Eric made sure the gun was as safe as it could be; the he tossed it on the urine soaked cot. Sweat trickled down Eric’s nose. His heart had once again picked up its pace. He was a truly broken man. Here at thirty-two years of age, he had crossed the line of sorrow and became suicidal. “This isn’t what pop would have wanted for me. It’s not what he had planned.” Eric said to himself, brushing away the sweat on his forehead. The room was silent. Even the street was silent below his only window. All was calm. Then it hit him. The mark was no longer burning.
A sigh of relief came from Eric’s lips, then a slight chuckle. This always happens every once in awhile. The pain would flare up then die down. And Eric wouldn’t even notice the sudden change. But never has it been so strong. Why? Why would the pain be getting worse?
Eric sat down on the cot, relaxing himself as he tried to forget the moment of pure agony. He looked over on the vanity where the stolen pocket watch laid. 2:35. The sun was still hours away from rising. Plenty of time to rest. But thanks to tonight’s events, he would wait for the sun that always seemed to comfort him most.
But just as his mind began to ease, Eric remembered something. “That loud bang. That loud bang that I thought was the gun. It…came from…” Eric shook his head nervously, trying to remember. “It sounded like it was all over the room. But it had to of came from somewhere inside the room…”
Suddenly Eric spied the curtain less window. “… or outside.”
Eric stood up from the cot, keeping his eyes focused on the window. Obviously someone or something struck the glass hard enough to stop Eric from killing himself, but also gently enough not to break it. But his room was on the second floor. Someone must have thrown something.
Eric walked across the apartment, trying not to trip over any of the garbage that surrounded his feet. A strange feeling came over him. Not one of fear like he had felt before, but comfort. The kind only his father could give. Although the feeling was pleasant it disturbed Eric. His father was dead. Killed by the dark priest with the same knife used to crave the mark.
When he reached the window, a chilling breeze touched his bare skin. This was very strange considering it was late April. But what was even stranger was when Eric looked down towards the street below and seen nothing but a thick smoky fog. There was no trace of any parked cars or fire hydrants. Even the bottom half of streetlights were cut of by the seemingly unnatural mist.
“What in the name of…” Eric’s eyes landed on the alley next to the butcher’s shop across the street. The fog slowly retreated from the alley and made the ground in that area clearly visible. The rest of the street however, remained covered. A chill went up Eric’s spine as he seen a shadow in the alley.
The shadow suddenly moved towards the misty street. Then a figure emerged from the alley. A man. Tall, round-shouldered, dressed in a casual black suit and a nice hat. The man stopped at the alley’s entrance and with the most strange and frightening countenance glared up at Eric.
“No…. no… it cant be him… it cant.” Eric slowly backed away from the window still staring into the man’s eyes. “God help me… please god… help me.” Eric’s words turned to sobs. His face began to contort, tears streamed down his cheeks. He then approached the window again expecting to no longer see the man standing there. But he was there, still staring up at Eric. He had not moved nor, had is face changed. Eric placed his hand on the glass and spoke aloud one word. “Papa.”