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Author: inkwriter

“If it helps, you’ll soon be joining your wife and daughter,” Red John said.Patrick looked up. His tear-filled eyes grew angry. “No!” he said defiantly. “I am not going to die tonight.”Red John smiled faintly. “Are you sure? I could make it quick, a simple slash to the throat…or more elaborate, like your family….”Patrick growled. “Shut up.”“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Red John laughed, tapping the flat of his knife on his thigh.Slowly Patrick walked toward John. He wasn’t scared. Sad, angry, vengeful, but never afraid. “You don’t frighten me,” he said.“Oh, but I frightened your daughter,” John smirked. “You should’ve heard her cry.”Patrick froze, his gaze became anguished. Then his face hardened again and he sneered. “You’ll cry before I’m done with you.” A small smile appeared on his face as he continued forward.John looked worried for the first time as Patrick advanced on him mechanically. “Get back!” he warned, pointing his knife as Patrick’s stomach. In reply, Patrick punched his jaw incredibly hard.There was a loud crack and Red John fell to the ground, gasping. “You…you just…” he stammered. Patrick aimed a kick at his ribs and he scrambled away, groping for his knife.“Murderer!” Patrick snarled, jumping at him. John slashed desperately at him with the razor, slicing his shoulder open. He wasn’t used to having his victims fight back with so much will.Patrick hardly felt the pain as the knife cut him, not then, or when Red John stabbed deep into his side, or when he made a nasty cut in his neck beneath his jaw, almost a killing stroke. Finally Patrick wrestled the knife away, ignoring the thin lines of blood it made in his hand.He pointed the bloodstained blade at Red John’s throat, breathing heavily. “I told you,” Patrick snarled as Red John began bawling, begging for mercy.“Don’t kill me, please, no!” John pleaded.“Shut your slack-jawed lying little mouth, you cowardly excuse for a worm,” Patrick growled. Red John shut up. Patrick hissed, “You don’t deserve life. You deserve to be slit from throat to naval and left to die on the ground like you did to my family.”“You can’t kill me,” Red John whined softly.“Yes, I can,” he answered, making a small cut in his enemy’s jaw. Then he let out a sigh, a sad, regretful, mournful sigh. “But by killing you…I…become no better than what you are. ‘We have met the enemy, and they are us.’” Patrick frowned deeply. “I guess I’ll…I’ll return you…to the authorities.” He reluctantly pulled out his cell and dialed 911.Suddenly Red John yanked a gun from his belt and pointed it at Patrick. “Put down the knife!” he demanded. “No—the phone first!”Slowly Patrick tossed the phone onto the bed. “There,” he said softly.Red John chuckled unpleasantly. “I hope you’re ready to meet your family again, Jane.” He pulled the trigger.A lot of things happened at once. The bullet shot out of the gun, and at the same time, Patrick dodged. By some miracle, the deadly projectile missed Patrick’s vitals but went clean through his hand, burying itself in the wall behind him. He lunged toward Red John with the knife and John panicked, shooting twice more without harming anyone. Patrick reached his family’s murderer and stabbed the knife deep in his stomach, letting go of it and stepping back.Red John choked and froze, slowly looking down at the handle protruding form his gut. He looked back up at Patrick in disbelief, then to Patrick’s surprise, Red John lifted the gun, pressed it to his forehead, and shot himself. Blood spattered onto the haunting red smile that had mocked him on its wall for so long.Red John collapsed to the floor, the gun spinning out of his hand. Immediately after, Patrick dropped the knife, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.Choking back a sob, Patrick ran out of the room, out of the house, and didn’t stop running.