Ghosts Broken Mask

15 - 'Oh, to be free'

[WARNING: Mentions of self-harm and suicide]

You gripped the wall, dragging yourself back up. Nose bleeding as your thigh sent overwhelming shocks of agony through your body. You coughed, winded. You felt for a knife, none. One with the kid, one dropped in the hallway and the other in that generals' dead bodies grasp. You clenched your jaw, positioning yourself as you raised your arms.

Fortunately, he wasn't carrying a gun. You moved quick, feeling over the fights, wanting to go. When you were done with something, you did anything to have it finished. You used mostly dodged actions as he kept throwing punches and kicks. Getting him riled and tired before you started defending yourself back.

He hit you a few times, but you blocked most blows. You made him stumble from a missed hit and took the opportunity to swing, a high kick knocking his head, the helmet rolled off. You froze, your heavy breathing, loud in your ears. "Greg?" You asked, arms dropping as he caught his breath.

Your father's friend... the army man that you'd seen throughout your childhood... he worked here?  ... he was there that day, your father's death. He had the helicopter. ... you stared at him, silence hanging over the loud pants of you both. You didn't want to hurt him; you didn't know he served here.

He threw a punch, it hit as you grabbed your jaw and grunted. "Greg!" You said surprised. He was fighting you. You balled your fists once more, if he was going to fight then so would you... maybe he didn't recognize you. He punched again and you dodged quickly, circling him like he was prey. He had a sick smile on his face.

"Hello Y/N" He spoke, his voice oddly cold. Why was he smiling? You frowned at his attempts to hurt you. You dodged everything, keeping steady as you kept moving. Forcing your thigh to stretch as you circled. He turned with you, the empty hall, dim. The light coming from the stairs. "Greg" you repeated, keeping your eyes narrowed.

"Y/N" he said back with a sickening smirk. You tilted your head. "What are you doing?" You asked. He laughed and you glared. "My job" He muttered his smile fading into a snarl. "I don't want to hurt you Greg" you said to him, voice low and even as you kept your body moving. He laughed, a deep laugh shaking his chest in amusement.

"That's surprising" he whispered, still turning with you, his eyes sharp as he kept himself ready for any sudden movements. You were confused, looked it too. "How's your father??" He asked. You frowned; he knew he had died he was there. Air left your lungs, a soft gasp in its exit. Why would he ask that.

He grinned at your shocked face. "That's it..." He whispered menacingly. "Where's your father?" He snarled. "Six ... feet ... under?" He laughed. You dropped your arms, and stopped circling as you stepped back. "Guess what?" He whispered; his voice amused. You glared "it wasn't the impact that killed him" a toothy grin stretched across his face. He walked forwards slowly, towards you.

"Your father was alive when we crashed."

"I seen him squirming on the floor..."

"You laid beside him ... honestly thought you were dead" he laughed "You don't breathe so obviously" he said, cocking his head to the side with a grin.

"I had to ... make him, ... - well," he chuckled, as you backed against the wall. "Disappear" his voice low, right in your face as he looked down on you. Greg had offered the helicopter ride. Greg had suggested the day, time. He had provided the helicopter and pilots. Greg.

Greg.

At that moment things clicked for you, and you felt a sharp pain. Your body immediately shut off, air to your lungs, blood to your brain, your heart skipping as your eyes widened. You blinked, furrowing your brows as your body weakened on site. Your wound no longer hurt, replaced with an intense torturous pain in your gut.