It was warm. Rage was warm. Blind anger was warm, yet paradoxically cold. There was no thought, just vengeance. Karina's blood was still warm, and flowed from her neck. Her body still gave off the small sent of Japanese Cherry blossoms that she always wore from Bath and Body Works, but it was mixed with the metallic pungent smell of blood. Jon held her. He felt her blood pore out of her body, terror and rage were a storm raging within him. The cold numbing icy terror buffeted him like winds in a blizzard, while the burning fiery rage coursed through him like a river of magma flowing fiercely under the earth. His wife was dead.
The police were outside. He knew it would only be a matter of moments now until the swat team burst through the doors and there would be gun fire, and more death. He felt the nuzzle of an AK47 tap him on the shoulder. From some distant place a voice trembling from fear or adrenaline, spoke to him. "Against the wall." Jon still held onto Karina. Tears starting to well up in dry eyes.
She was always the brave one. She managed to hide her cell phone when they had confiscated everyone else's, and had managed to text her sister telling her of the robbery. The police were at the scene in a matter of moments. One of the bank robbers cursed. Karina's phone rang. One of the gunmen slapped her. She looked up at Jon, tears in her eyes. Those eyes, imploring, begging, him to be her knight in shining armor. Those grey eyes that were so full of mirth as he would tickle her on the couch when watching movies. Those grey eyes that would be so full of disapproval every time he left the toilet seat up. Those eyes that were the gateway into who she was. He could get lost in those grey eyes, always so full of emotion. Those eyes looked to him begging him to rescue her.
He was on his stomach, hands on his head, across from her. The gunman grabbed her by her hair and lifted her up beating her across the face with his gun. She let out a muffled cry. Again those eyes locked onto his, through tears he saw her mouth the word "Help". A knee went into her stomach and she was cast down onto the ground. Gasping for breath she doubled over. Grabbing a fist full of hair the gunman brought her face only a few inches away from his. Shaking with rage he cursed at her, and raised his hand to hit her again.
She was always the braver of the two of them, through their three years of dating and two years of marriage, he had always known her to be the one who would fight for things, while he was more laid back. Tears fell from Jon's face as he saw the man hit her again and again. Fear paralyzed him. His mind screamed at him to move, to be the protector, ever muscle in his body coursed painfully with the need to kill, but an animalistic instinct to survive held him down just as strongly as if he was chained.
She spat blood in the gunman's face. The face of her angry defiance would be eternally etched into his memory, as the gun man, first stunned by the act then enraged flung her onto the ground. Raising his gun he heard the loud snapping thunder of the bullets, and felt the dull thud echo through the ground where he lay. He felt hot blood splatter on him.
He didn't remember getting up or running over to her. One moment he was lying on the ground watching the man raise his gun, the next he was holding her dead body. The pale look of anger and fear spread on her face. He failed her. "To love and protect" that was his vow, he made to her two years ago at their wedding. He held her close, her blood and smell filling his nose, consuming him.
A few hours earlier they were arguing about the bills. He thought she was spending too much on her books. It was a trivial fight, that wasn't worth even arguing about. He would give anything to fight with her again, to hear her voice raised in that high indignant pitch. To see her nostrils flare in an almost cute way. He would give anything to hear her again.
The nuzzle nudged him back into reality. Around him ten or so customers lay on the ground, some crying, some shaking, all scared. Three gunmen walked around nervously, they knew the shots would be heard outside, and knew that now their hopes of getting out were destroyed. The SWAT teams would blow through and there would be a gunfight, and they would be taken to prison or killed.
Jon couldn't let that happen. That animalistic nature to survive was shattered. No longer did he have any want to live, but only to kill. Jon couldn't let the SWAT kill what was his to kill. He couldn't let them be taken to prison where they would spend the rest of their lives protected from him. He needed to feel their blood covering his hands just as he felt Karina's slick his hand.
The tapping on the shoulder became a blow as the man swung his rifle at Jon's head sending him sprawling on the floor. Slowly he got up into a crouch looking like he was going to get up then suddenly sprung at the gunman knocking him over. Rage flowed through him conquering the icy terror that seemed to consume him only moments earlier. His vision seemed to blur in shades of red. He felt all the anger swell in him as he roared. All his rage and emotion was channeled into that scream as he rolled on the tile floor grappling with the gunman. The loud snapping sound thundered in his ears, but was drowned out by the roaring of his own blood thudding in his head. Every part of him turned animal as he clawed, punched kicked, and grappled with his opponent. Nothing else existed in his world except for him and the gunman. They rolled again and again, causing the other bank robbers to not be able to get a clear shot at him without killing their man.
Rage consuming Jon, he swung his head down and bit down on the gunman's throat. Through the thick cotton ski mask he tasted blood. The salty tangy tasty of blood. The taste caused him to go crazy and he bit down harder crushing his lung pipe in the process. There was a scream, he felt it, but it didn't register. The gun fell limply from the robber's hand and was scooped up into Jon's hand before he registered it was there.
Blood flowed from his lips in an angry snarl as he leveled the gun at the other two robbers. Dimly he was aware of the glass door shattering as the SWAT teams started firing. He didn't feel the bullets penetrate through his back or through his shoulder. The only thing he was aware of was the loud thunder of his own gun as he brought death to those who killed his wife. The recoil of the gun sent kept pushing him back as he felt the bullets from the swat hit him again and again. In a moment the two gunmen fell in a bloody mess, having little time to fire on either the SWAT or Jon. Numbly he watched them fall, they were dead. He was dead. From a distance he heard the clatter of his own gun hit the ground. The blood on his face was still warm. Horror of what he had done, mixed with pure sorrow of his wife overcame him. He didn't remember falling, but the ground came up to him cold, and painfully. He cried out, a noiseless cry. Blood pouring out of him. He had failed his oath, his covenant, his duty.
A thought registered in his mind. His final thought. I have stripped myself of my humanity, someone put me down as a rabid dog, for I am no longer human. The last three words echoed in his mind as he faded into the black No longer human…\