replied hautily.

"Did you hear how the deal works?"

"Two dead. Three alive."

"Yeah, that psycho, eh?"

"I know right."

Once again, Lisha and Michael shared a look. They were acting as if nothing at all was wrong, which didn't exactly surprise them that much, but now on top of everything else, they had to worry about Ian and Tony going into shock.

As if things weren't already difficult enough.

"So, Michael...buddy. What's the plan to get out of here?" Ian asked, then hissed through his teeth when he moved his neck.

"Try not to move too much," Lisha advised needlessly.

Michael sighed. "We'll get you guys out of here, don't worry." Then to Lisha, he mouthed, We'll find another way.


Hola mis amigos. How are you liking the story thus far? This is actually my favorite work. Wattpad hates me.

What did you do for halloween?

Love you all.

#trumpetego

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