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by Josh
Rated: E · Short Story · Death · #1962825
Just an ending to an unwritten story. Please tell me what you think.
…The Hero rushed through the doors into the room. There wasn’t much inside, it had a few benches backed up against the walls and one bench in the center of the room, but other than that it was empty. The doors quickly slammed shut behind him, locking him in. On the bench in the center of the room sat a kid the Hero had encountered quite a bit recently, the Villain. “Welcome” said the Villain in a disheartened tone. “I’m glad you made it in time.”
“In time for what?” The Hero responded, readying for a fight.  “Put your guard down Hero, it’s just you and me here.”
The Hero wearily relaxed. “What are you up to Villain? You going to try to destroy another laboratory? Or maybe you want to try to derail a train again?” The Hero questioned.
“I think I’m dying Hero, my healing factor isn’t working anymore.”
“What?” The Hero responded, slightly shocked.
“You heard me Hero, and what’s more, all of the injuries that I’ve experienced in the past that my healing staved off are coming back, one by one.” The villain responded. The Hero stood there, shocked. “But…how? How does it just stop?” The Hero quickly blurted out. “Maybe…maybe it’ll come back.”
“It doesn’t seem like I’m going to be so lucky. Even if it did, it wouldn’t be of any use unless it came back in the next minute or so…”
The hero stared at the Villain while the Villain, head hung low, sat on the bench. Silence.
“Damn” said the Villain quietly.
“Well maybe you’re wrong, how can you be so sure?” Said the Hero. “I don’t scar” the Villain responded quietly.
“What?”
“I SAID I DON’T SCAR!” The villain shouted, standing up from the bench. The Villain pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and held out his arms, palms up, for the Hero to see. On the Villains arms were scar marks, on each side, starting from the wrist and leading up almost to his elbow. “I DON’T SCAR!” The Villain yelled again. “These are from when I first learned that I couldn’t die, years and years ago. The scars showed up yesterday.” Said the Villain forcefully. “Along with the pain…”
The Villain tore open his shirt to display dozens upon dozens of scars, ranging from knife wounds to gunshot wounds to even wounds where broken ribs once stuck out. “These appeared earlier today. They’re from the experiments.” The Hero stood in terror, staring at the scars that littered the Villains body.
“Experiments?” The Hero finally spoke up.
“Yea, when the government found out I couldn’t die they took me away and experimented on me. A stab here, a bullet there, “hey let’s throw him off a roof, see what happens”. For a full year they did this, finally I just went mad and-…”
The Villain stopped talking. He plopped back down on the bench and quietly said “None of that matters anymore.”
The Hero, seemingly coming to terms with it all looked down at the Villain with pity and sadness in his heart.
“Hero…I’m going to die aren’t I?” Asked the Villain.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” Responded the Hero.
“I’m scared, Hero.” Said the Villain, starting to tear up. “I’ve never had to face death before…not really.”
The Villain puts his head in his hands as he starts to sob.
The Hero says “I’ll leave you be.”
“NO!” The Villain quickly shouts through the tears. “Please…I don’t want to die alone…please, don’t leave me.” He begs. The Hero walks over to the bench and sits next to the Villain.
“Thanks” The Villain says quietly. “I’m not even 21 yet…there’s still so much left to do.” The Villain confesses. “Not for me I guess.”
*COUGH COUGH*
“Ouch” says the Villain as blood begins dripping from his mouth. The Villain grasps the Hero’s hand tightly.
“Hero?”
“Yes, Villain?”
“I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you.”
“It’s ok, I forgive you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The Hero holds the Villains hand tightly. More coughing, more blood.
“Hero…I’m not ready.”
“I know.” The Hero says quietly.
“I don’t want to die…please no, not yet…” The Villain pleads weakly “I don’t want to die.”
The Villain slumps over onto the Hero’s shoulder, dead.
© Copyright 2013 Josh (josh_woodard at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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