Chapter 1: A long friendship 

August 17th 1:53PM

Jimmy’s steakhouse 

It was a typical day in New York, with the sun hidden behind the clouds, leaves flying in the wind & apartment complexes sinking to the heart of the ground. No place like home. One thing out of the ordinary. Tim Allan, my best friend. I haven't seen him in two months due to college & other obligations. I know it's boring but I failed high school. Since the eleventh grade, I haven't always been the sharpest tool in the shed. In any case, I will never be. I'm supposed to meet Tim at the old steakhouse on 5th. Tim was close by, the more steps I took, the more goosebumps appeared on my arms. Because of this, I had a terrible time sleeping last night. I rounded the last turn to the steakhouse & there he was. Since the last time I saw him, he's grown a beard. Also gained some muscle too. His eyes squinted at me from afar, he leapt to his feet, nearly toppling the table  & nearly spilling his coffee. He dashed at me like a cheetah chasing its prey. By the time he comes up to me, he has a firm grasp on me & lifts me like a bear. I could see he had been training. “Oh My God, it’s so great to see you again bud” Tim asserts as he sets me down, still giving me a hug. As though we hadn't seen each other in years, I embraced back. “Great to see you too man” I respond with floods in my eyes. I had a hurt in my throat, similar to the ache you get when you attempt to hold back a sob... Maybe that was the case. We both take a seat & notice the napkins strewn over the table from where Tim leapt. He crumples the napkins & stuffs them into his pocket, as though he doesn't want to waste them. We both gaze at one other in awkward silence for approximately 10 seconds, unsure what to say or do. “Uhhm, how was college?” I said with a croaky voice. “Yeah, great, great, partied, drank.... partied” Tim says excitedly. The waitress brings us two hot chocolates, “Oh um.. we didn’t order that love”  I say puzzled, the waitress picks up the hot chocolates & begins to walk away.  “Oh no, I did. You got the right table” Tim says with a nearly loud voice. “Like good old times huh? You’re usual, three creams, two sugars right?,” “That’s correct.'' I'm about to take a taste when I notice Tim handing the waitress a $50 bill. I'm on the verge of choking on my drink. “$50? Are you crazy?” I whisper in question, “Don’t call me that!” Tim shouts while slamming his fist against the table. The screaming jolted me awake, like a severe electric shock. I've never seen Tim so enraged, especially when he hears the term ‘crazy.’ I'm sure I've called him crazy before. Tim appears to be puffed up with rage, as if he's ran all of Central Park. “I’m sorry, just college,” Was there an incident in college? Is he being harassed? His iPhone X rings just as I'm ready to say anything. Wish I had an iPhone X. Tim takes his phone from his pocket & goes a few metres without saying anything, not even a ‘Give me a second,' ‘Hang on' or ‘Sorry, I have to take this.' Tim seemed to be stressed & panicked. Face becoming crimson, veins practically bulging out of his face & a torrent of sweat. He hangs up the phone & goes back to me. I too am stressed. all I could think about was what if I did something wrong, will he scream at me? He walks over to the table & stands next to me. “Who was tha.....” I say before being immediately interrupted by a very angered Tim, “I have to go!” Tim doesn't say anything after that, not even a breath, he just walks away from me. He dashes around the corner, abandoning the bill to me. “Thanks Tim Allan, you son of a bitch” I speak quietly to myself. I was perplexed by the sum of $37.95 until I saw what the bastard had ordered. Fucking mother fuck, a fucking chicken parmigiana. Luckily, I had $85 left over from my birthday a few months back. I went home as soon as I collected my change from the pretty gorgeous female waitress. I was in abnormal emotional distress. I barely got to see Tim for 5 minutes, maybe even less. It was the first time in two months.

Chapter 2: No place like home

August 17th 2:11PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

I entered my 2.5 star accommodation after a day that had been a complete disappointment. The reviews are inaccurate... It should be a 1.5 star rating. The walls are virtually flaking away & I have a shitty square TV from the 70s, black & white piece of shit. The worst part is that it's all I can afford right now. I haven't been assigned to any shifts at work. The kitchen is rusted, the bed is stained with blood, the toilet won't fucking flush & the water has turned brown but it's what a fucking nobody like me gets. It's also inexpensive, at $11 per week. It should be reduced to $4 per week. Even the bugs scattered around my bathroom look more inviting than the food, which has been expired for 6 years & has moulded. With a sigh, I place my keys on the table before hearing a loud pounding at my door. It brought back a quick memory of Tim slamming the table. From the other side of the door, I hear, "Rent! Now!" I recognise who it is, so I take out a $20 bill from my wallet & open the door to see the building's owner. An Cheau, 63 year old bastard stinks of cigarettes. I'm surprised he hasn't succumbed to lung cancer. “$2 next week,” he rips the note from my grip & says angrily in a disgusting, insulting tone. I softly close the door. He doesn't have any change to give back & given the condition of this place, I can see why he doesn't have any. I'm quite sure I'm the only sad fucker that lives here. I finally got the news after around two minutes. Worse, the sound on this TV is broken, so I have to read the fucking ugly font subtitles. “Charlie Richway, for the third time this year, has been charged with drug peddling. Charlie has been selling these extremely illegal substances to young kids ages 11, 13 and 14, Rick Estlay will tell you more...” My hands were trembling in frustration as I couldn't stand it any longer. My fucking brother, Charlie Richway. My stupid retarded sibling is ruining our family's reputation. Hitler's family would have been a better fit for him. At the very least, Hitler would have cared more about us than this drug dealing prick. I couldn't take my mind off what he had done to Mom, Dad, to me. Falsely accusing us with possession of illegal drugs, I was so tempted to hurl the remote against the wall until I thought of the consequences with Mr Cheau. Before I could even strike the remote, I dropped it. I wanted some fresh air, to see Mom or something, just to get out of the place. I lock my room & continue down the stairs, where I notice Mr Cheau is also watching my brother on the news, when he looks at me, I return the stare & proceed to the door. Mr Cheau, outraged, adds, "Hey, you family.. Awful." His rambling & bad English made it difficult to understand him but I did. With a pleasant rush of fresh air, I step out the door.

Chapter 3: Family problems 

August 17th 4:41PM

Mrs Richway’s home

I arrived at Mom's house, it's safe to say she's a wonderful person, with a barbed wire fence, bear traps & even an emergency gun hidden behind an unsightly dead plant in front of the entrance. She forgets I have a key, so she runs out every time she hears the fence door open. “FUCK OFF, YOU FUCKING NAZI!” Mom shouts in her cute old woman voice as she slams the door wide open. I say quietly, "It's just me Mom.'' Since she turned back & reached for the emergency pistol, she must not have heard me. “Fuck off, pussy dick!” “Mom, it's me, your son Mike!” I scream in a fearful tone. Yes, I admit it, I'm a coward. “Micheal? Michealmy dear boy, how are you?” She says this while kissing me on the cheek. “I'm OK Mom, let's go inside, we don't want the neighbours to call the cops again,” “Ah, fuck em” Mom boldly replied as I led her inside. I see her television as soon as we enter the living room. It's far superior to mine but that's besides the point. She too, was watching the news of my brother. I take the remote control & turn it off. I took a seat near the fireplace, which was lovely & toasty. Mom reappeared in the main room, wielding her ancient cane. The poor thing was on the verge of collapsing, much like Mom's hip. She sits in her rocking chair, watching the fire flame, as I murmur, "You need a new walking stick, Mom." “How’s work?” I didn't want to tell her the reality that I hadn't been getting any shifts, so I replied, "Yeah good.'' Mom replies tiredly, "I wonder when your father is coming back, presumably working his buttocks off to pay the bills." "Mom, Dad passed away 5 years ago," "Probably working his buttocks off." Mom repeats. I saw photographs of my father & me over the fireplace, including the first time I caught a fish, my first day of school, me leaving high school. I'm missing him. When I'm ready to weep, I get the same ache in my throat. “Hey Mom, I guess I'd best get going...” I remarked soberly before turning back to discover Mom had slept out. I grab a blanket & snuggle her in gently. “Goodnight Mom,” I say softly before kissing her on the forehead. I gaze around the living room as soon as I grip the front door handle, noticing photographs of my brother. I cautiously approach the framed photographs & notice that Mom has scribbled all over Charlie's face on each one. She's done with him too, as far as I'm concerned. I begin to cry in agony & despair, silently so as not to disturb Mom. I leave to return home & sleep in my dreadful fucking cage. 

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

The time is now 7:01PM, having lived in New York for 19 years, I can tell you that there is no such thing as ‘darkness,' since there are lights everywhere. Bright. I try to walk in my virus infested room, to lay on my virus infested bed, after opening the revolting virus infested door. I'm about to head upstairs as soon as I step in. When Mr Cheau screams, "Hey!" I turn around, clearly indicating that I don't want to see him for the rest of the night. “This came in mail for you,” Mr Cheau comments as he lifts a shabby cardboard box. I gently move up to the register & examine it, turning it & slightly shaking it. Who would be sending me a box, I wondered? I cast a peek towards Mr Cheau, who appears to be uninterested. I make my way upstairs to my room, astonished that Cheau didn't open the item first, knowing how creepy the peeping bastard is. I managed to get the key into the slot of my door, despite the difficulty. With my right foot, I open & close the door. The hefty ass box was placed on the table. The package was repeatedly & repeatedly badly taped. I dashed to the kitchen to retrieve the rusty & rotten scissors, which had rotting chicken on them. I swung the chicken off the scissors onto the floor & began stabbing through the tape. It's been a few minutes since I've done nothing but that. I was able to remove the last piece of tape from the box before it became too difficult to open. I rip the remaining piece of tape off the box & open it. I'm in a state of confusion, shock, panic & curiosity.

Chapter 4: Colorful tasks

August 17th 7:07PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

A box containing.... A colored envelope? A red envelope? The centre of the envelope was an irregular, non - perfect circle. The red envelope was also on top of something, when I lifted it, I discovered... a gun, a pistol. “Woah!” I shouted. I peered under the weapon, only to discover something else. It wasn't quite as large as the gun but it was just as dark. People with arthritis wouldn't be able to lift the pistol with my shaky hands. I cautiously raise the pistol, a walkie talkie? “The fuck am I going to do with this?” In a trembling voice, I whisper to myself. I put the walkie - talkie down & slowly unboxed the red packet. This thing contains things, objects. I turn the red envelope over & drop the contents on the table. A piece of paper landed on the floor but a bullet landed on the table. I took a step back & scratched my head furiously. As though I were infested with fleas. My heart is pounding with the need for blood. As though I'd just swum, sweat was pouring down my cheeks. I squatted down, slowly & shakily, to the paper that had fallen. it was blank. It's all white. It was lying on the chilly marble ground when I picked it up. I returned to my feet & flipped the paper. It was a photograph.... A photo of Tim! Chained up by the hands, beaten, cut, bleeding, dying. I couldn't breathe. I felt dizzy, as when you get up too quickly after lying down. Mr Cheau slams on the door & screams, “QUIET!” recalling my shouted response to the gun. This is more essential than the old fuck out there, thus I ignore it. “Walkie - Channel 12” The instructions below the photo order. I hurry to the walkie & turn the dial to 12 without hesitation. I'm going to get my friend back. As soon as I change the station to channel 12, I hear muffled but distinct heavy breathing. “Tim Allan, aged 23. Also known as your best friend Mike Richway, oh yes... I know who you are. You may have many questions about where your friend is or who I am but... My identity doesn’t matter, what matters right this moment is your friend. Your poor, cold, fucked up friend. So, today I ask you this, will you complete these.. tasks you can say to see your friend again? Each task you complete gives you a new package sent to your exact apartment. Each package contains an envelope like the one you have now but a different shape and color. To make things fair, if you do not complete a task, your friend will suffer more than he is right now by putting him in unbearable pain, so I would recommend completing all those tasks if I were you. No cheating either or your friend gets a limb off, an arm or a leg? You decide Mike” I throw up on the floor, I feel sick, like, about to die. 

“Listen carefully Mike. 825 Harlem, bring the gun and the bullet.... First task, shoot someone. One last thing, don’t even attempt to go to the police.. You might have some blood on your hands haha” That devilish laugh gives me chills. The channel suddenly cuts off. ”This is the first task!?” I scream in anger & question, “Hello? HELLO?” No one answers. “Fuck” I whisper. I take the items that the person on the other end of the walkie requested. The bullet & the weapon. The single bullet was put into the magazine. I dashed out the door, clutching my keys & concealing the firearm in my pants. “No running, you fuck!” Before I can rush out the stained glass door, Cheau screams at me.

Chapter 5: Red circle

August 17th: 9:20PM

825 Harlem

I'm exhausted from running from Queens to Harlem. “825 Harlem, 825 Harlem, 825 Harlem,” I repeat to myself, my voice hushed & puffed out. I come to a halt, almost passing out, my skin becoming grey. I get down on my hands & knees to try to relax myself now that I don't have any more vomit to throw up. I suddenly had the notion, "Why 825 Harlem?" Why 825 Harlem if the intention is to shoot someone? Fuck it, I'm heading to the old rusty, abandoned toilet factory regardless. Fucking stinks in that place, can’t even go 600 meters tops without smelling like shit. I dash down the street & come across a red circle spray painted on a chocolate colored brick wall. I put my hand on the shape & begin to look down at my fingers, I find that they are smeared with what looks like blood. It had only been 2 hours since the paint had been applied, that’s my guess. I glance around & notice no cameras, so either this place was picked for a reason or this maniac was faithful... Or I got lucky, until I realised that not only were there no cameras in sight but there was also no one else in sight. I peek around the corner & see nothing. My friend is dying & I have to finish this objective of ‘Shooting someone' even though there is no one in sight. “Fuck,” I murmur softly. I was just looking at nothing in the centre of the road. Behind me, a loud revving became louder & louder. I needed to come up with something.. Quickly. The young man who appears to be my age gets out of his car as the car slows down. “Sir, are you... Are you ok?” He questions gently, in a smooth yet sorrowful tone. He squats down next to me, who is laying on the road, as if I were a victim of a hit & run. I fake a hit & run, of all things. Mike, you did a fantastic job. Definitely credible. Even though I was awake, more awake than I'd ever been in my life, more awake than Christmas Eve, he rattles my body to attempt to wake me up. In a panic, I jump to my feet. I'm desperate to retrieve my best friend, my only friend. I take the weapon from my pants & immediately see the terror in the poor boy's eyes, his hands slowly rising in the air, quivering. “Please, please don’t kill me” He begs, “money... Do you want money?” “I don’t want your money” I shout in a broken voice, “Do you.... Have a family?” I continue, the poor man slowly looks up to me & starts shedding tears, “Yyyyee... Yyesss, I have a family,” He goes into the back of his trousers & pulls out his wallet softly. The wallet was in bad shape, when the kid opened it, there was no money in it. He shivers, holding just a folded picture, as he tries to extract it from the shattered wallet. “This is my girlfriend Lina & this is my daughter Mya,” he states as he unfolds the photo & points to the people on it. He points to a sweet lovely girl. She looks beautiful, “How old is your daughter?” I speak with an even more broken voice. “She is 2 next month” The devastated kid responded crushingly. I progressively lower the gun to the earth's core, are these ‘tasks’ worth saving my friend's life? If this is the first challenge, I can't fathom what the rest will be like. With terror in my eyes, I glance up. Fear that what I'm doing is wrong.. It is wrong. I'm well aware of this, I'm well aware that I'm making a mistake. Fucking up a family's life. I can’t do it... I'm not going to do it.

Chapter 6: Family is everything 

August 17th 11:59PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

I returned home sweating, sobbing, enraged, devastated. I refrained from it. I turn on the television to watch the news but it's just a fucking stupid article they made up about how fruit is bad for you, I throw the remote on the table & lie down. “Alex McGee, a young man in his early 20’s has been shot and killed less than 3 hours ago, the murder happened at 825 Harlem. Police are still on the case of what happened. The young man had a wife and a child aged 2. This is what they have to say about the loss of the kind hearted boy.” I look down, hands over my disgusting monstrous face. Drowning in my sorrow, “He never wanted to hurt anyone, he was a good man. If the coward murderer sees this, I hope you’re happy, I hope you got what you wanted, you’re a fucking coward and that’s all you’ll ever be. I hope I get what I want too... Because I want you rotting in an asylum and rotting in hell for the rest of your disgusting days, you FU**ING PIG!” I wish I could say I understand her pain but I don't. All I can think about is the deepest pit of hell that awaits me. Heaven getting further & further. I'm an atheist but if there is such a thing as heaven or hell, I deserve to spend eternity in it. The pit of hell's lowest depths. Justice will be served to the people. I reached for the remote to turn the TV off when another story caught my attention. “Charlie Richway, the dealer who sold drugs to the three minors earlier yesterday afternoon, has recently disappeared. Police are on the case of the missing suspect and have a $4000 reward for this criminal. If you have spotted this man, contact us at...” Before reading any more terrible news, I turn off the media. Listen... I could give a flying fuck about my brother if I wanted to. Will not take a bullet for him, in fact, he would do the same. Not take a bullet for me either. I'm wide awake, despite the fact that it's beyond my bedtime. I can't sleep, eat or even breathe for the life of me. I lock my gaze on my front door. I'm waiting for a knock, the cops, the SWAT squad, perhaps Satan himself to deliver me to my rightful place. If that happened, justice was served. I couldn't take my mind off Tim. My lone friend & I'm battling & murdering others to reclaim him. “Don’t worry Tim, I’ll find you... I promise.” I mutter quietly. My eyes start to feel heavy unexpectedly. I was awake only a minute ago, my vitality has gone out. Now all I want to do is sleep, my heart is unconsciously resting. I try not to close my eyes but I can't help it. They're becoming more heavy. Every blink feels as though someone is placing a ton of pressure on my eyelids. I'm not going to fall asleep, I'm not going to fall asleep.... I'm not….. I'm not asleep...... I'm not going to fall asleep, I check my phone on the bench for the time. 11:22AM? I dozed off? The one thing I tried not to do was go to sleep. Fucking amazing. How? How could I fall asleep through that shit? Just thinking about that has me wide awake, cops definitely haven't discovered the young boy's murderer. In my own eyes, I'm a murderer, a fucking killer. I felt starved, as if I hadn't eaten in two & a half years... But I wasn't hungry. I was starving... But not hungry, which is baffling to me but makes sense in my head. Who could possibly eat after such a heinous crime? I take my keys, which I had left in my pocket the night before & halt to inspect the door handle. Not knowing if I should walk out... “Fuck it,” I grasp the doorknob & hurriedly open the door to walk out, stumbling over a light but shockingly unexpected object as soon as I take the first step. I caught my ass. I notice one of the containers when I glance down. It's the same as the one from last night. I start to perspire since I realise this is a new task... I'm sure this assessment will be far more difficult than the prior one... which was fucking near impossible. I go downstairs to Mr Cheau's front desk. Mr Cheau was still eating his noodles when I asked, "Did you put the package to my door?'' It was strange to see Mr Cheau eat since I had never seen him eat before... Mr Cheau never eats with his dentures in place. He just savours everything he's consuming. After a brief discomfort, Mr Cheau responds, "No." “Did you see anyone bring the packa...” I question. “Fuck off,” Cheau exclaims angrily, his mouth full of rotten expired off brand noodles. I'm furious as I gawk at him, the blind fuck doesn't seem to notice. I wanted to slam the table & shout at him but something kept me from doing so. The knowledge that if I do, I'll be ejected from this establishment. No longer do I have a roof over my head. On the fucking street, to be specific. I sprint back upstairs to the box, grab it & shut the door. Maybe it's just the letter this time, the package was a lot lighter than the previous one. When I place the box on the table, a little rattling can be heard. I close my blinds before attempting to open the box... In case anyone notices me. I returned to the box, it didn't have nearly as much tape as the last one, so I didn't even need the scissors. I just pulled the box apart, which was actually pretty simple. When I open the top, all I see is a blue envelope, nothing else. Instead of a circle, the envelope had a drawn on like square. I take the package in my hands & feel something tiny yet firm within. I'm sure it's another bullet, I'm sure it is. Like the red envelope before it, I turn the envelope upside down. I was accurate, a heavy metal like item dropped out... I had to murder someone with another fucking bullet. Again? That action was already completed by me. Will all of these tasks be murder trials? I reach into the sky coloured envelope to make sure there's nothing else inside. I reach down to the bottom & feel something soft, I take it out to discover a blank note. I turn it over. “Channel 9 - Walkie.” I toss the note to the opposite side of the table, a little angrily but mostly terrified... I'm terrified about my next task. I take one more glance inside the envelope & notice another metal object, which I tip out of the envelope into my palm. A tiny key falls into it. I place the key on the table with care & swiftly grab the walkie. It was an exact instant of the door handle when I paused from turning the device to 9. I take a deep breath & turn the dial to channel 9 as if it were my last. A sudden beep suddenly came on, until the voice... The horrifying cracked up voice returned. “So, you completed the first task, congratulations Mike. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve put another bullet in the envelope. Meaning you have to not only shoot... But kill someone this time” “What the fuck do you mean by that? Not only shoot but kill this time? What the fuck do you mean by that, you cunt?” I whisper into the walkie extremely aggressively in anger. “The previous task was to “Shoot” someone, you can still shoot someone and they still live Mike, thought you would’ve known that.. However, you did drop out in year 11. I told you specifically to listen carefully, you obviously did not. Instead you decided to kill the young boy. The poor boy with a wife and a daughter. Think about it Mike, how Alex’s family will feel about the death of their loved one. Hopefully they don’t find the killer.” I pause for a moment to consider what I've just done. I didn't have to murder the kid, I could've simply shot him in the foot or someplace else that wouldn't kill him. I return to the walkie & place my mouth close to it. “What you're telling me is that.. I killed an innocent kid for nothing?” “Correct, haha.” The laugh was dark & deep. I felt a shiver down my spine as if it just broke, I have cold sweats, goosebumps around my body, skin turning white... Like Dracula took the final drop of my blood. “Now, this time.. Listen to me Mike, 255 Alfred. Same as before, bring the key & the gun, load the magazine with the bullet. Time is precious.. Don’t waste it.” The walkie shuts off again. I wanted to smash it, shatter it in half but that would surely ruin my possibility of reuniting with Tim. As I prepare to take on this sick little game, I begin to breathe deeper & heavier. I reload the magazine & stow the weapon in my pants once again. I begin to take the tiny ass key & stash it in my pocket. The pistol is unpleasant in my underwear at first but after a few minutes you grow used to it. I slam the door open & make my way down the stairs carefully. I keep an eye on the register & the area around it. How... No matter how bad things are in a dangerous or tough circumstance, you may still discover some beauty in it. I take one final step towards the door. I gradually open it by grasping the chilly but pleasant handle. The sun is beaming on the street as I step out. The sky is more blue than a.... Ah fuck it, I can't even maintain a positive emotion for more than 4 seconds. I dash to the address given to me by the person on the other end of the line. I've lived in New York for so long that I know the names of every site. I know where I'm heading.

Chapter 7: Blue Square 

August 18th 12:33PM

255 Alfred

255 Alfred, alright. Not as far as 825 Harlem, to be sure. How the fuck do I recall that. It makes no difference. This time, I didn't have to run until I was on the verge of passing out. I took as much time as I needed to complete the task. Fear of murdering another innocent life has made my body tremble. Alfred, I was on the right path. I searched the area for a blue square. The street was close to empty. A few cars or pedestrians would go past me. Given that the first task had a red circle spray painted on it, you'd think this one would have a blue square, right? Right? “Where the fuck are you?” I faintly say. I was referring to the square, not the person who abducted my innocent friend.. Though I'd like to know where he is as well. Break his fingers, legs, his fucking neck. I go along the concrete road & come upon blue spray paint skids. I follow the trail of the dark yet light blue paint until it disappears behind a building, disappears into an alleyway. I walk around the corner to see nothing but full trash cans where rats have been feasting since the 1920s epidemic. I sigh, "There's nothing here." Without moving, I gently begin to examine the place. The blue trail has come to a halt. Slowly, I turn around to discover a rusty door... with the blue square. I wish I could say it was fantastic news that I got the clue. Here is where I'm supposed to be. A metal bike chain wraps around the handles. When I touched the necklace with my hands, it was obviously clean... There is no rust. The chain was very recently purchased. The lock was also not corroded. I take the key from my front left pocket & grasp the lock. I ‘try' to place the key in the hole with trepidation. It's nearly impossible. Despite the fact that time was running short, I was able to get it in. As I twist the key, the lock opens, the chain automatically untangles & makes a loud clank when it hits the ground. I take the pistol from my pants. I didn't precisely stand there but further away from the door, as I grabbed the handle & opened the door. I've watched so many movies that I was terrified I'd get shot or something. There was no action. I mean, it's just completely quiet... There was a dog barking a few blocks away but that was it. I take a step forward & turn to face the door, as if I were a detective searching for a missing criminal. When I go in, the only sound I hear is pipes cracking “How old is this fucking place?” I see a set of stairs, I'm not sure how far up they go. I'm squandering my time. With my gun aimed skyward, I slowly yet cautiously climb up the steps, one at a time. My gun? This gun isn't mine, no way. I'm not eager to own a firearm. All I want is for my friend to be safe. I go up three more flights of steps till I get to a door. It's just an old rusty door. This time, the door handle is round. I turn the knob but the door is locked, nonetheless, the key may work for this door as well. It's worth a try. I gently insert the key into the hole & twist it. I remove the key & place it back in my pocket. I twisted once again, this time... The handle extends backwards. With terror, I yanked the door open without thought. It was pitch black for a fraction of a second before these massive beams of light shone down on my face. These lights were blindingly intense, even brighter than the sun. My eyes hurt as I scream in anguish. I try & attempt to open my eyes, it's futile. The brightness causes tears to fall down my cheeks. I was able to see again once the lights dimmed. I take a step inside the battered door. I glance viscously to my right.. Seats? There are a lot of seats, carpet seats. I take another look at what's going on. To try to figure out where I am. When I glance behind me, I notice a large curtain. Red, same like the theatres. I've figured out where I'm at… But why here? A theatre? I walk toward where the two curtains from each end of the huge open stage where I’m standing meet. I take one of the curtains & prepare to open it to discover what lies behind these massive blankets. I hear a voice just before I'm ready to do so. On the walkie, the same filthy voice. “I wouldn’t do that if I were,” I jump from fright & quickly point the gun towards the voice... However, no one was around. “What happens if I do?” I question with confidence. “Tim will have to crawl for the rest of his life.” I understood what that statement meant, I don't want Tim to lose his legs. Tim doesn't want to be an amputee, I'm sure. Obviously, I'll still like Tim but... It's better for him to have legs, you know. I take a step back from the curtain. “Where are you?” I begin to question, “I can promise you one thing, I’m nowhere near you. Never will be until the final assignment, Mike. So don’t even try looking for me, you’ll just be wasting your time. That doesn’t matter now. What matters is the task you’re about to... compete in.” The voice begins to speak in a very welcoming way as if we are actually doing a live performance, “Ladies & Gentlemen... For one night only, a very humbled guest is about to witness a very humble task. Please welcome to the stage, the one, the only...” As the curtains change from one end of the stage to the other, I look back. I see a man with a rope around his body & duct tape over his lips who I don't recognise. Until…. “Charlie Richway!” In a frantic tone, the fragmented voice shouts. I'm supposed to kill my fucking brother? No way… No fucking way, “Get him out!” I shout angrily at the top of my lungs. I've previously stated that I am unconcerned about my brother... But I'm not going to shoot my own fucking family. My brother was wounded, terrified. It's the first time I've seen him scared. He was apprehensive, conscious of his surroundings. “Now Mike, it is obvious that you know your brother quite well, you know... Falsely accusing you and your mother and also your poor deceased father for a hold of highly illegal drugs. So, I give you this choice today. Let him go but your friend suffers more... Or.. You can kill him, making your friend not suffer as much but as a result.. Losing family, putting more blood on your hands. Time is ticking Mike.” The voice becomes silent in the same way as the walkie. I stare at my sorrowful, pained brother. I immediately pull one end of the duct tape from around his mouth. I examine the tape. I find that it has torn some of his mustard stained beard hair from his face. “Let me go Mike” My brother cries in fear. I aim the gun directly between his two eyes.“Let you go? Huh? After what you did to me, To Mom, To Dad!” I cry “I know, please. I’m sorry, I really am sorry. I.. I.. JUST HELP ME MIKE!” My brother wailed in agony. I feel sorry for him, I'm saddened by what he's become. I started to put the pistol down gently, still facing him. “Please Mike... I’m your brother.” I start to fall into a deep despair, a soul crushing misery. I drew the weapon fully down, away from one of my few remaining family members. “Ok, I’ll let you go... But... I’m also gonna take you in” I approach my brother to untangle his pathetic ass. Hands tangled in a tight knot. It surprised me that it didn't cut his blood clot. Purple hands, which was a regal tint for a non royal person. As I was untying the last knot, the scratchy felt rope slipped from his grip. I grabbed the long strand, before he kicked the chair towards me, grabbing the firearm, pointing it at me in the same manner I pointed it at him. Right in the middle of my eyes.“You are such a fucking idiot, you’re not taking me anywhere. This... This little game you’re playing, got me out of a lot of shit. I was saved right after nearly fucking being arrested and sent away,” Charlie establishes. “Why’d you sell the drugs to those kids then?” I question in curiosity “Whatever chance I get to make extra dough, I take it.” Charlie is unafraid to shoot me. His cunt, smug face says it all. Charlie pulls the slide back until aiming it up to me without reluctance. He prepares to shoot. I'm not sure why but... I had no fear of dying back then.. Maybe since I knew it would be short & painless. I was prepared to visit Satan in hell. I straightened up & was prepared to take my last breath. A sudden light blinds Charlie directly above me, Charlie loses his balance along with his social awareness. I seize the opportunity to go towards him at high speed. I wasn't going to die today. I tackle him to the ground. After we're both down, I get on top of the monster & start punching him. I thought he'd die from the number of forceful strikes I was giving him. I simply continued punching & punching & punching. My hand was bleeding, puddles of blood but Charlie was far worse. His face soaked in blood, as if it had been painted by a clown at a birthday party. Every time I hit, I hit harder & harder. I took the gun & pulled the trigger in the centre of Charlie's face, no delay. The gun's force was so great that it pushed me off him. I fell on my side, laying on the ground, after feeling my wrist pop. There were no more tears in my eyes. I know it's terrible.. But I believe he got justice. At least in my opinion. I arose with a swollen but not broken wrist. I examined Charlie's face… What was remained of it. His dark repulsive brain was visible. I could see both of his eyes, including the stringy part. I'm not sure how or why… But it has no impact on me. I'm not feeling ill or a need to vomit. I just have a feeling... No regret. I believe I made the correct decision. It was either kill or be killed. I leave in the same manner that I entered. I was drenched in a monster's blood. I had to conceal myself in some way, no matter what it took. I walked outdoors to get some fresh air, to be honest, rubbish smelled fresher than I did. I search around for something to put on, a shirt, a sheet, anything. Fortunately, there was a trash bag underneath the trash can. I punch a hole through the bag so my head could fit through. I start walking back home.

Chapter 8: Too much fun 

August 18th 1:48PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

The sun was going down, the weather was changing. Was it enjoyable? Yes, I believe so. It was enjoyable for me. For the past hour & a half, I've been walking home. Fortunately, I was only a block away. Only a few people, if any, realised I was wearing a garbage bag over my head for the duration of my stroll. I wasn't paying attention at the time. When I got to my apartment, I looked inside to check whether Mr Cheau was there. The bald fuck isn't there, much to my surprise. I enter with the bag still on me. I hear a loud pounding sound, like a thumping. "Not again," I grumble. For fuck's sake, two people fucking next to my room. I jog upstairs at a decent pace to come upon Mr Cheau in the corridor, near the door where the couple were having sex. I assume the block can hear everything since the moaning is so openly loud. Mr Cheau's head was pressed against the door, his left ear was forced against it. He shakes his right hand around in his pocket. In the face of what appears to be suffering. It was clear he wasn't in any discomfort. It didn't take long for me to figure out what was going on. Mr Cheau gives out a little yelp as I cough loudly. A yelp, not a scream. He rushes by me, his hand out of his pocket, as if nothing had occurred. As he descends the steps, I keep an eye on him. I unlock my door & turn around. I enter my room & remove the damp bag. I toss it in the garbage. I then put on new clothing before heading to the moulded bathroom, where the mirror is cracked as well as smeared with oily fingerprints. I use the dark water to wash the blood off my hand. I know, it's not very hygienic. However, I need to remove the blood off my skin somehow. Each knuckle on my hand hurts as though a needle is injecting me. I don't give a fuck if it hurts. I couldn't care less. For the past two days, I've had enough agony. I switch off the water & use this shredded towel to dry it. All I can hear is the squeaking of a bed against the wall of my bedroom. The guy is going all out for the girl. His grunts like those of a... Gorilla or a bodybuilder. The Hulk fucking Wonder Woman. Something had to be done before they messed up my bedroom wall. It has happened in the past. In this shithole, the walls are porous. They must be using cardboard or whatever they can get their hands on. I'm amazed Mr Cheau still attracts customers to his establishment. Even if it's for fucking. Maybe they have a kink for having sex in filthy places. I couldn't stand it any longer. I approach their room next door & softly knock. No response, still continue fucking & groaning. I increase the volume of my knock. Still fucking, thrusting over & over, almost nonstop. This time I knock on the door louder with my fist. Finally, they come to a halt, I hear some unbuckling, was the girl restrained? I'm not interested in knowing. The door opens & a large, topless, muscular man appears in front of me. I wasn’t expecting the size of this guy, his grey beanie is the size of me. “Hey sir, I was just wondering if you coul....” “Sir?” He shouts angrily, I look behind him to see the female smoking on the bed. The entire room smells like weed or marijuana, I notice a stick like artifact on the bed as I glance down. a strap on of some type. Oh… “Oh my god.. I’m so fucking sorry. I thought you were a... you two are les.... right. I’m terribly sorry” I squeak to the muscular ‘Woman’ “The fuck you want?” “I was wondering if you could keep it down, I live next door & can see you want to have sex but you have to kee....” The muscular woman smashes the door in my face, almost breaking my nose. I knock once again. I don't want to hear them fucking at all. The woman pulls open the door, almost destroying it. She pulls my shirt & whispers as I'm about to speak. “Listen you fucking extra chromosome retard. I’m here fucking my girlfriend’s ass. So if you got a problem with that, I suggest you fucking off somewhere else because a faggot like you isn’t gonna stop us. If you knock on this door again, I will kill your entire fucking family.” Each uttered word sounded like a scream or a roar. She slams the door shut once more, this time removing a few screws. Kill my family huh? Now I'm going to kill you. I wasn't sure what I was thinking at the moment, to be honest. As a result, I just went for it. I was able to kick the door down easily since the screws had come out of the door. The women were going to do it all over again, placing the object in her… Thing. I yanked the pistol from my pants before they could. Yes, I am aware. It was a bit excessive but like I already explained, I wasn't thinking clearly. “Get down on the ground you fucking dyke” When I moved my sight to the other lesbian, I noticed that she was extremely thin, as if she hadn't eaten in two weeks. Still holding a cigarette in her right hand, maybe that explains it. I lost my focus on the muscular dyke that she punched me in my chin. Making me lose my grip of the gun & knocking me to the ground. She gets up, beginning to walk toward a wooden baseball bat. She kicks the gun to the other side of the room & begins to take swings. I stand up, literally in a corner. She takes one full powered swing toward me, I luckily duck in time for the bat to miss me & break in half. She grabs my neck & throws me toward the bed. Where fortunately the gun was. The gun was swiftly under the bed. I crawl as fast as I can, I’m almost there. The man like woman flips me over & begins to choke me. Jesus Christ was she strong. I was trying to gasp for air, trying to push her off, slapping her, scratching her. She just wouldn’t get off. I see death from the corner of my eye. Ready to take me. Until I managed to grab the firearm & swing it toward the woman’s face. She loses her strength & grip around my neck. I get up in a rush with a pleasant inhale of oxygen. I point the weapon at the back of the dyke’s head, even though the pistol wasn’t loaded. In terror, the muscular woman begins to plead for her life. “Please, please don’t kill me” “What happened huh? You make threats that you want to kill my family? Well let me tell you something you nazi...” Nazi? God, I’m starting to sound like Mom. I squat down next to the woman’s ear & whisper in frustration, “My friend is suffering right now & the only way I can find him is to complete these fucking nearly goddamn impossible tasks. You wanna kill my family? Well guess what. I already killed my brother & now my mother is the only family I actually have left & care about. Now, what I want you to do is.. You & your girlfriend put your clothes back on, walk out the door & pretend none of this happened. If I find out you went to the police, bullet right between your fucking chest.. Do you understand?” She nods several times. She rose up & they both quickly changed into their shirts & pants before departing. I was in a state of complete disbelief. I can't believe I did that, especially when the weapon wasn't even loaded... I came to a realisation that I sounded a lot like him. Like the voice. Am I losing my mind? Is he getting to me? No, no, I'm not going to let him. I can't. I jolt back to reality & make my way to my room via the broken door. I come to a stop in front of my door, I notice something. Another box. He was here!!!  I grab the package, dashed into my room as fast as I could. I slam the door shut & put the box on my kitchen counter. As if it were Christmas morning, I tear the package open. When I open the object, I notice Tim's iPhone X. It was charged.. 100%. Tim's password is a mystery to me, he always kept it a secret. What was on here that was so hidden? I put the phone down & look at the envelope inside the item. The envelope in green. There was a triangle on this one. To weigh the envelope, I raise it & hold it. It's not too bulky, which is a plus. Though I sincerely hope so. I take things out of the packet & place it in my hand. It's only one note this time, no bullet, just a note. I read the marker written note carefully. “Walkie - Channel 6” There is more writing below the walkie information, “Tim’s password - 8255” I'm puzzled as to why this was his code. I couldn't decide what to do first, check the phone or use the walkie. Fuck it. Phone. When I put the code 8255 into Tim's phone, it unlocks. Okay, he's not lying, so that's good. I have no idea what to look for. Question is the first thing that comes to mind. When we were drinking hot chocolate together, who was Tim talking to? I assumed that was his college. I first check his messages & contacts, which are all gone, next I check his history, which is also gone. lastly, I check his apps, fucking gone. What exactly am I looking for? I'm troubled, is this a ruse? A diversion? I put the phone down & take out the walkie, which I dial from 9 to 6. I wait for his voice, listening for it. His un - sacred voice. “Well done Mike, you put on quite the show at the theatre. I’m proud, showing no regret whatsoever. I would watch it again.. Oh but.. it was a one time only show. Damn shame.” “What is my next task asshole?'' I whispered angrily “Ah, I think I’m getting to you. Already wanting to start off with the objective. I actually do have a question for you Mike, have you seen them?” Seen them? Seen what? Who? “Seen what?” I question in a sudden. “Oh, so you haven’t. Well, I’ll recommend you.. Looking at Tim’s photos, it took a lot of effort to make him look nice and ready.” I glance down at Tim's phone, enter the same PIN & touch the photo app very gently. I bring the phone up to my face. Tim has fresh cuts on him. Blood all over his body, vomit running down his chest. His feet above the ground. “Listen here you motherfucker, if you put him through anymore pain, I’ll kill you” “Sure thing Mike, oh and one more thing.. Because I feel a bit generous. Contact me in exactly an hour. Same dial, number 6. See you then” The walkie disconnects. What's the point of an hour? What's going on then? I take another look at Tim's phone to see how damaged he is. I can tell he doesn't want to live any longer by his expression. He wishes for his pain to come to an end.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Chapter 9: Green triangle 

August 18th 2:03PM

Cheau’s 5 star apartment 

I proceed down the stairs to meet Mr Cheau, assuming he saw who delivered the box to my door. “Did you see who left the package at my door?” I ask, rushing to the register, he either ignored me or has a hearing impairment. I'm in desperate need of answers, I need them now. “Mr Cheau!” I scream, my fist slamming into the glass surface. Almost destroying the whole thing. I only chipped it, thankfully. Mr Cheau yelps with a frightened jump. I don't think he can scream. Like rats, he can only squeal. They don't actually scream, instead they squeak & hiss. “Did you or did you not see who put the package at my door?” “I.. I put it there” Mr Cheau says with fear in his eyes. “How did you get the package?” I asked in a rush. He wouldn’t answer, “I’m gonna ask one more time, how did you get the package?” Still.. Mr Cheau has no response. I found you cunt, I said I was going to make you pay for torturing my friend. I take Cheau's head & slam it on the counter. The force & my strength were so powerful that the entire desk broke. I hoisted him over the cash register, onto the cold marble floor. His little yelps of despair make me feel no sympathy for the kidnapping, murdering, cunt he is. “Where the fuck is my friend!?” I yell. I grab Cheau by the neck & start punching him, like I did with Charlie. Hoping he’ll bleed to death, “I can... I can get your friend back. I just need... time” Cheau adds. I punch him as hard as I could, nearly killing him. “Time? You give me these tasks to kill people & now you want time? Fuck you Cheau!” I let go of him & reach for the desk phone, dialling 911. You're fucking going to prison, you old cunt. “911, what’s your emergency?” “Yes hello, I need the police right away at Cheau’s 5 star apartment ASAP.” That’s the name of the place, not even kidding, “Cheau’s 5 star apartment,” Scamming fuck. I hang up the phone & wait, I wait.... & wait... & wait... & fucking wait. Time passes, feels like I called a week ago. I look at the clock above Cheau’s desk. I’ve been waiting for 47 minutes? Where the fuck are they? I see Cheau on the floor. Bleeding, flooding the floor with blood. I still feel no remorse for what I did, cunt got what he asked for. I hear sirens becoming louder & louder as they approach the apartment. In front of the flat, I notice a little police vehicle park. It's only two cops? Two fucking police officers, not a SWAT team? Fucking shit. The policemen enter cautiously, their focus fixed on Cheau. “What the fuck took you so long!? I called you guys nearly a fucking hour ago!” I scream to my heart’s contempt. “Sir, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened” One of the officers suggests while unbuckling his gun holster. To make it clear that I'm not intending to harm them, I calm down. “Alright, this man has kidnapped my best friend & has been sending me these boxes full of these... tasks or objectives to hurt others to find him.” I see the other cop wrapping a big bandage over Cheau's head as I look over. Just leave the fucker to die. “Do you have any... proof or evidence of this happening?” I... Shit, I don’t. Wait.. Wait, the cameras. There are four CCTV cameras around the room, in each corner. It surely has evidence on that. “Yes.. yes, the cameras can prove it” I answer in an obviously noticeable nervous tone. “You mind if I take a look?” “Be my guest officer, I got sent the box at around 2:00PM today” “Do you.... Do you still have the box with you?” The other officer asked in reasonable question. “No, I uh... I threw it out” Threw it out? Great job Mike, you fucking idiot. Threw it out. “You can just grab it out of your trash ca....” The cop quickly responds. “No, I mean like... thrown it out.. yeah, out the window.” The window? Even better. I observe the other cop pick up Cheau & carry him out the door. I examine the clock that hangs above the cash register. “I’m uhh.. Gonna go to my room. Alright, knock if you need anything, ok?” I say trying to reason with the officer. It’s pretty fucking obvious something’s up. I notice the officer checking for evidence on Cheau's Computer. I dash to my door, carefully closing it behind me. I pay attention to what the police have to say. I can't make out a word since it's all muffled. A beep from the walkie comes on all of a sudden. “Mike, Mike, Mike.. Well done, I don’t know what’s a better show. The theatre, the dykes, Mr Cheau or that the police are on the way to your door any minute for assaulting an innocent man?'' Wait.. Mr Cheau isn’t him? I assaulted another innocent man. WHAT THE FUCK? Cheau was not responding to my inquiries regarding the package. I felt he was the murderer. I quickly grab the walkie. “You fucking motherfucker... What do I do?” “Run, no matter where you go, I’ll find you way quicker than the cops will, trust me. Just because the SWAT team are outside your… “Home” doesn’t mean the other packages won’t come and the tasks will stop, ah, also bring Tim’s phone along with your weapon” The voice says calmly, His tone is similar to that of a teacher speaking to a student. He has a thorough understanding of the problem & is well versed in all possible solutions. “Why can’t I bring my phone?” “Mike. You don’t think they won’t track your IP? Huh? Very disappointed Mike. You better run, aggressively knocking incoming” The banging at my door was so loud that it nearly knocked me out. The explosion was deafening. It's like being close to a balloon that explodes. It was similar to that… Just bigger. “Mike Richway, come out with your hands up. You are arrested for assaulting an innocent man, anything you say can and will be used agai....” Before they could complete that stupid quote, I slammed the door open & knocked the two policemen down. As I was ready to step down from the top of the stairwell, one of the policemen fired a shot at me, I heard the bullet whistle past my ear. I was fortunate enough to make it to the front door. Unfortunately, it was made of a brittle glass that had already shattered three times this year. “Don’t move, we’ve got the place completely surrounded” My steps get sluggish. A whole SWAT squad emerges from their black vehicles. They approach cautiously, shields up, covering their entire bodies. As if I were armed with a rocket launcher or something. As they get closer, they're about a ruler away from me. I thought this was it, the end of my life… Well.. Until random rounds were fired behind the SWAT unit from a distance. I had no idea who or what it was. When I saw my opportunity, I took it. I just kept running till I felt like stopping, which was never. The gunfire continued, with some aimed at the buildings & some at me. The impact of the bullet shattered the glass of the stores. I ran down the alleyway. The SWAT team raced through the passageway at the speed of light & sound. They were successful but not quick enough. In a reaction of confusion & demand to find me... No matter at what cost. I got away in a nick of time, they won’t find me. They won't for a while, knowing the police department, if they couldn’t find Charlie, they won't be able to find me. Ahhh! I'm still making comparisons to Charlie. Fuck it, I guess it's in the blood, we both get what we deserve. On this planet, hell has arrived. Yes, innocent people are being harmed. I am in fact his brother. I'm every bit as monstrous as he is.... Perhaps even worse.

Chapter 10: Yellow diamond missing

August 18th 6:30PM

Mrs Richway’s home

I've been running for hours now. Mom is the only person I know who could help me. I'm hoping she handles the issue appropriately. She has to. She's the last remaining member of my family. I leap over the fence & sprint for the door, just missing the bear traps she's set up across the yard. “Mom? You in there?” I yell out. She rushes out with one of her pistols, “Step back you cunt fuck” Mom says pointing the gun between my chest. “Mom, it’s me.. Mike” “I know it’s you Michael. I don’t want to see you ever again, after the shit you’ve done, killing innocent people. I thought you were smarter than your brother.. But you’re just like him” That sentence right there.. Fucking hurt. “How do you know I killed people?” I question. I really did want to know how she knew. “You’re on the news fuck face, $11,000 reward for you” “Mom, I’m being tested. You remember Tim Allan? He has been kidnapped, he is suffering more & more as we speak. This “Guy” whoever he is.. Is testing me, the only way I can get my friend back is to...” Mum quickly lowers her gun to the floor & interrupts, “Shut up and get in Micheal” I dash inside without hesitancy. As I pass into the living room, I notice that I'm on Mom’s TV. “He has also been convicted of the murder of Alex McGee, if you’ve seen this man, contact us at...” Mom switches off the television. In the reflection, all I see is a monster, maybe I should turn myself in. It's strange to see your face on the news. I've always wanted to appear on television. I guess I got my wish. Mom offers me my favourite drink, which she used to make for me when I was a kid. It smelled & tasted like hot chocolate from my childhood. If only this was a piece of fantasy. I believe this is the appropriate moment to inform Mom of Charlie's situation. “Mom, I uhm.. I shot Charlie... In self defence” I didn’t know how she would react. My instinct would be saddened, heartbroken, shattered, ripped apart. “Really? Son of a bitch finally, I thought he’d never die. Better him than you Michael. Putting a bad name on our family, practically killing your father. If only he can see you now, a big man” I was astonished by her reaction, which was a really pleasant one. I was speechless. ‘A big man?' I'm not a big man, in fact, I'm barely a man. I'm ready to tell her all there is to know about my life... “Mom, I.. I’m not a man, I got no purpose in life, I live in a fucking 2.5 star apartment. I’m suffering everyday, I’m suffering even more since Tim is missing. Work hasn’t called me in for a while. I’m not making any money. I’m just a... Nobody.” “Are you out of your fucking mind Micheal? A nobody? You’re risking a lifetime in prison to save your friend. A “Nobody” wouldn’t do that, would he? You’re my only family I have left Micheal and I love you... So much. Your father does too. I’m not gonna be in this world for long. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. So I’ll ask you this. Are you gonna pussy out.. Or gonna get your friend back?” Mom remained composed throughout the ordeal. But she was correct. I'm going to battle for my friend. We were both startled when we heard a loud beep coming from the walkie. “Mike, if you haven’t noticed you are extremely predictable. If I may add, it’s so nice meeting you Mrs Richway. Your son has put on quite a show. Don’t worry, this is the last place police would try to find you. Say, when was the last time your mother checked her mail?” The channel cuts off once again. I’m at a stop before going outside to check her mailbox. I cautiously open it, I see a yellow packet inside the mailbox. I take it out with precaution. I rush back inside to the kitchen where Mom is fiddling with the walkie. “Fuck, another task Mom, get back from the packet” I suggest. She is attentive & listens. I take the pack, alongside the firearm & Tim's iPhone.. Which I pulled from my pants. I open the box with vengeance. There was another envelope, which came as no surprise. There is more than one item in this bundle. Sharp…. A butcher knife? Like the ones used to chop the legs off pigs & cows. It was oxidized to the point that the blade might snap off with a single touch. The hue of the envelope was the same as a man's urine after consuming too much sodium. Yellow. This was a diamond form. I rip open the soiled envelope & toss everything inside onto the table. Mom is standing behind me, her pistol aimed at the envelope. It was only a note that came out. “Channel 3 - Walkie.” Mom turns the walkie herself to channel 3. Mom hands it to me with assurance, she was always fearless. She always found a way to get past anything that stood in her way. “Mike, you are so, so close to revealing the truth of my identity. Am I allowed to say you did a good job? Well, you did. Now, the next location isn’t exactly in the city. Neither is your Mother’s house. You see how I put one of those knives in your package. Unfortunately, you're gonna have to cut something off but don’t worry, it doesn’t involve your mother. Take a look in her back garden and tell me if you see something out of the ordinary'' I walk to the garden, my leg trembling as if it were winter. Mom used to have one of those old squeaky sliding doors. A loud stream accompanied each thrust. I went outdoors to have a look around & noticed something painted yellow. It was one of those dreadful shapes. A piss colored diamond, I gently touch it with my hand. It was extremely dry. “You fucker, how long ago did you do this?” I question in fear. “If I shall be honest. A few days ago.” Fuck, Mom's eyes were always sharp... But like attempting to pick something up with buttery palms, the bastard slid through her goddamn fingers. “Now Mike, your task is to cut off a body part of yours” I can’t do that, cut off an organ? No, I won’t do that. I can’t deal with pain. The walkie cuts off in a static tone. “I’ll do it..” Mom says calmly. “The bastard was here and I didn’t even fucking notice” Mom continues. “Mom, it’s not your fault. Let’s get inside, we’re not cutting off anything of yours ok” I bring Mom's chilly body inside, shut the sliding door & we both stand in front of the fireplace. Mom takes extra notice with her gun in case the bastard is still here. I don’t wanna be in anymore pain, Mom used to buy me a lot of organ toys. Now I have to cut off an organ, fuck. Wait... Wait, can’t I pretend to cut off my finger? I whisper very quietly in Mom’s ear “Do you still have those fake body part toys you bought for me as a kid?” She nods, as she understands what I'm saying. I notice Dad's photograph on their bed as she walks into her room. It's reassuring to know she still recalls him. She gently & discreetly removes a box containing both mine & Charlie's toys. What happened to a kid who went from trucks to drugs? That doesn't sit well with me. She takes one of my old toy fingers & secretly gives it to me. While she tucks the box away, I stow it in my pocket. I go back to the kitchen & take a seat at the table. I lay my right hand on the table & descend the ring finger as she surreptitiously conceals ketchup beneath my chair. “I’m gonna scream as loud as I can, so don’t believe it ok” I spoke to Mom in hushed tones, so softly that I didn't hear what I said. She takes my left hand in hers & begins to lift the knife. With some difficulty & deliberation... She manages to slash the finger by swinging down. I scream to the limit of my lungs. I kick the ketchup bottle out of sight, leaving “Blood” all over the floor. I continue to scream, I assume Mom thinks I'm in pain, she may have mistakenly thought she'd chopped off my finger. I pretend to almost pass out in front of the fireplace. I hear on the walkie, the dismantling voice. “Congratulations Mike.. And well done to you Mrs Richway. You have some balls to do it, not as cowardly as I thought. Considering you just completed a really really painful task, I’m gonna give you a little treat. A one minute conversation with Tim. Hang on, let me put him on.” I hear Tim’s cold & shaken breathing in the walkie after a long pause. “Mike? Are you there?” “Tim? Tim, you’re gonna be alright. I’m gonna get you ok, just hang on in there” I’m trying to stay focused about my fake amputated finger but it’s hard to do so when I hear my only friend’s crushed voice on the call. “Mike, I don’t think... I don’t think I can hold on longer, WHY CAN’T YOU JUST KILL ME!?” Tim sounds... crumbled. “No, don’t say that Tim. You’re my only friend & I’ve done so much shit to get you back. Life without you is nothing. I love you man, you’re not gonna die, I’m gonna find you. No matter how many fingers I need to chop off.. Or how many people I have to shoot. I will find you” “Aww, how sweet. Sorry but Tim heard none of that. Oh well, the next package will be sent to you in a couple of hours Mike. Prepare for the last task because.. It’s a joy ride” I toss the walkie on the table & turn to face Mom, who is sitting in her rocking chair, watching the fireplace. I wrap my arms around her & give her a big hug. It's as if I'm seeing her for the final time. She appears to be at ease. How do you unwind in the midst of all of this? I lie down next to the fireplace & close my eyes gently. I feel secure with Mom because she won't allow anyone to injure me, she can use her pistol if necessary. I suddenly am aware of a tap on my shoulder. I open my eyes swiftly to Mom. She gave me the last package. “When did this arrive?” I ask, “I don’t know.. I fell asleep. I saw it at the front door,” How the fuck did we sleep through this. Somethings not right, I let out one of the biggest yawns in my life. It was pleasant & satisfying. “What time is it?” I asked curiously. I look at her clock, the clock is old but still amazingly working. 2:28AM. I couldn't tell if I was weary or energized, the human body is bewildering. At least in my case. I made a scissor motion to Mom, she immediately understood what I meant. Instead of scissors, she returns to the living room with a knife. Whatever opens the package doesn't matter. With each stab into the box, I came dangerously close to cutting myself. As I was ready to open it, Mom took out her gun once again & pointed it at the item. Finger on the trigger. I take the package out of the box. I notice the purple envelope. The final envelope.

Chapter 11: Purple rectangle 

August 19th 2:30AM

Mrs Richway’s home 

I take the envelope off the table. I paused for some reason, perhaps because I was afraid. Mike, just go for it. Just do it. I examine the form. Rectangle. Before I begin to open it, I concentrate on Mom for most of the remaining time. The handgun is still in her hand, fingers are on the trigger. The contents of the envelope are tossed upon the carpet. I'm so relieved that I don't have to do this anymore. The final item. This note is the one that scares me the most. Tim, lacking a leg on the right side. I puke on Mom's carpet. The fucking cunt really chopped off his fucking leg. Blood dripping down. Below the photo, once more scribbled in marker, “Walkie - Channel 1” I return to the kitchen to grab the walkie. I switch the dial to the final number... 1. “Well done Mike, you must be proud of yourself. Completing these challenges must not have been easy but you still compl....” I interrupt before he continues with his cunt voice. “Listen you fucking cunt. Why is Tim missing a fucking leg!?” “Poor Mike, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to listen carefully. I told you not to cheat, you don’t think I know you used your old toys. You really are fucking clueless. Naive, now… Do you want the location for Tim or not?” I took my time thinking about how stupid it was that I was playing with a toy. Why did I believe a fucking toy would work? I suspected it would work. I'm really not the sharpest tool in the shed.“Where.. Is.. My friend?” I questioned in anger once again. “825.... Harlem, in the abandoned toilet factory... see you the....” I tossed the walkie across the room. The first envelope contained the clue the whole time? Fuck! I wasn't required to shoot my brother in any way. My friend was directly in front of me. I'm enraged & angry. My face becomes crimson, purple all of a sudden. I return to the living room with Tim's phone & the pistol, hugging my wonderful mother. “Thank you for everything” I cry while wrapping my arms around one of the most important people in my life. “Don’t thank me for anything Micheal. I’m just being a mother” Mom replies in the softest voice I've heard in 22 years of being alive. I dash out the door heading for the city. The sirens are growing louder & louder. As though I just had two minutes to save my friend, I flee for my life. I don't believe they didn’t notice me, they're parked in front of Mom's house, I see SWAT officers with their shields raised, just like they did when they were about to arrest me. 

825 Harlem

I continued to run. I feel like I've just been running for a few minutes. It's an odd sensation. The roads simply kept getting longer & longer the past few times I ran. In my mouth, I can almost taste the factory, a sewer like odour. I just stand there staring, attempting to locate the rectangle. There was no evidence of paint, either. I take the firearm from my pants & hold it straight. I make my way to the back of the massive facility. Even though it's dark, I can see. To get around the corner, I take a few steps away from the structure. I'm terrified of being attacked. I'm going to great lengths to protect myself. I believe I have the right to take all necessary measures. I cast a glance over my left shoulder to see the severely dented & damaged door. The unprofessionally spray painted rectangle on the door appears to be dried. Which smells cheap. It stains my fingertips but it crumbles. It's been at least two days. I sprang over the door, almost stumbling but managing to stay on my feet. I sprint up the stairwell, knowing there are many more ahead. I immediately make my way upstairs. Tim's presence & grief are palpable. When I get to the bottom of the stairwell, I notice one of those butcher shop curtains. A processing facility for meat. I run through the curtains & hide, aiming around the room, blood all over the curtains. My back & cheeks were drenched in sweat. On a big door, I notice some lettering. It becomes more vibrant as I go closer to it. 

FINAL TASK.. FORGIVE

 I thought as I looked at the inscription. Forgive? Is it possible to forgive someone who kidnapped my friend? Who amputated his leg? Who compelled me to assassinate my family? Fuck you. I hear Tim’s screams. Not very clearly but I can hear him. I hear you buddy. Fuck this bullshit... I kick the door wide open. I felt the energy reverberate through my bones, weakening them. I remain firm, ready to confront this heinous crime. I hear a burst of music coming from some type of speaker, it's a familiar tune. It’s been a long long time by Kitty Kallen. That's fucking perfect. As I recover from the eardrum crushing music, I gently go forwards, pointing my pistol straight front. I notice a silhouetted person to my right. Leaning on a table while standing. There's a lot of food that's been opened, as well as chips. I notice the many colors of spray paint cans, as well as the scent of paint, the presence of a marker. When I look over, I spot a bed. Well, it's more of a mattress, with obvious springs. Before I aim at the man who harmed my friend, I'm observing everything. I'm ready… I'm ready to discover who this vile monster is. I'm ready. 3.. 2.. 1.. I take a peek at the man in the shadows. I quickly point the gun at him, to see his face for the first time.... A very recognisable face... Tim?

Chapter 12: All ties together

August 19th 5:09AM

Abandoned toilet factory

Finally, I was able to see my friend. My closest friend… Tim. I had a good idea what was wrong. Everything about Tim that I see is wrong. He hasn't been beaten, he hasn't been in agony, he hasn't been bruised or wounded, he isn't even missing a fucking limb. He's nothing like the pictures depicted. My best friend, Tim, is a fucking psychopath. Forcing me to murder others... Kill my family... Cut off organs ... The fucking bastard did it all. Tim was staring right into each of my wide eyes. He's got a fucking cunt of a grin on his face. “You disloyal fucking piece of shit” I whisper across the room. I look dead in his eyes as his smile turns away into anger. I could tell he did not find what I said satisfying, “Disloyal? I’m disloyal? Who do you think gave you a hint to my location to start with Mike? In any case you’re the disloyal one. Using toy limbs? To cheat your way through these tasks. Making me lose a leg? Yet I’m still the disloyal one? How do you think you fell asleep if I didn’t put you to sleep after the first task? Who do you think shined the light in your brother’s face when you were at risk of death at gunpoint? Who delayed the police for 40 minutes after you assaulted an innocent man? Who set off that fire when you were surrounded back at your shitty apartment? Me Mike... Me... And you want to call me disloyal!?” It was all done by the fucker.  I was rescued but I didn't want to be. Tim needed to be rescued, I wanted him to be saved. That has suddenly changed, I now want him dead. A question arises in my mind. “How did you know what I was doing if you weren’t there?” “Easy Mike…” Tim lifts up an object off his desk & shows me from afar “Little things called cameras Mikey, something called monitoring your every move throughout the city'' Tim continues as he throws it toward me. “I bet you're also wondering how you fell asleep suddenly, well… Nitrous oxide... A gas that I may have put into you & your lovely mother’s home when you were out completing the tasks” Who the fuck does he think he is? Tim is still being held at gunpoint by me. “I’m surprised you didn’t get my address before hand, you know.. The 8255 password.” Tim exhales as he takes a seat at his poorly built desk. He suddenly becomes focused on the gun I’m holding, “You know I know the gun’s empty right? I keep track of bullets I gave you” Tim elaborates bravely. He opens his desk draw to get an anonymous item “But.... Your final choice...” He tosses a tiny metal element in my direction. It almost precisely settles between my toes. I take up the enigmatic visible object. Another bullet. Tim approaches me slowly. I rapidly load the bullet into the pistol, draw the slide & aim for his head. Tim raises his hands... But he is fearless. He places his forehand right in front of the cannon by the time he reaches me. “You can forgive me as your best and only friend... Or... You can kill me. It’s up to you Mike” Tim says expressively. My mind is filled with a flurry of notions. Do I shoot a murderer…  Or am I willing to forgive? Tim will not be forgiven... After what he's done, no way. My choice has already been made. I'm committing to it... I'm going to do it. Tim gently shuts his eyes. I pull the trigger on the gun. Do I have any regrets about my decision... Maybe.. But I'm not going to murder anyone else. Not tonight. Tim jumps with all his life as the bullet whistling goes by his ear. His spirit left & returned to his body. I can see him comprehending that he isn't dead. He sighs but it also seems like a... laugh? “You Mike... You really are the wis....” I didn't want to hear another disgusting noise from his mouth, which he refers to as a voice. Without thinking, I draw a swing with the gun, Tim nearly falls to the ground before being scooped up & flung across the room. As he coughs blood from his mouth, he rolls on his back. I walk up to his aching body, grasping him by the neck with a tight hold. I continue to punch. I didn't want to come to a pause.... I intended to kill him. The sick fuck. I ground to a stop to allow him to catch his breath. He sprays blood onto my face from his mouth. The cheekbone's centre. He bursts out laughing. I detest anything Tim does now. Hearing a snap as I struck his mouth. He spits out his teeth as he tilts his head to the side. The cunt keeps chuckling. I hit again till I'm distracted... Distracted by the sound of distant sirens approaching the plant. “Oop.. The cops are here... I wonder who called them?” Tim says sarcastically. Tim has never been sarcastic. I never expected him to pull this shit either. I slam him against the bench he was resting against. Tim's landing causes the table to sway. “Never seen this side of my friend before” Tim says still smiling & bleeding all over his body. I grab his neck once again & gradually say with no doubt.. “I’m not your fucking friend anymore Tim. You’re a fucking monster” “Mike.... Please don’t say that. I’m your friend. I care about you” Tim cries. I'm not buying a single word he says. I take one last strike... He came close to being killed. Death was awaiting him. With my hands behind my head, I go to the centre of the room & drop down on my knees... Waiting for the SWAT to seize me. I can hear their numerous footsteps. As they entered the room, I was surrounded by green lasers that appeared like Christmas lights. At the moment, I have a blank expression on my face. I'm waiting for someone to fire the gun & put an end to my misery. SWAT surrounds me, putting my hands in shackles & leading me to the exit door. I give Tim one final disgusted glance. Seeing the back of his skull gushing out on the floor. His breath could still be heard... Unfortunately. I was led outside with a cool wind on my face. It was a splendid sensation. My hands flowing with pints of blood, as I described it. Leaving a trail to the SWAT van. Seeing blood on the floor of the vehicle. It's possible that the entire area will be flooded, drowning in Tim's blood. The SWAT squad are still pointing their weapons at my chest. While I wait for them to pull the trigger, their green, blinding lasers have been turned off. The loud creaking doors close behind me, preparing to whisk me away. To a prison? To a mental institution? Hell? I'm thrilled to find out.

Chapter 13: Invalid sentence 

August 20th 9:37AM

New York County Supreme Court

I never expected to be here, Court. About to be convicted of murder. I was asked questions about which I couldn't even lie. I'm in the one circumstance where I can't get out... Even with Mom's help.

Mike: 

“So Mike. You say you were forced to do these challenges to save your friend?

“Yes your honour”

“And your friend was... The one who sent you these envelopes?

 “Y.. Yes your honour”

“On August 17th, were you responsible for the murder of Alex McGee?”

*Sniff “Yes your honour”

“It says here that was one of the tasks, correct?”

“Correct your honour”

“Did you know McGee personally? Was the task to shoot him?”

“No your honour, my task was to shoot someone. Anyone. I shot someone I didn’t know & that someone was him”

“Are you also responsible for the murder of your brother, Charlie Richway at the saint Helens theatre?”

“Yes... Yes your honour”

“You say you acted in self defence?”

“Of course your honour, I was threatened at gunpoint”

“Ok... Why did you run to your mother’s place after running from the police department?”

“She was the only person I could trust your honour. She is the only family I have left”

“Why did you assault the owner of the apartment, An Cheau?”

“I thought he was the one doing all of this your honour”

“How did you connect the dots to Cheau?”

“He wouldn’t answer my questions about the package. I just reacted the only way I knew how to at the time... With anger & hatred & fear your honour”

“Ok.... Mr Richway your court session is done. Where gonna ask other known... witnesses and associates. Your sentence will be revealed shortly today”

3:16PM

Mrs Richway:

“Mrs Richway, why’d you pull a gun on the officers who came to your house on August 19th around 2:30AM?”

“I was worried they would hurt me. Trying to tell me where my Micheal is”

“Did you know Tim well?”

“He seemed like a nice boy. Micheal really liked the company and the relationship with him

“Were... Are you proud of Mike?”

“Yes... I always have been. My son was always the sharpest tool in the shed. The smartest... Brightest.. Boldest in the family. I’m proud of my son”

“What about Charlie, were you proud of him? Would you forgive him if still alive?”

“Fuck off! Charlie is a disgrace. Charlie never was a good person! He always tried to hurt us. The cunt fucked....

“Alright Mrs Richway please calm down. We understand”

“Sorry your honour”

“Thank you dearly Mrs Richway, I hope god blesses you. Your son’s sentence will be revealed later today”

3:27PM

Anna Brown:

“Did you know Tim or Mike well?”

“I think Tim and I were close. He’d tip me a high amount usually”

“And Mike?”

“I’ve only seen him once”

“How often did Tim come to the restaurant?”

“Once a week, sometimes he’d skip a week but... It was always nice to see a familiar face”

“Thank you Ms Brown, you’re done for today.”

3:48PM

Timothy Allan:

“Timothy... Did you send Mike these “Packages”?”

“Yes”

“Did you write these challenges?”

“Yes”

“Why did you do this?”

“To see if my best friend would fight for me”

“Would you do this to him again?... Or anyone else?”

“No”

“Do you regret what you did?”

“Absolutely not”

“Do you still see Mike as a friend?”

“The best of the best”

“Have you done this to anyone before Mike?”

“No”

“You told Mike you went to college for two months. You didn’t go to college for two months, did you Tim?”

“No your honour”

“Right…. Thank you Tim. Your sentence along with Mike’s will be revealed later today”

5:12PM

Tim & I are on the opposite side of the room. We exchanged glances. I notice a lot of unhappiness as I peek around. I'm surrounded by unhappy people. Except for one, Mom. Mom beams with a smile. She is pleased to be my mother. I try not to cry while I give her a smirk. It's difficult not to cry. Tim is looking at me with a blank expression on his face. He acted as if he had foreseen this. I cast my gaze across to Anna, who is sitting close to Mom. She creates the impression that she is sorry for me by holding Mom’s hand. “Timothy Allan, convicted of kidnapping, trespassing and many other accusations, you are sentenced to 11 years in prison. For you Mike Richway, convicted of the murder of Alex McGee, Charlie Richway, assault of an innocent man, fleeing authorities, possession of an unlicensed weapon and trespassing. You are sentenced to life in prison. May god have mercy on your soul... Both of you” The judge is about to slam the wooden hammer down, which causes my heart to skip a few beats. I shift my attention to Mom... Head  down... Crying. It's one of the few times I've ever seen her cry. Aside from Dad's funeral. Tim is handcuffed by security, I too am handcuffed as well, by police officers who have a gun in their hands. I'm escorted out of the door on the opposite side of Tim. I didn't see him again after that. Good. As the door opens, the sun shines brightly into my eyes. I squint, yet I'm still able to see. The building is surrounded by cop vehicles, SWAT teams & news reporters, putting their mics towards my face. I'm thrown into the vehicle. Ready to disengage. I lean against the barred glass. There's a thud on the screen. The judge is standing in front of the vehicle. The  judge? Why is he here? I'm able to exit when an officer opens the door for me. I get out of the car & stand up. I get uncuffed, the satisfaction of the free accessibility of my hands. Feels great. “Micheal... Will you come back inside with me son?” Son.. Wow, haven’t heard that word in years since Dad. Nostalgic... Sad but nostalgic. What exactly is he going to show me? I notice a young woman holding a baby when the judge opens the two huge doors. Her features are all too familiar. She was featured on the news. I remember... I... I... murdered her husband. Was she going to scream at me? I was terrified of her. Is she going to kill me? She approaches me slowly, hardly making eye contact. I was ready to die by the time she got to me. Be assassinated or something. She approaches me, her left arm around my body. Is she… hugging me? As I place my head on top of hers, I close my eyes. I start to leak water out of my eyes. I've destroyed her love & she's hugging me. She lets go of me & stares at me with grief in her eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry” I cry while putting my cold hands onto my eyes. “Hey, hey. It wasn’t your fault. You were forced. I forgive you. I really do” She reasons. Their young child is going to grow up without a father & they're going to forgive me? In reality, I've lost all consciousness. This can't possibly be true. It's not possible. I take their young girl's tiny, beautiful hand, which is the size of an ant. “Hi” I whisper. “I’m gonna make it up to you. I promise” I continue. She gives me one final grin as she hurriedly nods & passes by me. I keep an eye out for her as she walks away. With her lovely tiny pacifier in her lips, their kid smiles at me. I grin back at her. She sends a farewell wave. I've never been happier in years. As I wipe away the last tear, I shed another. I look at the judge sitting down. “That’s not all son” The judge ponders. Not all? Is Tim getting a death sentence? God I hope so. “We’ve officially had more votes for innocent. You are a good man Mr Richway. If my son was kidnapped... I would’ve done the same thing” The judge continues to speak. “We’ve changed the sentence for Timothy. After thinking about it... He needs medical help. An institution. For you however, you’ll be under house arrest for two and a half years. Under our circumstances. We’ve given you 24 hours until so. You need time to recover son” I throw him a wide smile. My cheeks had swelled. A few hours pass, still having around 17 hours until house arrest. What stuck in my head is he said “We” Who’s “we”? God, I’m so nervous to see him after what happened. Ready to be thrown out. I walk around the smoke barbecue corner. Breathing in carbon dioxide from the sausages. I wave the smoke away. I notice him... Mr Cheau. His head wrapped in a huge bandage. I'm filled with pity. Sorrow for what I did. I come up to the flat expecting to get hit & thrown out. He takes my head & places it on his shoulder instead. Hugging me close. I had no idea what was going on. Mr Cheau, a teddy bear? A person who can be hugged? He felt gentle, as if I were embracing clouds. He asked me inside to eat with him. What a lovely guy he is. After a great lunch with him, I went to the cafe. 

Jimmy’s steakhouse 

The cafe I reunited with Tim. It's a strange location to visit after what transpired.. But it was a pleasant place. Looked rich. After I take a seat, I notice the waitress approaching me with her notebook. She awaits my order. “Hey Mike” she says quietly. “Hi um... Anna right?” I ask. She nods with a smile. “Hot chocolate?” She questions. I return the nod slowly & calmly. She walks behind the counter & makes a fresh cup of hot chocolate. Just how Mom used to make them. We couldn't stop looking at each other. chuckling & smiling. Her lovely features. Her flawless smile... Anna Brown was a mysterious yet beautiful creature.