How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Russell

Night had fallen across the town, turning the fresh autumn day into a crisp evening. Smoke rose from chimneys as residents lit fires or basked in the warmth of the wood burner. Television's glowed from behind windows, illuminating front rooms with an eerie hue. It was too cold to be out, and most people had settled in for the evening.
Russell pulled up outside Louise's fancy apartment complex, and lingered, watching the mundane habits of her neighbours, thinking about what he and Debbie would have been doing on a typical evening. Like everyone else, they would have settled in front of the television and enjoyed their favourite shows. Russell realised that it was the trivial things he missed the most. Washing the dishes while Debbie chatted about some actor who did this and that. He never really paid attention, just nodding at the correct moments, but he would now cherish those moments forever, because Luke had taking that away from him and he needed to hold on to those memories.

A light flickered from behind a window and Russell shivered from the cold and turned his thoughts back to Luke. He had never been to Louise's place; he only knew the whereabouts of the luxury apartments she lived in. Her Mini was parked across a driveway and Russell glanced at the vehicle that nearly caused his death. It was unmistakable. Seeing the car brought back vivid images of his experience of the bridge. Swerving erratically. Panicking as he smashed through the barrier. The intense feeling as icy water enveloped his body. He had nearly died, all because Luke tried to kill him.

The cold metal of the gun dug into his side and Russell pulled out the small weapon. He was not a fan of weapons, but after a series of burglaries nearby, Debbie had insisted they get something to protect themselves. The obvious choice was a small handgun, that would deter any criminal. Since its purchase, the weapon had been locked away in a safe tucked inside a wardrobe. This was the first time Russell had seen the gun since buying it. He knew it was illegal to own a weapon in the U.K, and because of his security contacts, Russell had been able to source one without anybody asking questions.

He held up the weapon and examined it. He had been shown how to load the gun and how to fire it. Anybody could do it; he was told. Even a monkey. Russell felt like a monkey, playing with a toy that he did not understand. How hard could it be? Just aim and fire and kill Luke. Holding the gun gave Russell renewed power; he could use it because he was angry. Debbie's death had left a huge hole in his heart, and he could fire the weapon. When he got the chance, Russell would pull the trigger and end this extreme pain he felt.

He stepped out of the car and instantly felt the night air wrap around his body. His thick coat absorbed the chill, but Russell felt the cold grab onto his skin. He shivered and remembered the icy water. That sinking feeling he sensed as his car sunk into the murky river water, filling up and slowly covering his whole body. Russell was still unsure how he had managed to escape and how fortunate he had been that a passer-by pulled him out the river. When this is over, Russell would find that person and thank them immensely.

Stepping up toward the front entrance, Russell tried to steady his shaking hands. It was not from the cold; it was because he was nervous. Nervous because he would have to face Debbie's killer. Could he really pull the trigger? Russell stood frozen in the cold wondering if he could. Could he kill Luke? Yes, he could. Russell could kill Luke because he was doing this for Debbie. Although, what would she have said? Russell could hear her voice in his head, telling him to stop being stupid and come home. He nearly turned around and got back in the car, but another voice told him he had to. Kill Luke and everything will be better. Would it? Would everything be better? Russell was longer sure, and he could feel his heart beginning to beat faster.

Russell listened and the only sound he could hear was the distant noise of traffic, and a cat meowing nearby. Nothing from inside Louise's apartment. He then remembered Louise, trapped, and frightened and thought about the horrific things Luke had planned for her. This was the moment. The moment to man-up and sort this mess out.
Russell knocked on the door and waited. He felt sick and tried to stop his hand from shaking. When he pulled the trigger, he needed a steady hand, otherwise this would all be for nothing. He took a deep breath and waited. No response. He knocked again, this time louder.
'Hello!' he called out. 'Luke. Are you there? Its Russell.'
No response. Where was he?
'Luke! Open the door. It's freezing out here.'
Russell kept his voice calm and steady, yet he was far from calm. He knocked against the door for a third time, hoping to alert anyone of his presence. Then he heard the yell. It was muffled, but definitely a yell. Louise. Was she in trouble?
'Luke! Its Russell. Open the door!'
Another yell, this time followed by the gentle turn of the doorknob. Russell was ready.

The large sturdy door began to open, and Russell waited, tucking the small gun into his waistband, out of sight. He did not want to spook Luke by the sight of the weapon and wanted Luke to believe he was here to help. That was partly true. He was here to help, but he was also here to end Luke's life, and Russell was ready. All he could think about was Debbie, and the pain she suffered at Luke's hands.
Watching the door open was like watching paint dry. It took forever for the opening to appear, and when it finally did, Luke was standing on the other side. Russell stepped back. Luke looked at him with bloodshot eyes, and he was trembling, as if he were having a seizure.
'Russell,' said Luke, his voice hoarse and croaky. 'Quick, get in. I haven't got long.'

Russell was taken back by Luke's appearance. He looked a mess. Worse than that, he looked ill. Luke always looked good. His deep blue eyes could melt even the hardest hearts, and his rugged appearance was something Russell always envied. What was wrong with Luke, and why was he shaking uncontrollable?
'Luke! What's going on?'
Russell stepped into the apartment, feeling the sudden warmth push away the cold that clung to his body.
'Are you OK? Tell me, what is going on?' He was genuinely concerned. This was not normal behaviour.
Before Luke could answer, they both turned toward the pounding coming from the spare bedroom.
'Hey! Russell. Is that you? Please get me out of here. Russell!'
Russell rushed over to the door, and frantically turned the handle. It was locked.
'Louise. Are you alright. I'll get you out of here. Where's the key?'
'He has it,' responded Louise, relief in her voice.
'Luke?'
'No. Sam has it. Find it please.'
The concern that Russell had for Luke quickly faded, and he turned to look at his former friend. Luke was still shaking, and beads of sweat clung to his forehead.
'What the hell is going on Luke? And where is the key?'

Luke looked at Russell, fear, and sadness in his eyes. He tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Russell needed to get Louise out of that room, and Luke knew where the key was. He did not care if it was Luke or Sam, as far as he was concerned, they were the same person.
'Luke. Listen to me. Where is the key?' asked Russell, sounding more agitated.
'I. Don't. Know.'
Luke's words came out slow and deliberate. He was breathing heavily as if he had been on a long run.
'Sam. Knows. I. Can't. Hold. Him. Anymore.'
Russell looked puzzled. Is that what was happening? Luke was struggling with an internal turmoil, and his alter ego was fighting back.
'Listen. I know you are suffering but think. We must help Louise. Where did you hide the key?'