Gambles with Frail Lives

Four days later

I am currently cleaning the warehouse, considering building a long bench to place in front or behind the house as a spot to relax. There's a fair amount of old boards and wood still in good condition stored here. I used to keep a few free-roaming chickens in this warehouse, and they'd return to their coop each night. However, a weasel killed them all one night, and since then I've refrained from keeping anything here.

During the day, the warehouse gets hot and stuffy, almost suffocating. Having worked in it for about an hour, I'm drenched in sweat. As I separate the salvageable boards from the rotten ones, I hear a car pull up outside. Clearly, it must be Michelle, as she promised to visit soon. Besides, over the past three years, only she has ever come to my place.

"I'm here," I shouted from inside the warehouse without looking out. In my hand, a machete, ready to split the rotten wood into firewood, if necessary. These would be perfect for roasting sweet potatoes, a crop I grow around the house. Roasted sweet potatoes help keep my food expenses down.

"Are you here?" a man's voice responded. Surprised, I quickly turned around. This is definitely not Michelle, and it's much worse. There stands Jess, in his BtP uniform, at the warehouse door with an expression that makes my intuition flare. Goosebumps form on my skin.

What is he doing here?

A cold sensation creeps through my body. It's illogical; Jess shouldn't know my house and, even less likely, what I did to him at the last masquerade party. Regardless of what brought him here, Jess's gaze is anything but friendly. "Yo Jaime, I heard you sneaked into the BtP masquerade party, huh?" Jess grins, his eyes brimming with murderous intent.

My heart seems to halt along with my breath. "I...I don't understand what you mean," I replied, trying to avoid his gaze and continue my work.

"Hahahaha...stop lying," Jess laughed, "Michelle has told me everything." My hand froze; Michelle couldn't possibly have spilled everything to Jess. Our position would be endangered if exposed. Michelle could be sanctioned, and I could become a target. But Jess is here, irrefutable evidence. He must have done something to Michelle to make her talk. For a spy, information is more valuable than their own life.

"What did you do to Michelle?" Anger sparked within me. As thoughts of the possible harm to Michelle crossed my mind, adrenaline started pumping through my body. My right hand, clutching the machete, tightened, my breathing slowed. Jess, whether aware or not, immediately drew his gun.

"What should one do to make people admit things they'd rather not," Jess's thumb moved to disengage his gun's safety. I swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell on the implications. As sweat dripped from my body, the warehouse seemed hotter. "A little torture and it's all over, as simple as that," Jess added, grinning chillingly, "I've been searching for you for a few days now, to settle my debt, friend."

My heart pounded, unable to believe his vindictiveness. I stared at Jess's gun. If he shot me here, that would be the end, especially considering the trouble Michelle is in. My eyes darted to the warehouse door, blocked by him. An attempt to break out and run into the forest was futile.

At such a close range, a gunshot would leave me no option but to die instantly. Jess mastered fire, and while I might escape a burning with severe burns, his gun had been drawn first. Was he truly so vengeful over the previous incident, eager to shoot me to eliminate evidence?

If I were burned, he'd only be a suspect. My mind was racing.

Would he seek my death over such a minor issue?

"What do you want, Jess? If you just want to throw a punch, I'll take it without resistance. I can't fight you, and you know that. I'm sorry for my mistake," I pleaded.

Jess smiled, "It's not that simple, buddy. You embarrassed me, and now I want your life. Can you give it up without a fight?"

"Come on, Jess, I'm truly sorry for that. We shouldn't be toying with guns over a petty matter," my mind was scrambling for an escape plan.

I was in genuine danger, and Jess was entirely sober. There was no way I could escape, let alone beat him.

Jess gripped the gun in his hand and swung it slightly, "Oh, are you afraid of this little thing?"

Perhaps my time was running out. Damn it, there was no way out.

"Jess, please, hit me or kick me, but don't use that weapon, I won't resist." I made one last plea.

"I won't be satisfied until I take your life, Jaime," Jess seemed to revel in those words, smirking mockingly. Nonchalantly, he swung his gun and looked at me with a crazed expression.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Forgive me, God, for devaluing my life.

The look in my eyes shifted as I realized that the path of 'sorry' was no longer an option. Something dark and ominous began to take hold of me. "Jess, if you point that gun at me, consider us both as good as dead."

Jess was triggered; his face turned ferocious, "Oh yeah?" he asked, and he aimed the muzzle of his gun at me. At that precise moment, I made a brave decision; I had to act without any hesitation.

Hurt him and escape safely, or at worst, die together.

A murderous aura filled every cell in my body.

"Dorr!!!!" a gunshot exploded from Jess's gun aimed directly at me. I had accurately anticipated the direction of the gun muzzle and dodged it by leaping to the side until my back slammed against the warehouse wall, creating a loud noise. The next second, I was propelling myself forward, aiming the machete in my hand at his vital area. He could shoot me once or twice more, but I had to inflict comparable damage. My hand, along with my machete, needed to reach his neck. Jess was visibly startled to see his first shot miss and find me charging at him. The gun in Jess's hand quickly realigned with me and fired again.

I was prepared to take the shot and continued my charge, my machete swishing past Jess's hand and the gun he was holding, relentlessly approaching his neck. Suddenly, I felt something snag my shirt, halting my momentum and causing me to miss the attack distance I had calculated. Meanwhile, Jess, a seasoned fighter, swiftly retreated at the opportune moment. He was visibly rattled as my sharp machete whizzed past his neck, grazing the skin slightly, causing him to bleed.

Jess seemed to pause for a moment after the near miss. The recent events had likely forced him to comprehend the gravity of the situation. He had shot at me, and my machete had grazed his skin; he was teetering on the brink of death. If it hadn't been for a nail on the warehouse wall catching my clothing, he might already have been on the other side with me.

I promptly pushed forward, keeping my focus on him. He had shot me; I wouldn't be able to stand much longer. I had to disregard whatever pain was ravaging my body. Swiftly, I forced myself to charge towards him, tearing my clothes free from the nail behind me. My arm immediately reached for Jess's neck. With one breath, I slipped behind him, avoiding another shot, and encircled him from behind, placing the machete right up against his throat.

"I hope you're praying now," I whispered coldly into Jess's ear. The sharp, icy machete was already touching his neck. If he chose to summon his fire to immolate both of us, I hoped my machete would slice his neck faster. My life would never be cheap; there's always a price to pay, and I felt my eyes moisten slightly. "Forgive me, God," I murmured softly, my heart aching.

Jess could clearly feel the sharp, cold machete pressing against his neck and my intent to use it to slit his throat. My arm muscles tensed, and my hand clamped tightly around his head.

"Trak," the gun fell from Jess's hand.

I waited. Jess's fire was the only threat left. I pressed the machete harder against Jess's throat. Suddenly, I could feel Jess's body trembling and growing cold. Instantly, Jess's hair and body structure started to change, startling me, but I still held onto him, not wanting to let go. His hair thinned out, his bones creaked and shrank, eventually forming a figure full of scars.

"Michelle," I muttered in disbelief, quickly releasing my grip and tossing my machete as far away as possible. I hurriedly turned her around to see the face full of scars, devoid of eyebrows, and sparse hair. "Michelle," I said again, my heart was both relieved and terrified. I could see a wound on her neck from the machete, still bleeding. Michelle's eyes were almost unfocused, tearful, and her body trembled with fear.

"I... I'm sorry... I didn't know..." I stammered, not knowing what else to say. Michelle instantly started crying, hammering her fists hard against my chest, then abruptly bent over and picked up the fallen firearm, aiming it at me and pulling the trigger several times.

"Dor!!! Dor!!! Dor!!! Dor!!" I stared at the gun, and even though the shots were aimed at my chest, there were no injuries.

Blank bullets.

Michelle hurled the gun at my face, and the metal object hit my forehead. Painful. I watched as her tears continued to flow. She raised her hand and slapped me across the cheek, "Yo... Yo... You wanted to kill me..." Michelle stuttered and sobbed loudly, her stern gaze demanding an answer. I lowered my gaze, not daring to meet hers.

"Look at me!!" Michelle yelled, slapping me again.

The slap stung and my cheek burned.

"You wanted to kill me...." She screamed, tears flowing freely. Michelle touched her neck and saw the blood on her fingers, causing her body to tremble, and her crying intensified.

"I'm sorry..." I murmured, trying to comfort her.

"Look, this is my blood," Michelle sobbed, showing me her blood-stained hand, and then roughly smeared her blood across my face.

"Why did you want to kill me..." Michelle cried, continuing to pound her fists on my chest. I remained silent, my emotions turbulent, terrified because I almost killed her. The punches didn't hurt, but the realization that I nearly killed her filled me with fear, and I immediately embraced her.

Her small, frail body was shaking.