WHAT IF + GRIZZ HAD BEEN IN ALLIE’S PLACE
INSTEAD WHEN IT CAME TIME TO SHOOT DEWEY.
he can feel his pulse in his temple, erratic beat reminding him that this wasn’t a dream as he gazed at the pleading peer. dewey is strapped to the wooden dining chair taken from some empty home, make - shift for an execution that shouldn’t be happening. they didn’t have the electric chair - only guns harvested from unsupervised teenagers, bullets filling chambers with murderous intent. only one had real ones ; the others containing blanks, as if the anonymity would help them all be guilt - free. they’ll all have blood on their hands, each agonizing over who had really killed a classmate - all blaming themselves. killing one of their own shouldn’t be painless ; shouldn’t come without repercussions. if they didn’t feel bad for the execution, what did that mean of them?
grizz had the sickening suspicion that he’d be the unlucky one to be given the role of grim reaper. the feeling nestles deep in his rib cage, heavy on his lungs - it is hard to breathe. it bobs further downward the second smooth metal is placed in his palm, positioning it to be held delicately between his thumb and index finger. he doesn’t want to do this. suggesting to explore all their options is one thing, being forced to play the twisted role of executioner another. the guard had no true job description, only implied to be the brute strength needed to enforce others to benefit this new community, but grizz didn’t think this would be part of it - didn’t think it should be. they were all teenagers, desperately scrambling to rule an unknown world in the name of survival. murder an unexpected event, execution somehow cruel in his heart. he didn’t want to do it, but he had promised allie he would be with her every step of the way. grizz doesn’t break his promises, even if his heart screams at him that what he was participating in is wrong.
he takes a brief moment to fiddle with the safety, coached by helena on its location. nervously, he had flicked it off before he followed procedure of the others, lifting his arm to take aim. blood rushes in his ears, but it doesn’t drown out the begs of a boy who had made a mistake. the prayers helena had previously murmured floated into his thoughts like a whisper of the wind, twirled around to remind him that he couldn’t do it - couldn’t be one to possibly take a life, even if dewey had murdered cassandra. it didn’t feel right, but a quaking inhale grounded him just in time for the count - down to begin: three seconds before dewey was going to become nothing but a memory like their parents, like emily, like cassandra. too many disappearing from their lives and here grizz was adding another to the list.
his arm jerks uncertainly when he presses the trigger, removing the barrel from the sight of the target. baited breath and a skip of a heart beat reveals dewey is still alive. grizz knows for certain - his gun is the one. it is the scythe ready to harvest a soul, thirsty for the blood of his peer. his stomach churns at the revelation, fear flushing his veins. would he be damned for his part in this execution? would he have to beg for redemption, knowing he had killed someone?
“i can’t do this,” he wheezes, eyes burning as he looks to his friends, gun pointed at the forest floor beneath his feet. he thinks he’s going to be sick. it doesn’t get any better when jason claps a hand against his shoulder.
“c’mon, grizzy, we have to do it again,” jason replies, eyes only slightly wider than normal - freaked out that they missed or that they had to go again? grizz doesn’t know ; doesn’t want to know. he shakes his head in refusal, hoping the denial will stop the execution. hoping that, somehow, allie would change her mind.
“if you can’t do it, i’ll do it,” allie supplies, firm in her stance. grizz doesn’t think this is about justice anymore - thinks it’s revenge for the life of her sister. but an eye for an eye was a dangerous way to live and would invite more problems than good. his tongue is heavy in his mouth, brain swimming in too many thoughts without enough time to process any of them. he wants to cry ; go to his house, far away from the prying eyes of the execution team, and curl up under his blanket and forget about this whole situation. but he has a job to do, doesn’t he? shake off this cloak of the grim reaper and let the wings of phanuel spread from his back.
his arm lifts again, jaw clenched and eyes glistening while his friends mimic his actions, surprised that grizz has given into the pressures of repetition. internally, he sends a quick prayer for dewey as the count - down repeats. he holds his breath as he presses the trigger for the second time, squeezing his eyes shut while he does it. the gasps that infiltrate his ears urge him to peek, knowing it was over. the sight that greets him makes him burn with guilt, remorse, and agony. he turns away within a second, body resisting the coursing negative emotions by heaving, but he knows they will linger - a stubborn scar on the picture of his soul to bare for eternity. after all, he was the one that killed dewey.
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