Julius Caesar

It was an invariably mundane, teasing shade of grey. And when the sky felt bad for boring its onlookers, it shed its grey away as molten, abusing pellets- only for it to get darker. It didn't fathom that darkness, lit by a few lightning bolts, wouldn't make it better for any of us. It didn't understand that its thunderous laughter was not the joyous sound of jingle bells it thought it was impersonating. It didn't know that its thunder claps reminded us of Satan's laughter. It misjudged hailing the devil for loving us.

It was terrifying. It was like me; a monster in disguise.

My days were those molten, abusing pellets. They fell, leaving a darker version of myself. They passed all looking alike. All I did was wake up, ask Sam if there were any improvements, act like I was a normal person for the rest of the day, mourn a bit, and then go back to sleep, recharging myself for another grey day.

The inefficiency of what I was doing frustrated me for a long time but all I could do was give it time and be 'patient'.

Sometimes I'd even hear voices in my head, screaming at me to just give everything up and return a slave under Father's boots. It would be tempting at times. Just give up. Live my life as I was destined to. Alone. Broken. It'd all pass. What was the bloody point in fighting for survival when we're all chained to death in one way or another?

But I would see Samara in the park and my heart would pause, perhaps to capture this very moment and store it away in a place so deep. A place I daren't allow myself to peek into. I would watch her quietly but never really approach her. Not anymore. She seemed like she was already in so much trouble. Associating her with me wouldn't make it better. So I decided to keep my distance.

As I smoke a cigarette, I'd watch her hair flutter, revealing her earphones as her feet tapped the ground quickly or slowly, based on what she was listening to. I'd watch her smile randomly as she shooed a fly or something. I'd watch her be so totally and completely herself because she thought she wasn't being watched. She didn't know that she earned her a fan by just maintaining her peaceful demeanour.

She was blind yet unyielding. She lost her father and wanted revenge on whoever killed him despite her blindness. So did I -a fully capable being- really had the right to give up?

No. I didn't think so really.

Weeks passed and I never talked to Samara. I would watch her, get enough of her strength, and leave. Repeat. She never called either and I wondered if she felt like I wasn't the right type to associate with. And to be honest, that'd be for the best.

It was an absurdly cold morning when I sat on a bench, three benches away from Samara, and played with an 8×8 Rubik's cube I bought two weeks ago to keep me distracted and improve my concentration whenever my thoughts thought they could consume me.

When I finished solving the cube faster than usual (practice makes perfect), I knew that my grey was not withering away. My, it was darkening. And this day, I felt like it couldn't get darker.

My breath hitched when Samara got up and left, because, somehow, her being in the park gave me a sense of safety. It was like I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only one fighting my weaknesses.

With a tight chest, I sat back on the bench and watched her leave relentlessly. I tsked at the longing feeling that built up in my lungs and breathed out heavily, deciding that if I were to be most efficient, my emotions and whatever remained from my humanity, had to be suppressed. I had to shut everything off. And I almost won this war. I almost won it, if it weren't for the utter grief that managed to seep from under the viscous darkness of my soul and surface like a phantom, in front of my eyes, blinding me and clouding my judgement.

Blimey, sometimes it seeped from my eyelids, uncontrollably in the middle of the night.

Minutes ticked-tocked into hours before I decided to leave to the new hotel Sam and I moved into, thinking that it was wise not staying in the same place for too long. I got into the suite and noticed that Sam and Ben were discussing something over a big book sitting in front of them. I ignored them and got into my room, exhausted and disappointed in myself.

I sat on my bed, glanced over my shoulder before reaching for the gun under my pillow. I held it in my hand for a long while. Shifted it to my other hand. Tossed it up and down.

Then held it to my forehead.

I held it there, closed my eyes, and thought that, yes, maybe that was the right choice. Not returning to Father. Not waiting here forever. No. Just dying. That might just be it.

I took a deep breath and counted to fifty in my head.

Did I really want to do this? After finally having a hand over Father? Was I really going to leave it all behind for him to continue building his corrupt empire? Was I going to just leave him at it just like that?

I opened my eyes and squeezed them shut again as my forehead throbbed as I remembered Audrey and the baby I would've had. Remembered the people I killed. Twenty souls tied around my neck. Twenty souls, I dragged around wherever I went. I held the pistol tighter and clenched my jaws.

I opened my eyes and more grief spilt inevitably, warm and salty, like Mum's tear-stained cheeks when I last kissed her goodbye. The silence around me was deafening and for once- I hated it.

I felt lonely and pathetic. Pathetic people don't live. It was simply natural selection. Charles Darwin's* theory. Being pathetic was certainly a selective disadvantage.

I held the gun tighter, thinking of all the things I could've done, the person I could've been if it weren't for the weakness I had for my father. If only I had chosen differently. Correctly.

So many opportunities presented themselves when I could've killed him. So many wasted, golden opportunities. We lived under the same roof. I could've sneaked up on him and killed him in his sleep. But I didn't. I couldn't. Something always held me back.

It was times like those when I felt that the whole world was against me. Times when I knew my weaknesses but was doing nothing to eliminate them. When I'd had enough of the guilt and what I was destined to become. When I was alone in a world packed with people who could help, yet really, really can't.

When I felt that I was so detached. Like I was brought to the world, just to be forgotten.

You are forgotten. If you died? No one would remember a monster like you. Someone who brought such atrocity to the world. Let's face it- you were never worth it. After all, you are a murderer. A murderer. People feared you and were hurt by your actions; thus you're not worth their help or care.

My thoughts. Those were my thoughts. They enjoyed pulling their triggers and killing me in their own ways.

I closed my eyes, feeling anger rise within me. It was anger that had kept me alive. Anger against Father that kept me running, looking for revenge for Audrey and my baby. For Mum. Anger was so long my terrifying fuel. It was exhausting.

Anger as motivation was also killing me. Anger against myself. It was there to taunt me and remind me of all my imperfections. It was there and was strong enough to allow me to hold a gun right in front of my own forehead, daring my brain to fire the right impulse across the right synapse to just end me.

But die without avenging Audrey?

I worked my jaws as my chest heaved up and down with every breath I took. She wouldn't be honoured, would she? She wouldn't be at peace when she rested in Earth's heart in her eternal sleep, would she be? I opened my eyes and focused them on the gun's tip, feeling my heart shatter again as tears filled my eyes to the brim.

Closing my eyes, I slowly lowered my gun, looked up and breathed deeply. It was too early to go.

I dropped the gun on the floor and laid on my back, exhausted, rubbing my face and reaching for my phone. I was about to call Samara before I angrily chucked the phone on the floor too. I had to stop being selfish. Audrey's death should've taught my heart a lesson.

I was about to get up when the door got slammed open and Augustus ambled in with a plastic bag and a grin on his face. I sat up immediately and managed a pathetic, lopsided smile.

"MA MATE!" He exclaimed, opening his arms wide. "Come here, lemme give you an 'Exclusive-Gusto-Bear-Hug'-"

"What brings you now?" I then asked him curiously with a heavy sigh as he reached in the plastic bag and chucked in my way a burger and a soda can. I caught them and raised my eyebrows. I didn't remember the last time I've eaten.

"You look like absolute shit, my friend," is what he said and I sighed, examining him. He was tall, clad in black, combat boots, army-green cargo pants, a simple black shirt, and a coal-black coat. His platinum-blond hair fell over his face, obscuring his eyes despite the sunglasses pushed on top of it to keep it together.

I opened the soda can and gulped it down.

Augustus looked at me with his piercing, blue eyes. "Anything new?" He asked, leaning against a wall and drinking his soda.

I shook my head and he nodded slowly. I was about to say something when Sam walked into the room with worry, etched on her face. Augustus pushed himself off the wall, eyed her up and down before settling for a smirk.

I sat up straighter, catching her off vibes instantly.

"What's wrong-?" I asked and Augustus scoffed.

"With her, you wouldn't know, mate. Always looks like she's having labour pains-" Augustus remarked, munching on his burger.

I was about to chuckle at his accurate analysis when Sam cleared her throat and flipped him off.

"Good you're here." She then said urgently and I raised my eyebrows. "That man-" she said slowly. "-he replied."

I slowly got up and walked toward her feeling suddenly motivated. "And-?"

"He said," she looked down, glanced at Augustus, and then looked back at me. "-he said they were never 'enemies' with your company. In fact, he said-" she paused. "-he said that they're on very good terms."

Silence followed. I stared hard at her, processing what she said. What kind of game were they playing?

"Bloody hell-" was what Augustus blurted after a short while.

"But that makes absolutely no sense," I said irritably as I started pacing around. "Why would your father steal those documents if our companies were 'besties'? Nonsense! Hell, he got killed for them-"

"What?" Sam made a face, interrupting me. "What are you saying?"

"What what?!" I said angrily, stopping at my place and openly glaring at her.

"Romeo, mate... something's terribly wrong-" Augustus started seriously but my anger was already unleashed.

"What could be more terribly wrong than what's happening?!" I sneered.

"Who told you her father died?" He said and I gaped at him like he was crazy.

"What do you mean?" I said impatiently. "I know he's dead!"

I killed him. With my hands! I saw the damn bullet fly right into his head!

"But my father isn't dead, Romeo. Not at all," was what Sam said.

"What do you mean he isn't dead? Then, who, in the name of fuckery, were you mourning when I first met you?!" I snapped sharply and approached her dangerously until my face was only a few inches from hers.

Her eyes watered. "My-My uncle, Romeo. My uncle-" She then turned to leave, but my quick reflexes snatched her arm to turn her back to me.

"You aren't going anywhere until you bloody explain what the hell you just said," I said in a low, harsh whisper and she looked at me terrified. Tears filled her eyes to the brim and I frowned. I then sighed, bit down on my tongue, and loosened my grip on her before letting her go.

She stared at me, shaken, as I shuffled in my place, not knowing what to do. How to bloody react! I took a deep breath, rubbed my temples, and ran my hand through my hair before looking at her.

"Are you saying your father's still alive?" I asked still shocked.

Did that mean that I didn't really kill the man back then? It was impossible.

"Why wouldn't he be?" She asked, biting her lips.

I looked at her, trying to put the pieces together. "Was-Wasn't he attacked?" I asked suddenly perplexed.

"No. It was my uncle. He was shot in the head while driving back home-" She said slowly and I stared at her, my mouth wide open and my brain flipped over.

"Your father-"

"He's a known businessman and my uncle was his enemy. My dad killed him. He killed his own brother-" She said, shutting her eyes as if in pain. "That just adds to the list of reasons why I hate Dad."

I looked into her watery, dark eyes then at Augustus who was eating his burger and watching us intently.

"But how come it never came up? When I told you to ask your father's friends... you never said you could ask your father, you never told me he was alive!" I pressed, feeling perplexed and angry.

"I loathe my father, I just- I couldn't bring myself to talk to him-"

"But that was your life, Sam!" I snapped. "If I knew your father was alive, things would've been different, so bloody different." I sneered at her, restraining myself from getting close to her. Because, hell, I'd kill her with my bare hands.

"Hey, mate, chill-" Augustus interrupted with his food-muffled voice. He then took his time to swallow before speaking again. "I mean, what could be so different?"

I looked at him and for the first time considered this question. The most important question. I shook my head, glanced at Sam then back again at Augustus.

"This means I've been wasting my whole goddamned time-" I told myself brokenly. "Months passed and all for absolutely nothing-" I replied bitterly.

"But I'm working-" Sam blurted, but I gave her a look that shut her the hell up. I was angry at her, so angry, so so angry, because of one reason and one reason only.

"Because of your vagueness," I said breathlessly. "-I endangered your bloody life. For nothing. Would you fancy knowing why?" I asked rhetorically, glaring at her. "Because you aren't the girl I'm looking for. It is not you. Now, I know. But my enemy does not. And that makes all the bloody difference," I said calmly, looking in her eyes and not blinking once. "You will still remain his bloody target. For no reason. You might die when you are in no way involved in this."

Augustus choked on the soda he was drinking as Sam gasped faintly. Augustus then looked at Sam.

"Shit," Augustus said, wiping his hands on his pants and approaching me. "Do you even know the girl?"

I looked at him thoughtfully, then admitted. "No. I don't. Not a clue," I sighed, rubbing my eyes hopelessly.

"That's literally the worst-case scenario," Augustus said, sitting next to me as Sam shuffled to sit on my bed too. I was sandwiched between them.

She placed a hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off, getting up. There was no time for theatrics and pity. This was ridiculously getting out of hand. I was heading out of the room when Sam's quivering voice spoke up.

"I'll leave, Romeo. I'm so sorry," was all she said and I stopped in my tracks.

"Don't," was all I said, not even turning back as I continued making my way out of the hotel room.

The last thing I needed was having her dead because of this. Something she shouldn't have been part of. I couldn't handle dragging more innocent souls.

I really needed to think.