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Little Boy
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Jimmy sat by the tree for a long while. A terrible burning sensation had arisen in his guts, like they were trying to claw out of his stomach. He couldn’t blame them. His shotgun was in his hands, but for the moment it was down, the safety locked. He observed the scene, his eyes narrowed, yet wild.

He watched Alex White lay something near the graves. His pulse quickened as he observed the scene in silence. The boy had hurt him, and for that he would die painfully, by him or another, it didn’t make a difference. Crouching in the bushes near the supermarket, Jimmy watched his prey with fascination.

Shoot him.

He wanted to. Jimmy felt powerful- a single well place round could split Alex’s head right open. His life was in Jimmy’s hands, and he felt smug satisfaction at controlling someone as physically imposing as Alex. Things felt right again, despite the pain, despite his burning in his guts. All his doubts and questions were wiped aside as he gloated, powerful and self absorbed once more. If only for a moment.

As he turns to leave, right when he thinks he’s safe. In the leg first, then rush him. Shove it down his throat. Bullets for breakfast, a messy one-, fuckin’- messy as hell, just like J.J. Yeah. Die like J.J. He’ll die- just like him. Yeah. That’s what he gets. He fucked with me, now I fuck him. Yeah. That’s how it goes. Never stop, never die.

Jimmy shifted, a fresh bolt of pain shooting up his shoulder. His bruises were turning that terrible yellowy purple color, and his fresh clothes were coated in mud once more. It seemed like an eternity since he’d awoken in the Gazebo. So much pain. So much confusion. But it was okay now. He still had his gun, and he’d figured things out. He was in control.

No more questions. Just pain and justice, an Island draped in stinking blood.

Truth be told, he felt pretty good.

Alex turned to leave. Jimmy bit his lip as the boy disappeared through the forest, in the opposite direction. He let out a sigh, looking toward the ground.

No… No. Leave him. Let him go. He comes back, his luck runs out. Rosa. Find Rosa- she’ll fix everything. Can’t risk her anymore- gotta explain everything.

Lucky Alex. You’re a lucky bastard. I’ll finish you though. I’ll kill all the motherfuckers, and you’re the biggest still walking. Just you wait bitch. I’ll be the last thing you see. Just wait for it. Just wait-

He lay still for a long time, panting and wondering when to move. He had no idea where Rosa was- he supposed he should have asked Alex if he’d seen Ray and his Posse. But it was too late now, and he balked at the idea anyway. He was Jimmy Brennan, he didn’t need anyone else.

Finally, he crawled forward.

It was too painful to walk proper. Instead he hobbled, trying his best at a cocky strut, not so much for himself, but for the audience. They were watching him he knew, watching his every move.

I’m still the best- remember? Still on top. Fuckin’ A. Fuckin’ right- Can’t afford to go down now.

Jimmy kicked open the door of building, raising his gun and entering. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Shelves, cans of food. It was silent as a tomb. He felt unease again-, something told him he’d picked up the wrong trail.

Shit… how far could they have gotten? How long did it take me to get here? It must have been a few minutes-, minutes at the most… Couldn’t have been longer then that, could it?

He exited the building, looking around the clearing. With Alex gone, it was silent once more. He grunted in annoyance, kicking a stray rock back against the wall. His eyes trailed over, looking towards the graves Alex had marked.

Who in their right mind had time to dig graves? He shouldered his weapon, spitting on the ground and noting the blood, with a dull acceptance. He hobbled closer to the graves. Something was written the names down. The poor unlucky bastards.

He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to read it.

((Jimmy Brennan continues in No One Here Gets Out Alive))
Edited by Little Boy, Jun 12 2011, 05:15 PM.
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
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"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey

NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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