My Disease

Chapter One

I stared down the barrel of Augustine's pistol and regretted everything I had done; I had trusted him, and I betrayed Wyatt. Now he was going to kill me, I cursed the disease that marked my body so, I cursed myself for allowing any of this to happen. My eyes closed and I awaited my death, but when I heard Wyatt scream for me I felt dead already. To die in this filthy little house, at the feet of the man who had murdered my family and in front of the man I had given everything for.

Yes, it was a disgraceful death.

No, I didn't care.

I looked at the rotten wood walls, kneeled uselessly on the dirt floor my right leg twisted at an odd angle, half a dozen rough and tumble men. Augustine stood before me with a gun in his hand, clad in his expensive clothing and wearing that shit-eating grin of his. He enjoyed watching me suffer, enjoyed seeing me in pain, and I was sure he showed the same amount of enjoyment when he killed my family as well. Hatred burned in my chest, thoughts of my mother, my father, and my sister all in my place, about to die, flashed through my mind. Then I remembered the letter my father left me, how it said not to chase Augustine because I was angry, but to avenge my sister.

I had been the golden child of a wealthy family, and look where I was, marked, beaten, and an abomination. Unbidden, my eyes turned to Wyatt and it nearly broke me apart all over again. His green eyes were wide with fear, blond hair wild from the rough handling of the men that held him back. I had no more strength to fight back, I was already bruised and bloodied enough, I had had enough of fighting the disease blackening my flesh. The black marks on the left side of my body throbbed painfully, they were spreading again, it didn't matter, I would be dead soon and it wouldn't hurt anymore.

"Aaron! Aaron, you son of a bitch don't you dare lay down and die!" Wyatt thrashed against the men that kept him from reaching me. "Don't. You. Dare!"

As he yelled at me the last bit of my strength was drained, I would die and he would watch, Augustine was the worst sort of person. The click of Augustine's gun made me turn back to the weasel, and then pain ripped through my chest. So, the bastard wanted me to die slow, shit it hurt! Dying was a lot less peaceful than I'd imagined, they were laughing now, laughing at me curled up on the floor in pain. Slowly the throbbing in my left side faded, and it beat with my heart so I was finally closer to dying instead of being in pain.

"He'll be dead soon. Well Wyatt, looks like this little beast won't be bothering you anymore." his expensive boot slammed into my ribs to emphasize his words, I grunted in pain, but couldn't force my body to curl around the new wound. "Good thing too, who knows what kind of black hand he has, you could have caught it if you weren't so careful."

My eyes were really heavy, so I let them slipped closed, Wyatt didn't like that. "Aaron! Stay awake and don't you dare die!" he snapped, I tried to open my eyes again, and I cracked them open barely my vision was spotted with black dots.

"He's all, but dead Wyatt. Look at him. Ha!" his boot nudged my broken ribs, but they didn't hurt anymore. "Look at that face, 'Pestilence' is a good name for you, poor son of a bitch. Somehow I'm still amazed that you managed to kill Jacobs."

What was wrong with my face? I liked it well enough, even with the black marks, so did Wyatt. Stupid brain, loss of blood was making my head all weird, it was pooling in front of me, black instead of red. I guess my black hand wasn't as controlled as I thought it was... My eyes slipped closed again, I was so tired, I thought of my mother and I wished I was a little kid again; back before I caught black hand.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Gunshots? Why would they be shooting? Augustine already shot me, and they had killed me to get Wyatt, they wouldn't shoot him.

Hands touched my face soft and cool.

"Aaron? Aaron! Open your eyes!" a soft, female voice, who was it? "Aaron! Come on, it's Emily. Please wake up!"

No, that wasn't right, Emily was dead, died in the fire, no survivors. I forced my eyes open once more as she lifted my head into her lap, she shouldn't do that, he dress will get dirty. She was the same as I remember, her long chestnut locks curling against her will and our father's grey, stormy eyes, but her tearful face didn't suit her. Her soft hands touched my face, my left eye blackened by the disease, my marred face and neck. It couldn't be Emily, I'd finally given up, I'd finally felt at peace, but then Wyatt appeared and spoke to her and I knew she was real.

Dying takes too long, but it didn't hurt anymore. More people, why did my sister have a gun? I'm being lifted now, someone is messing with my wounds. There's crying now, I think it's Emily. My eyes are closed again, and I'm really cold, I want to sleep, but Emily keeps prodding me. Someone's holding my hand, it's rough, but warm, and I know this hand.

My mind won't come up with names anymore, only feelings, I still feel cold, but the hand is warm. Now my hand is wet, why is he crying? He's saying something, but I can't really hear it, did someone stuff cotton in my ears? Someone poked my ribs, I didn't really feel it, it was distracting though. Just a little louder, then I can hear you.

"I love you... "

'Why didn't you say so sooner?'

My heart didn't hurt anymore.