How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Russell

Russell sat at the bar in The Anchor Inn wondering what had happened to Louise. Night had fallen and the plan was that Louise would meet Russell here after she had collected a few things from apartment. That was hours ago. Russell was getting impatient. He had agreed to hear more about her plan to help Luke, but he was insistent that he wanted no part in helping the murderer and would manage things himself. If Louise did not show up in the next ten minutes, he was leaving. Russell would hunt Luke down and make him pay.
For the last few hours, Russell had been trying to process what Louise had told him. Luke was suffering with a mental illness. It couldn't be true. Russell and Luke had been friends forever, he had grown up with Luke, been to his wedding, and was there when he found out that Jessica was dead. If Luke were sick, Russell would have known. Louise was wrong, and the truth was Luke had lost his mind, and turned into a psychotic killer.

Russell's phone rang, disturbing his peace. The bar was noisy. Patrons laughed and the small television that hung on the wall, filled any remaining air with the dull tones from a news channel. Russell had been lost in thought, drowning out the ambient noise with his own thoughts. His phone buzzed and Russell glanced at the display. Unknown number. He ignored it. Louise had given Russell her number, so it wasn't her. The phone continued to vibrate. Hang up. Russell decided to answer the call, speaking into the receiver warily.
'Hello,' said Russell.
'Mr Knight. This is DSI Cortado. We spoke earlier at the hospital.'
Russell remembered. He remembered feeling angry. He remembered how humiliated he felt after everyone believed he was mad. He remembered wanting to punch the officer in his stupid face.
'Yes,' said Russell, matter of fact.
'Mr Knight. May I call you Russell?'
'No!'
'Umm...Right. Mr Knight. We were wondering if you might know the whereabouts of Mr Hill? Luke.'
'I know who Mr Hill is. No, I do not know his whereabouts. If I knew that I wouldn't be talking to you.'
The police officer was silent, pondering Russell's sharp words. He let out a sigh which boomed in Russell's ear.
'Mr Knight. Are you planning on doing something stupid?'
Why would Russell answer that? What sort of idiot did they think he was?
'No. Nothing stupid,' lied Russell.
'Don't. Don't do anything stupid. We will find Luke, and we will talk to him. Do you understand?'
Russell hung up and put the phone back into his pocket. He drank the last of his beer and walked out of the Inn. Dusk was setting in, and the temperature had dropped rapidly. A cool mist emerged out of Russell's mouth, and evaporated into the chilly air. He pulled up his jacket and headed toward his parked car. Time to find Luke.
Russell again thought back to what Louise had said about Luke's split personality. If it were true, Luke's alter-ego, Sam, was dangerous. Louise had described him as wild, unpredictable and if Russell attempted to stop Sam, he would lose. Louise was wrong because Luke was weak. Even if this Sam were a nut-job, Russell could easily over-power Luke's scrawny body. Luke was athletic, but Russell was big. Not muscular, like a bodybuilder, more like a train; large and bulky, and he could push Luke over with a single shove.

Ten minutes later, Russell was parked outside his burnt-out house. He stared at the blackened house, and felt the anger rising. This was his home, the house he shared with the love of his life. The house that they would raise a family in, and the home they would grow old together in. Luke had taken all that away from him. He had killed his Debbie, and Russell hated Luke. This had to be a dream, and he felt intense sadness come over him. Russell's eyes were misty at the thoughts, and the more he stared at his once beautiful home, the more he wanted to make Luke pay. He could not understand why Luke would do this, and worst of all, how had Russell never noticed anything strange about his best friend? It did not matter who Luke was or whatever problems he was dealing with. Luke would suffer, and Russell would enjoy every minute off it.

The sun was beginning to set further behind the horizon, and Russell looked beyond the house and the setting sun. The sky was filled with a brilliant glow, lighting up clouds with reds and orange, creating a spectacular sunset. Russell felt the tears gently fall down his cheek. Seeing the sunset reminded him of the times he and Debbie sat in their garden, drinking a crisp white wine, watching the sun dip below the horizon. He looked away and wiped the tears from his eyes. What was he doing? Sitting in his car, allowing anger to boil up inside him, it was foolish, and he knew it. What choice did he have? Russell had to. If he did not end Luke, Russell knew it would eat him up until he died. He could not live like that. He could not spend every day angry and mad with the world. Once Luke was dead, Russell knew he would be at peace. Luke might have once been his best friend, but now he was a killer who deserved to die. A voice in Russell's head told him that if he went through with his plan, he would be just like Luke, a murderer. Russell shrugged it away, telling himself this was revenge, not murder. It was justified.

He glanced back toward the house and pushed the sadness away. Get in and get out. He only needed one thing, and then Russell would never return. His heart was racing, but he was locked to his seat, and he could not move. Stepping back into his own house would be too painful, and Russell found himself gripping the wheel tightly. One thing. Get in and get out. He had too. No matter how painful, he had to do this for Debbie. Russell stepped out of the car, took a deep breath, and walked up the garden path toward his front door.

A few minutes later, Russell burst out the front door, and staggered toward the car. Going back in his house had been worse than he thought, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead. Despite the cold temperature, Russell was flushed, and his shirt clung to his back. Seeing the inside of his house had ripped his heart in two. Their bedroom, their pictures, their life was all in that house, and now it was gone.
He took one final look at his home, knowing that he would never see it again, and pulled away. Russell had what he needed, and now it was time to find Luke.

The sun had gone, and darkness was closing in. An eerie presence filled the air as streetlights flickered on, trying to break through the remaining light, and shadows were cast in every direction. Russell shivered. The cold penetrated his damp clothes and chilled his body. Russell was driving aimlessly, wondering how he was going to find Luke. Then he had a crazy thought. Would Luke answer his phone? If he did, then Russell could arrange to have a chat. It was stupid, because Luke would never pick up, but what did Russell have to lose. He called out to his phone's virtual assistant.
'Call Luke,' he asked, shouting at his phone.
The phone lit up and a small multicoloured wheel appeared, indicated the phone was thinking about his request. Russell kept his eyes on the road and waited for the phone to respond.
'Calling Luke,' replied the monotone voice from the phone.
Russell held his breath. Would Luke really answer? He must know what is going on, and if he asked for a chat, Luke would instantly become suspicious.
'Hey Mate.'
Russell quickly glanced at the phone. He couldn't believe that Luke had answered. This was going to be easier than he thought.