The Puppet

“Please, please, don’t do this…” The girl cried, her tears leaving wet streaks on her cheeks. Hes didn’t despond. He kept his eyes trained on her neck, where he could see the panicked thump of her heartbeat. He pulled Mollartach from its sheath and poised the tip above her heart. He couldn’t bear to look into her eyes.

“You can come out now, Jadis.” Hes said, his heart squeezing in his chest. He felt like he was a puppet and Stryker Jadis just happened to be pulling his strings.

“You’re not actually upset, are you, Hes?” Jadis said, giving him a nasty smirk.

“Of course I am, you arse! She had a family.” Hes said, throwing his arms up. The sick gleam of red on Mollartach caught the moonlight, making his stomach churn. He resheathed his sword, vowing to clean it later.

“Oh, boo fucking who. She was useless. Plus, her body will be much more use, now.” Jadis smiled, sickly, his white teeth twinkling under the light of the full moon.

“What are you doing with the bodies?” Hes asked, holding in his urge to cry. He looked out to the midnight sea, only disturbed by the dock protruding from its surface. He wished he could be that peaceful.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets, now.” Jadis clicked his tongue. He grabbed the woman’s lifeless body and threw it over his shoulder, ignoring the blood spatter that transferred to his clothes. Hes watched him go, silently. As soon as Stryker was no longer visible, he collapsed to the ground, tears pooling from his green eyes.

“What the hell have I done?” He cried, knowing it was useless and he couldn’t bring the woman back to life. If he didn’t comply with Stryker’s requests, his family would suffer the torturous consequences. This was his fight. Gemma and his mother had nothing to do with it.

When his eyes focused again, he saw a small plastic card, an ID card. The tears were less harsh as he picked it up and stared into the face of a dead woman.
“Majenta Coleman… she was only twenty-four.” He murmured, reading the card’s information. He slid it into his pocket.”

Should I ever meet her family, I will give my life’s debt to them… He thought. He went back to his flat, keeping his head down, though the streets of Holmes Chapel were empty.

He cleaned Mollartach and took a shower before climbing into bed. He tried to sleep, knowing he needed it but his eyes wouldn’t close and his brain wouldn’t shut down. His subconscious was haunted by images of the late Majenta Coleman.

Notes