Don’t Die Before You’re Dead | Reid Castello
This time would not be like the last. There would be no pussyfooting about, running through a list of possible victims who seemed deserving of an eternal slumber. Last time had been during the hum of regular activity, when the little island had recovered from a previous attack and was getting back into the swing of things. It had been four months since the last intervention and it was time to do something about the uncooperative humans. Choosing a victim then had to be calculated and unexpected. It had to hit everyone in some way, even those who hadn’t known the Muir girl. It was shocking and striking because of her complete and utter lack of opposition to…well, everything. No one, not even her bedmate Detective Stone, could have predicted that the blonde would lose her life. But yes, this time was different. This time was not during a period of comfort and relative joy. No, this was during a period of death. Everything, it seemed, was dead. The town itself had no heartbeat, no blood flowing through it at all. With the curfew put in place by Stone and the resumption of a new semester of school, all the youths of Asteria were no better than the walking dead, scurrying from one lifeless location to another. This was a great aggravation, because there was absolutely nothing more off-putting than watching things die before they were dead.There was a solution, of course. There was always a solution, and though it often came at the price of more bloodshed, it was there. If they were going to act like they’d been put to death, then perhaps it was time for another to suffer that same fate, to mirror this new Asterian way of life. And who better to use as an example than someone who had already died before he was dead? It was just after three am, the sky a deep indigo, but paling along the horizon. Stars glittered in the inky surface, bright and hopeful, but somewhat eerily as can often be said about light found in the dark. The moon was not full, but waning, working its way down to a narrow white slice. It all seemed rather poetic, in all honesty. The last of the moon being see as someone saw the last of their life. Though he would never know it, if he did, he would be impressed by the symmetry. It crept up to his front door, using the silver lock pick to jimmy it open. An alarm went off almost instantly, but It quickly disarmed it by punching in the four-letter-code: Z-E-R-O. He’d thought himself clever for coming up with such an absurd mode of protection. Well, he was more intelligent than most, and nosier too. And that was just the reason he had to go. He was also a huge pain in the ass, but that was more of just a secondary factor. All the help had gone home long ago, so the Castello pad was in pristine condition and as quiet as a tomb. It ascended the fine, staircase of lacquered wood and stopped just in front of the master bedroom. It pushed, the door swinging wide open soundlessly. Though it was dark, It could still make out every feature of the sleeping devil on his stomach with his head facing left. He was in the nude, which should always be expected of this particular creature, and the decorative pillows and sheets were strewn about the ground around him. One arm clutched a pillow protectively and the other hung off the edge of the bed; even in a king-sized bed, he’d have to find his way to the edge. It swept it’s hand in front of his face from left to right, with a flat palm that nearly touched skin. It channelled the content of his mind, finding the dream he was currently enjoying; it was him and the Roberts girl having little, light brown babies with curly, sandy brown hair. They were at some sort of soccer practice, cheering for their children and cuddling in the stands. It smirked, twisting its open hand into a fist, and twisting the dream. She could see his face tightening and brows furrowing as the dream became one of him walking in on Mina having an affair with Adrian Gibbons, as she no doubt would since the Gibbons boy was her fated match. It watched as he gasped and woke up from the nightmare, almost immediately casting his eyes on the form before him. His dark eyes betrayed shock and horror, the fear that had been rooted in him since he was young but that he had hidden well from the world. "Reid Castello," It said, pulling a long rope out of the side satchel It wore with gloved hands. "I’m going to enjoy this." His mouth fell open as he prepared to speak, but It simply put a finger to his lips, feeling a rush as the fear in him grew. " For once in your life, keep that mouth of yours shut, or I’ll be forced to make you regret it using a very sharp blade. And if I have to use the blade, then we’re going to lose this beautiful body, won’t we?" He clamped his mouth shut again almost instantly. The boy was as vain as a pageant queen. His unspoken fear was giving It more power, the kind of power it had known in the old days. It tied the rope into a sort of noose, placing it around Reid’s neck, watching his eyes pop open in fear. It tightened the rope so that his Adam’s apple bobbed just around the place where he was starting to redden. ”If you’re a good boy, I won’t have to strangle you. So try to keep still.” It grabbed a vial of white powder and another of water from the satchel, mixing them before his eyes. Reid Castello had done nothing but horrible things. He’d hurt the people of the town and toyed with them. He’d made deals and betrayed deals. He was an awful, terrible person, who had been dead long before this moment, but that did not even weigh in to this imminent end. He’d gone too far, searched too hard to find out what was going on in town. And that had to be put to an end. And everyone else who even halfway believed all of the theories he’d been looking into and putting forth, well hopefully they would take his death as a warning. "You’re going to get one last high," It wrapped a thick piece of fabric around his left arm, waiting for the vein to reveal itself. Then, it pulled out a little cannula and filling it with the high concentration mixture of cocaine and water. Pricking him sharply, It began to pump his system full of the mixture. "Did you know that cannula comes from the Latin word ‘Little Reed’? Isn’t that poetic?" He struggled against the needle, but his eyes were glazing over already. He wanted it, the addict. He knew it would kill him, but he wanted it anyway. He screamed out in what seemed like a mixture of despair and rage, so It tightened the noose and watched him choke. "What did I say about opening that mouth of yours?" He was still gasping for air when It finally took out the cannula and filled it again. Blood welled up at the point of the needle incision, droplets falling to the white sheets and staining them. Loosening the noose slowly, It injected him again while It explained, ” You’ve got a fairly strong dosage of cocaine in your system there. I guarantee it’s more than even the Great Reid Castello has ever known. And it’s going to kill you. I know, I know, but this is the real deal. You won’t come back.” He struggled again breathing labouredly as the high began to fill him. He was sweaty, hyperventilating basically and looking at It with such fear. It withdrew the cannula, and filled it up one final time, stabbing his arm with it though he didn’t feel the pain. He was already too far gone. "You’re experiencing tachycardia right now. So don’t worry about the shortness of breath, or the fluttering in your chest, or the light-headedness. It doesn’t mean anything, just that your life is rapidly slipping away from you." Finally, It set the cannula on the bedside table along with the vial of the cocaine mixture, brushing a gloved hand over his forehead. " Soon, the heart irregularity you are feeling will stop, because so will your heart. Reid Castello, done in by a stopping heart. I hope you appreciate the great pains I went to to make your death lovely." He writhed on the bed in some mixture between ecstasy and agony, It removing the noose and returning it to the satchel stepping away as Reid’s eyes closed on a silent moan. "No one will know you were murdered. Just that you were a drug addict looking for a fix. And that you found it." No one would know he’d been murdered, no one would think him a martyr. He’d just be an insignificant nuisance of Asteria finally slain by his own hands. And if any did find out he was murdered, so what? No one cared about him, no one loved him, he’d made sure of that. He’d never have rows of mourners at his funeral, only enemies spitting on his grave. He was a nosy, entitled, spoiled little prick who had tossed Fate’s gift to him right back and tried to seek out his own path. But there was satisfaction in knowing that the road would still end wherever It decided. This night, this room, this way; that had all been of It’s own doing. Tossing It’s head back one more time, It muttered, ” Fuck with Fate, and I’ll fuck you right back.”
