Sealed fate || Closed
location: museum. victim: @alecjonasson
Alec Jonasson had served his purpose in this town and his time had come. First of the new year.
He’d be more useful in death when it came to Angel Frazier and her continuing torment. Despite him not being a physical presence, he’d still be an invisible one and his death will provide a lot more angst. She used a gun and shot him once, almost killed him. When he turned up dead with gunshot wounds from the same missing gun it wasn’t going to be too farfetched for people to believe it was the same person who’d come back and finished the job. So they’d have that as leverage to hold over Angel in the time to come. They knew where the gun was. It wouldn’t be hard to link her to it. To then link her to Alec’s final timely death.
It was easy enough to lure him into a meeting. He needed an out and -A was going to give him one. Just not the one he would expect.
It was dark. It was late. The museum was eerily quiet and they knew they needed to stay quiet to get the jump on him. The advantage. He probably wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Luring him into the back had been easy enough and everything was positioned just right so that one quick shove at just the right moment sent Alec Jonasson tumbling down into a fake coffin. While he was disoriented and surprised still from the suddenness of it, -A was quick to jump back into action and drag the cover over it, plunging Alec into even more darkness in that tight, confined, now totally locked space.
It was amusing. Listening to him. Knowing he was trapped.
There were a few holes in the coffin’s lid. Not big enough for anything other than the gun they’d gotten hold of to shoot through.
Not just one shot. Ringing through the darkness.
The museum would be closed for another day or so. No one would be in.
Just enough time for Alec Jonasson to perish.
Alec Jonasson was standing with his back against the wall. There was no other way to put it. A part of him had known that it would be best to delete the message on his phone, to be suspicious of the person who was extending their hand, that the only person in this world Alec could rely on was himself. And yet he’d allowed the temptation to lure him in. Perhaps it was the certainty of having no other choice, of all other options being eliminated, perhaps it was the utter craving for someone to be on his side. For 36 years, Alec Jonasson had fought in life on his own. Was it so bad that he just for once, just for one small moment, wanted to feel like there was someone with him?
With furrowed brows and hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, Alec stepped into the museum, following all the instructions while the eerie silence made his heart beat sound even louder in the empty building. Funny how this place turned from an educational institution into a place of darkness at night. For a second, he could feel the doubt in his chest that maybe he shouldn’t be here, that maybe this wasn’t going to help him after all but only make things worse. The realisation came too late. So fucking late. Before he could think about it twice, something or rather someone hit him, causing him to tumble down into his end. A grunt left his body as he was trying to make sense of all of it but he wasn’t granted the time, not even a split second as the cover of the coffin closed down onto him, leaving him alone with the panic building up in his body. “Hey! Get me the fuck out of here!” Desperate hands were starting to knock against the material of the lid, as if there was a way out of this, as if he could get himself out of the situation by fighting, by using his fists like he had in life over and over again. “Please! I’ll do anything! Just get me out of here. Please, I ... I will leave town, I will never come back. Please just...” He could barely breathe, the tight space making him feel like he was suffocating, like there was a hand around his neck, squeezing. And as Alec Jonasson’s struggle started to vanish, as all of the hope inside of his body was wiped away after the wave of panic washing over his body, it was obvious that regret came too late. That hurting the only person who’d loved him had been the biggest mistake of his life. That fighting a war he couldn’t win without anyone by his side, was the worst decision of his life. That there were so many people he wanted to see again. Abi. Kelly. Madeline. Just caress her soft skin one more time, touch her blonde hair one more time, just one final kiss and whisper into her ear how sorry he was, that he wished he could have been a better person, someone she deserved. And on that cold February night, Alec Jonasson died the same way he’d lived. Lonely. Although he’d struggled until the very end, at least there was the realisation that the world was free of him and that he was free of this cruel world.
It was over.
