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Jonnie's hands shook. It was now or never.
Don’t be a coward.
It had been five minutes since he had entered the hospital, pushing open the big doors and heading into the busy lobby.
It had been four since he had found the target’s location, writing it down with a sharpie on the back of his hand.
It had been two since he had managed to slip past the hustle and bustle of the medical staff.
And now he was in the room.
The security guard who had seen him and Big Jimmy that evening was lying in critical condition just a few feet away, as unprotected as the rabbit they had shot just a few hours ago.
Getting into the hospital hadn't been hard in the slightest. The doctors and nurses were understaffed and overwhelmed, and had paid no attention to the fresh eighteen-year-old who had entered the building, his face shadowed with a hoodie and covered with a medical mask. Then Jonnie had simply waited until one of them was away from the computer, checked the hospital records to find the right room, and walked over.
If anything it was disgustingly easy.
Too easy.
And here he was. The park ranger who escaped. Right in front of Jonnie, so close he could see the rise and fall of the unconscious man's chest.
The man had ginger hair, closely cropped, and pale skin which shone strangely thanks to the white lights above. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was measured. In, out, in, out. Disturbingly calm for someone who had been shot in the head and had undoubtedly lost a lot of blood.
He was just… lying there. In front of Jonnie. Defenseless and vulnerable, completely dependent on the machine and the personnel of the hospital keeping him alive. Except they weren’t here now. And Jonnie knew that with a mere flick of his hand, a mere pull of a plug out of an outlet, and the security guard would be dead. His life cut short just because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Jonnie looked at the immobile man hesitantly. How long has he crawled through that park, he wondered, just to end up here, about to be killed by me?
Jonnie shook his head. Why was he overthinking this? It was just a body, and he knew he had to kill him. It wasn't a big deal. Just one basic task. Finishing the job.
Big Jimmy wouldn't be like this. Jimmy shot the guard without hesitation, as well as a variety of small animals.
And yet Jonnie hesitated, hands shaking unwarranted as he looked at the only thing keeping this man alive. A simple tug was all. It wouldn't be hard. He had to do this anyway, didn't he? If he didn't he was good as dead. The Don was known for being ruthless and cutthroat, even to young eighteen-year-olds like himself. Jonnie knew the Don and Big Jimmy were related, so there was a chance he had a bit more leeway than most off-the-book undertakers. Still, if he didn't kill this guy, it wouldn't matter.
There was no room for mistakes in the Mafia.
It just.. felt different than killing someone normally. Maybe because he was helpless, lying in front of Jonnie, unable to fight back or even run. Jonnie tore his eyes away, looking at his silver watch nervously. He knew a nurse or doctor would be in here at any second, no matter how understaffed the hospital was and no matter how stable this guy appeared. He had to do this and he had to do it now.
Weakling. Your time is running out.
Jonnie steeled himself, forcing his tensed nerves to relax. He was in too deep. He had killed an animal before, and had already planned to kill this man earlier.
It was the security guard’s life or his, and he knew he had to survive.
He had to survive.
Survive.
He pulled the plug, the black cord ripping out of the wall with as much strength as he could muster. The machine that was keeping the guard alive started beeping, the red light blinking quickly, and the man’s breathing began to falter. An alarm started to blare from the machine, loud enough to make Jonnie wince and certainly loud enough to attract attention. Jonnie knew it was a matter of seconds before someone arrived and spotted him. And once they did, things would certainly take a turn for the worse.
The timer on leaving the hospital had started ticking, and Jonnie had to move quickly. There was no time for hesitation, no time for thoughts, only time for logic and precision. He reached into his pocket, grabbing the pair of sharp metal scissors he brought and slashing through the plastic tubes which kept the guard's blood pumping. It spurted out, red droplets flying through the air. There, he thought, swiftly returning the scissors to where they came from, now he definitely won't survive and I can leave without worry. Without that worry, at least.
Jonnie moved swiftly out of the room, making sure his mask was pulled high and his hood once again fell low over his face as he stepped through the doorway. He started off down the long white hallways with speed but caution, making sure to check his surroundings for any witnesses. Every time he got to a corner he would peer around it, carefully making sure there was nobody there before continuing. He saw them a few times; doctors and nurses rushing about towards the patient, and at one point he had to step into another room to avoid being spotted.
For the most part, everything went according to plan. Jonnie had taken the time to memorize where the cameras were, as well as the quickest way out, and he didn’t have any direct encounters or confrontations with anyone. He had also taken the liberty of memorizing a few alternate routes, which came in handy every time he saw someone in the distance that he knew he should avoid.
It’s time you stop pretending everything is fine.
Jonnie quickened his pace, wincing as his legs tired. He was never as big or fast as Big Jimmy, meaning his physical strength and stamina was a lot weaker. He also had a minor headache, which only worsened as he sped up, making him grimace and grind his teeth together as he persisted forwards. The lights from above didn’t help, seeming to pierce into his skull and fill his head with an irritating fog.
Jonnie walked faster and faster, picking up speed until he was very nearly running down the corridors. He doubted they would check the security cameras right away, but it was best to be brisk. He needed to move quickly and get out, to leave before anyone caught him. His headache didn’t even matter.
You can’t ignore me. You can’t run from your problems.
Jonnie paused for a quick breather, allowing himself a moment of respite once he realized nobody was around. They’re all taking care of the security guard. He thought dimly, his mind as slow as molasses. His head was dizzy, his legs numb. It had probably only been a few minutes, but Jonnie felt like he had run an entire marathon. He bent down, head dipping and hands planting on his knees as he drew in breath after breath of air. He closed his eyes for a second, hoping to clear his throbbing head.
After a moment he realized he felt something wet in his hands, something that in the excitement he had failed to notice. Jonnie paused, opening his eyes, and allowed the realization to come to him slowly. His usually pale hands were spattered with red. Blood. He must have accidentally gotten some on him when he cut that support tube.
You think bloodshed will solve it? You will be dead soon enough.
Jonnie looked up tentatively, flicking his eyes up and down the hallway. It would be real bad luck if someone was around. Luckily, the hospital seemed to be empty. He was either in a mostly unused section of it, or they were even more understaffed than he thought. Jonnie checked again, looking both back behind him and towards where he intended to go. This time he spotted something. Not people, but a familiar blue sign planted above a doorway.
It’s only a matter of time. All because of one simple truth you weren’t willing to face.
A bathroom, Jonnie thought, relief flooding him as the stroke of luck he’d been getting continued. Just what I need for cleaning up this blood. Jonnie walked over to the doorway, checking to make sure nobody else was inside. Once again, his luck held, and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he went over to the sink and began to wash the blood off his hands.
You’re a coward.
It wasn't very hard. The blood was still wet, and therefore slick, easily sliding off his hands as the water turned an unnatural pink in the sink. Jonnie made sure to get all of it, thoroughly scraping at any remainder caught under his short nails.
Coward.
The clear cold water poured over his hands, clearing some of the pain and fogginess from before. Good. He was going to need his wits about him when burying the evidence and facing the Don.
Coward.
He finished washing them off as quickly as he could. He was on the move, and he had to remember that. Take too long and they will catch you, and if they don't kill you the Don certainly will. Jonnie began to head out of the bathroom, shoes squeaking on the shiny floor. Alright, job complete, now just to head b–
Coward.
Jonnie stopped.
Something had caught his eye, causing him to freeze.
It was wrong.
His reflection.
The mirror was right.
The room was right.
Or were they?
Maybe they were blurry. He couldn’t tell. He was frozen as he looked into it, at the person staring back at him. It was a reflection, that much was certain.
But it wasn’t his.
Physically it was. Same heavy grey eyes. Same babyish face he could never grow out of. Same dirty blond hair tied back behind his head in a feeble attempt to keep it out of his face. Same expression, forever trapped between fear and uncertainty and hostility.
But it felt wrong. Like he was looking at a stranger's face. His pupils felt too wide, his skin felt too pale, his features felt morphed in an indiscernible and undetectable way.
The stranger moved his eyes, following Jonnie’s, stormy and demanding. Angry. You coward. The stranger whispered, glaring with unmasked hostility. But it ain’t the stranger, is it, mumbled a different voice, it's me who's thoughts these are.
It didn’t matter.
Either way, he couldn’t move.
Couldn’t look away.
Couldn’t stop listening to the stranger’s words– his own thoughts.
The edges of his vision were gone, distorted by the stranger. He didn’t even remember when they had gotten stolen. His eardrums were pulsing– his heartbeat thumping erratically. Assuming he even had a heart. Assuming he was real. Assuming he wasn’t just an expendable copy of the stranger.
You coward, the stranger continued, jeering at him, you killed a man, and what for?
Blood rushed to his head. Blood everywhere. Blood nowhere.
The thoughts grew louder, echoing. Jonnie was capitated by the stranger's gaze–his gaze, as if he was a bee stuck in honey he had created.
You know why you both joined the Mafia. You were a coward then and you are a coward now.
His throat filled with cotton, choking him. His eyes sparked. He wanted to tell the stranger to stop, but he knew it would be fruitless, that it had a mind of its own. And he was trapped by the gaze, a gaze which seemed to grow more and more angry and accusing the longer Jonnie held it. The eyes in the mirror seemed to glow, locking with his own, burning into his empty soul.
This was never about money, or no other place to go. Not really. You've never had those, so why did it matter?
He was trapped.
The walls, the stranger, the eyes.
A swarm of hornets, only growing louder the longer he looked at the mirrored face.
Jonnie couldn't breathe.
You didn't have any bad problems in life. Not ones that affected other people. You would've been fine just giving up and dying on the street, or joining the Mafia alone. Instead, you chose to be a coward. And the one problem you did have you let spiral out of control. Until it ended up hurting him.
A deep gloom. No movement, no speaking, no running, just watching. No escape.
You told yourself Jimmy would've joined anyway. You saw how his parents fought, and upon learning about his connections with the Mafia you took it upon yourself to convince him to come with you.
Couldn't move his eyes away from the mirror.
He could've left. Could've had a better life while you starved, like you deserve, or died at the hands of the Don alone without him. But he trusted you, and you didn't have his best interests in mind. You could've avoided this all of you'd confronted your feelings.
Water fell down. He– he couldn't–
Instead you got this idea of “running off together.” Said that enough time together and he would feel how you felt, would finally kiss you how you longed to kiss him. Told yourself you could build your life together using the money you got. But the truth is you are a coward. Instead of ripping the band-aid off and getting it over with, you made up this fantasy. All because you couldn't deal with your feelings. It was never about staying alive.
You were on the street, without a home, and madly in love with a boy who didn't love you back.
This wasn't his only option.
It was yours.
And you dragged him into it because you couldn't bear the thought of living without him. Of dying without him. You dragged him down while you went up, and now you will both fall down. This is just a placeholder, a momentary limbo between love and death.
You will die together, with you never saying you loved him. And to think you could've prevented it all if you just left to live on the streets, or joined the Mafia by yourself. You would die, but he wouldn't die with you.
That was the only thing that mattered to you, until you took the selfish route.
The painful route.
And you deserve it.
Jonnie jerked his head away from the mirror. His breathing was ragged, heaving in wretched gasps, his face wet with tears he barely realized he'd been crying.
Confusion filled his thoughts, only to be quickly swarmed by other things.
Love.
Fear.
Sadness.
All the weaknesses he had been ignoring.
Jonnie swayed over the sink, his stomach churning as wave after wave of nausea crashed down.
Then it all stopped.
The feelings vanished one by one, until only three remained.
Shame, anger and purpose.
He couldn't deal with this. All this… thinking. It was too late to back out now. He was in too deep. Not like it mattered. Or it wouldn't have if he hadn't dragged Big Jimmy into this. He knew that if he left, it was not just him in danger. It could be Jimmy they killed instead, just to punish him. The person he'd betrayed by convincing him to join the Mafia.
Just because he had a silly little crush. Just because he was lovesick.
It was no excuse.
Oh but how he loved him. How he wanted to tell him, how he longed for him to love him back so he could grab his beautiful hair and push him against a wall and kiss him hard, hard enough that they could pretend Jonnie hadn't dragged him into the middle of the mess that was his life. Hadn't convinced him to join just so he could have them die together instead of dying alone.
Instead he was here. In front of a mirror in the middle of a fucking hospital, crying over a boyfriend he would never have. A crush he had sentenced to die with him. Like a fucking failure.
He got up shakily, taking great care to not look into the mirror. At those eyes.
He would continue. Because not continuing meant dying, and losing Jimmy. And he couldn't lose Jimmy.
He knew there was no winning in this Mafia game, but he couldn't back out. Wouldn't back out. He would play as long as he had to.
His features hardened into a mask, a disguise to his puffy eyes and tearstained face.
He would wait for the body to be delivered to the morgue.
He would find it and he would bury it.
Then he would get the next job.