HIS FORCED WIFE

The Forever Nightmare

Wednesday,

Tristan; He was in his car, driving by himself, while his driver was sitting next to him. Why was he driving himself today? Well because he felt like it.

He came to a stop and pulled over on an empty street, next to a park connecting two streets making it a good place to confuse. He was due to meet his family in New York and had just landed in The City, from Italy. He had been gone for five years, only coming when it was related to work, and strictly stick to it. He hated when his business was disturbed. Thus, he decided he needed to finish a job before he could meet his so-called clan, who forced him to leave his work and come back for a lousy engagement of a cousin he doesn’t even remember the face of.

While waiting for the show to start. He looked around the city, he grew up in and stayed until he completed his college and left for Sicily. He felt no affection towards the city. Well, he mostly never felt any affection towards anything for a long, long time. He liked it this way. Emotionless, Careless, fewer weaknesses, few wrong decisions.

He sighed and glanced at the old walls next to his car, covered with graffiti on them. The paint was rusted, with cracks on the cement layering. It was an abandoned area, although the population was nearby. It was a good place to get rid of an unnecessary burden on dear Earth. He looked at a quote, written on the wall.

‘Life is unexpected’

His mind raced at his life, never being unexpected for him. He was always two steps ahead of people. Always knew what was coming. Always in charge of his life. It never applied to him.

And thus, at that moment he planned never to be proven wrong.

The man in target had arrived and so did Tristan’s Men, behind his car, making sure the target had come alone as he was requested to. His crime. Stealing, from his base, confidential information, multiple times. He was warned, but he didn’t stop. So, he had to be put down permanently. The last information he stole and sold, was the reason for the killing of two of his men’s families. Tristan he never killed without a reason.

Henry Dazel stood in front of Tristan’s car, his head bowed down in fear. Tristan opened his car door, and got out, closing the door behind him. He could see his restricted breathing.

“Come on,” Tristan said, walking into the park next to them. Henry followed behind, gulping down the lump forming in his arm. He was waiting for Tristan to initiate the conversation, so he can defend himself. Reaching the center of the park, Tristan turned around. The initiation of the conversation Henry was looking forward to with Tristan never came but did come a gun in his hand from his back gun holder and a bullet was shot in Henry’s direction.

Tristan didn’t use the gun silencer. He liked the sound of bullets leaving the gun and hitting the other person where he wanted it to hit. It always did. And right now it hit his stomach, at the center, and drilled into the spinal cord. A slow death for him, and painful too.

Sighing Tristan put his gun back in its holder resting at his hip bone. The man in front of him fell down, holding onto his stomach. Tristan ignored his groans and walked past his body back to his car. He opened the door and sat back in. From where they were Henry could not see his car and he, not Henry. He grabbed the key. But just as he was about to put it in the ignition. He saw a frail figure of a woman running on the other side of the road at the end of the park. Tristan frowned as she stopped at the sight of Henry calling out for help. This motherfucker would make her get killed too. If she is smart enough, she should just run away, and not look back.

She stood still for a few moments, probably trying to choose between being sensible and running away or being absurd and helping him.

But instead, this dense of a woman walked back to that almost dead man and was now out of sight from him. Tristan wanted to get out of the car and walk up to her and give, actually show her a brief lesson of why to not stop and act all angel for a stranger and how dangerous it can be, but he somehow retained himself.

Instead, Tristan put the car in the ignition and forward it a bit to get a clear view now. Her face was now clearly visible. Flushed and wet. Straightening his back, Tristan sat back on his leather seat and surveyed every of her move, scared, And yet she was something.

What caught Tristan’s attention was her long hair. She was a brunette, just as he liked his women to be. Her hair flows down long and wavy.

She called for an ambulance for a man whom he wanted dead but he let her do that. A few minutes passed with Tristan examining the scene in front of him. More precisely looking at her, why waste his time on anything not worth wasting, like Henry? He concluded the woman had serious issues with blood or death by the look of refined atrociousness on her face.

The ambulance, along with still-alive Henry and the girl was taken to the hospital and Tristan followed behind.

At the hospital, he again saw the Young woman, still in hysteria, and zoned out, coming out of the doctor’s office, and walking right past him, to the door.

He watched as the lady on the counter gave her the note he wrote for her, just for the sake of making her more baffled. And he succeeded. With a smirk, he turned and entered the emergency room, where his dear Henry lay. This time he was to use a silencer though.

After he was done, he drove to the Knight’s mansion, to finally greet his family. When he arrived, he was welcomed by his mother Olivia, little sister Evangeline, and cousin Matt. He liked the two women and hated Matt.

His mother was all emotional, and complaining about him not calling, not eating, and not marrying. He asked for his father and excused himself to go meet him. He walked up the stairs and took a right. Going down the hall, He knocked on the third room to the right. It was his father’s office.

“Come in,” A heavy, rugged but gentle voice came from the inside.

Tristan opened the door and walked in, confident and respectful, There were very few people he respected, And his father was the most respected for him.

“My son!” Mr. Knight was sitting on a leather chair, behind a big mahogany table. He stood up from his chair. A big smile plastered on his face.

“I knew you would come,” He said passing by the table to his son.

“You ordered me,” Tristan said and the smile on his father’s face grew bigger and prouder. Tristan was a pride to him. His son, his legacy. The best version of him.

Halton patted his son’s back and asked him to sit down. He complied and both of them had a long boring talk, mostly related to deeds.

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‘It was a very dark night, darker than the usual ones. No light, only the moon to bestow us with its shine. The roads were very shady and empty, almost blending in with the sky, making it difficult to see at a longer distance. I was very agitated as I clung to the hand of my mother running along with her, trying to catch up with her heavy steps, humping as I did so. My father was behind me, with metal in his hand, shining as it reflected the moonlight.

“where are we going, mom? I am very scared!”

“…,” Mom did not reply.

“Mom…please tell me…why we are running…You never tell me anything?” I said breathlessly, whining

“…”

Abruptly I heard a piercing shot behind me, making me jump. I tilted my head to look behind me while running and I saw no one except only my dad running behind us. His expression made me want to look away and focus on running.

“Mom, what is happening? PLEASE TELL ME "

“Someone is behind us, my baby, we are running for our lives.” mom replied to me, Clutching tighter at my hand. My heart thumped against my chest, and my breathing become more and more strangled.

I again heard a gunshot but this time It was followed by a sharp groan, from my father. Mom stopped and so did I, turned around to see my father lying on the floor on his stomach, and groaning in pain. That was when I saw the red liquid of agony, Blood, slowly forming a little pool around his head, which grew bigger and bigger and I felt as if it was suffocating me, engulfing me as a whole.

‘I WAS TERRIFIED SEEING HIM’

I never realized when my mother left my little hand and I saw her crouching down at my father. I saw tears rolling down her eyes, as she grabbed the metal from his hand. She turned to face me. I hoped and expected the motherly affection from her but instead, I got yelling. She seemed far more horrifying than she usually does.

“THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU BITCH, MY HUSBAND DIED BECAUSE OF YOU,” saying this my mother started running towards me, as I had the instinct that she will strangle me to death too.

But before she could do that or even approach me, she fell to the ground. This time I heard several gunshots, and blood splattered on my face and clothes.

Life was knocked out of me, looking at the same blood that formed around my father, now pooling around my mother’s head and stomach. The same blood on my hands and face. She didn’t scream or make any noise, like my Dad. She just decided to lay there and look into my eyes with her red deadly ones.

My knees gave up and I fell down with a thump, my eyes taking in a few Men, with the same shining metals in their hands, approaching me. One of them crouched down at me and I closed my eyes before I saw a face, which I never seem to remember again. It was devilish.

I sat up wildly in my bed. My head snaps from left to right, and I almost twist my neck but right now I fear the horror of them being there. No one, No Gun, No blood. Tears stung my eyes, and flow down my cheeks. My body trembles as I choked on my breath trying to stop the tears and a lump forms in my throat, making its way out with a loud intake of breath and I throw my hand over my mouth.

April was asleep next to me. I feel sweat all over my face, and realize I am drenched in sweat. More tears flow down my eyes, realizing how pathetic I am. This dream, I have been having for ten years and It still scares me to the core whenever I have it.

Carefully I get off the bed, maintain my balance, and put on slippers, moving towards the washroom whilst holding the wall with one hand. My knees were weak and my head spinning as always.

I splash some water on my face and look at my reflection. I hate it when I feel helpless, and I hate blood too. And I can’t help but cry at the very sight, as It brings back the same chills and horror I had that night. The metallic smell, I had to engross for days before they let me go. I hate all that. I hate those people.

‘It had stopped,’ I mumble between my choking sobs. “Why again, Why me,”

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