drench my heart in gasoline & light a fire {self}
Ryan had been waiting for what seemed like ages, the scotch in his glass dwindling slowly as he avoided the halloween festivities above him in Fire & Ice. Tanya said that she would be walking downstairs to meet him-that was what he thought the plan was, at least, and they'd be leaving out the back entrance. However, as the hours went by, and the sounds of laughter upstairs had long since died away, Ryan felt that familiar feeling of paranoia start to grip his heart. What if...no, nothing bad could have happened to her. Nothing. Nothing. He wouldn't let it. His chest tightened, and he knocked back the rest of his scotch before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and putting it on, letting his anxiety get the better of him as he went upstairs to investigate.
The bar was like a ghost town-not even Faye was to be found. Ryan pulled a little on his tie, feeling himself start to sweat a little under his collar. This wasn't happening. He was just being paranoid, and Tanya was going to walk out of her dressing room, and everything was going to be fine. This wasn't happening to them again. They had only just gone through what he thought were the worst times of his life-things could only get better from here, right? Ryan strode towards the back, towards her dressing room, and back further still, out the back door to where the dumpsters were, following a half-hearted hope that she would be out there. However, the alley was barren and cold, and Ryan could feel the chill sink into his bones, even with the thick jacket he was wearing. As his eyes scanned the darkened alleyway, they fell upon the small, silver pocketwatch, and his heart dropped straight into the pit of his stomach. No.
He ran over to it, practically throwing himself to the ground as he picked it up and examined it. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn't his, and it hadn't been around her neck, he kept finding irrefutable evidence that it was his and it had been resting around her neck. The faint smell of her perfume filled the air every time he rubbed it a little, feeling for the dings that he had caused, the ones he was finding on the body of this watch. Every bit of proof that stacked against his hopes was a punch in the stomach and a slap in the face, a kick to the shin and a stab through the heart...the only time she would ever lose this was...no, he couldn't think of that.
However, Ryan's most deep-seated fears were becoming an actuality, as he saw the red guard walking by down the street, each of them toting one or more people. Ryan flattened himself against the wall, praying that he wouldn't be next-that he wouldn't be taken. He closed his eyes, pulling his fedora low over his eyes, hoping that the black would make him a little less noticeable to the passersby. As the stomping sound of boots faded into the distance, Ryan allowed himself to breathe again, letting out a slow exhale and looking up and down the alleyway and street, his heart threatening to pound right out of his chest. Taking note of the yellowish sheet of paper stuck to the lamppost, his heart quickened its beat, and he started to walk towards it.
As the words on the page entered his brain, he had to read them twice, three times...ten times...and they still didn't sink in. How could this be happening? How could she do this? Suddenly, Ryan felt sick to his stomach. The three people that he really cared about were dead...his cousin was enslaved...what was there left to live for?
The pocketwatch in his hand was the key. For her. He had to live for her. He had to fight for her. The feeling now...it was like someone had ripped his heart out, drenched it in gasoline, and set it on fire...and that fire was what was going to fuel him now. He was going to take revenge, if it was the last thing he did.
Ryan held the pocketwatch so tightly that it started to cut into his hand, the broken link in the chain that had been holding it around her neck stabbing into his hand. As the blood ran its sickening red course down his palm, dripping down onto the street, he found himself getting more and more enraged. A frustrated tear slid down his cheek, and he roughly brushed it away.
The sound of boots thundered in the distance, along with the screaming sobs of mothers who had lost their children, brothers who had been separated, lovers who were torn apart....Ryan bowed his head.
Nothing was going to be the same.
