"Tell your secret to the wind, but don't blame it for telling the trees."

- Laila from A Thousand Splendid Suns

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Chapter 10:
A Great One's Fall

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RAINE

"I-I know what happened to your wife and child," I stated firmly, though the struggle to keep myself awake was overwhelming. "The fate of the f-five survivors who were on that minibus is n-not their fault."

"You don't understand what I'm going through," he retorted.

“It doesn’t matter; the police are onto you,” I replied, my fingers pressing against my throbbing head as I fought to stay alert through the haze of exhaustion.

"I don't care about that. After playing with the remaining survivor, I'm ready to surrender," he declared confidently. "You've disrupted my plan, so now you might be my final opponent."

“What game are you playing? Are you out of your mind?” I demanded, my eyes darting away as I struggled to hold his gaze.

He reached into his trouser's pocket and handed me something with a blurry figure of a gun. "Do you know how to use that?" he inquired, taking a seat in front of me.

I'd never held a real gun before; my experience was limited to a dart gun, as I wasn’t allowed to own a real firearm like the one he might have handed me.

"What's this for?"

"The chemical I injected you with — it causes intense pain, dredges up long-buried memories, and triggers self-destructive impulses. Its effects vary depending on the strength of the person," he explained. "Now, I wonder what will its effect be on you?"

The haunting memories of the past clung like unyielding chains, pulling me into a pit of despair.

"I know... I know you wrote that note," I declared, my voice trembling with the fear coursing through me. Tears threatened to spill, but I steeled myself, refusing to be overwhelmed.

"As you speak, you're only killing yourself slowly," he warned.

I slumped against the table, anger and sadness tightening their grip on my heart, desperate to break free from the haunting memories that flashed before me.

"You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, so you're not in control," I retorted. "Your mind is a battleground, and you're just trying to survive."

"You're brave, huh. That chemical affects older folks differently then," he taunted. "You should have been knocked out by now!"

Whispers and echoes filled the air, voices from the past intertwining with the present. My parents' words from that tragic day echoed in my ears, along with my sister's desperate pleas.

"What he said is true. You're the final obstacle in my plan," he added. "I should have listened to him from the start."

"H-He? Who is he?" I asked.

"He's apparently one of your fans," he replied cryptically, his words sending a chill down my spine.

The distant wail of approaching sirens reached my ears, a reassuring sign that Mrs. Nuñez and I would soon be safe from the chaos.

"Why the grin? Losing your marbles, are you? That's the chemical working its mischief," he said, rising from his seat and glancing out the window.

"The police are here! Looks like you're losing this game," I spoke. "You didn't succeed in making me take my own life."

"What police? That's just the chemical playing tricks on your mind!" he laughed mockingly, his amusement piercing through the fading sound of sirens that had only moments ago whispered hope into my ears.

Suddenly, I found myself gripping the gun that rested on the table. "Bravo!" he applauded.

"Oh, give it a rest. I know this is just a prop," I retorted, my voice trembling as I aimed it in his direction.

"If that's the case, are you prepared to pull the trigger if it was real?" he challenged. Glancing at him, I noticed he, too, held a gun, possibly the real one. "Now that I know you won't end any life tonight, I'll take care of it for you. Imagine the disgrace of being called a murderer. How would your parents react?"

"Oh, that's right! Your parents are already gone!" he jeered.

With the gun poised between us, I hesitated, feeling the weight of his despair. He truly meant to end his suffering through suicide.

"We're just two players in the same game, Ms. de Verra. But it seems the odds have shifted in my favour," he remarked with a smirk.

I reached for my dart gun, but before I could even grasp it, a sharp, stabbing sensation coursed through my body, paralyzing me in place.

"Goodbye, Ms. de Verra. You lost," he declared as he aimed his gun towards his right temple.

My heart pounded furiously in my chest as I lay there, completely powerless.

Just as I resigned myself to my seemingly inevitable fate, his attention abruptly shifted to the door. His eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground, collapsing in a heap before me.

"What—" I began to question, but before I could finish, darkness enveloped me.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

When I regained consciousness, I found myself bathed in the harsh glow of ambulance lights. In front of me was Detective Ferrer, standing over me with his radiating smile.

"You're awake! Thank goodness," he beamed.

Confusion flooded my mind as I realized my surroundings. "Why am I here?" I asked.

"We had to neutralize the effects of the chemical in your system. That's why you're here," he explained calmly.

"Why not the hospital?" I pressed, my head still throbbing with pain.

"There's heavy traffic en route, and we have the necessary resources to treat you here," he reassured.

Despite my lingering discomfort, I insisted on leaving the ambulance. "I'll be fine, sir. I need to go back to my flat," I spoke. But as I turned to leave, George's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Did you immobilize the building's owner?" he asked, bringing me to an abrupt halt. "Was that part of the plan you mentioned when you called me earlier?"

"I simply moved her out of harm's way," I defended.

"But you're the one who led yourself into danger," he countered sharply. "Do you realize how risky that was? You nearly lost your life back there if we hadn't intervened in time."

"Did you take down that killer?" I queried. If he was responsible, why didn't I see any sign that the police were on their way?

"I thought it was your dart gun that immobilized that person?" he responded, his brow furrowing in confusion. "He was incapacitated momentarily because of it."

"But my dart gun was tucked away in my pocket, and I couldn't get it because of the effects of the chemical. Who else among the people inside the building could have such a weapon?" I pondered aloud, casting a glance at the scattered crowd around us.

Among them, Mrs. Nuñez and her nephew were being questioned by the police. Fear etched into her features. However, her nephew appeared oddly calmer than I expected.

Something's off with that man. I can sense it.

"Where are you off to? I'm still talking to you, Raine," he called after me, tugging gently at my arm.

"Just a moment, sir," I replied, my mind racing with unanswered questions.

As I approached, Mrs. Nuñez's nephew greeted me with a knowing look, as if anticipating my arrival. Without a word, he gently took my arm and guided me away from the bustling crowd.

"What's going on?" I asked.

From his pocket, he took something – a dart gun identical to mine. I felt a surge of surprise as I quickly checked my own pocket, only to find it empty.

"I believe this belongs to you," he remarked, a faint smile forming on his lips as he handed me the weapon.

"Where did you find this?" I asked, studying the familiar object in my hand.

"It was lying on the table in front of the sofa, where Auntie and I were supposed to rest," he explained calmly.

"So, was it you who shot that man with this?" I asked once more.

"Yes, it was me. I acted on instinct, even though I had no idea what I was doing," he admitted sheepishly.

"How did you know something was up?"

"After you left, I had a strange feeling, especially when I noticed that dart gun. I decided to investigate, and that's when I stumbled upon everything," he elaborated.

"Great!" I exclaimed, a smile spreading across my lips. "Thank you."

"It was no trouble," he replied modestly, adjusting his black cotton jacket.

"Well, now I know what it’s like to lose consciousness from chemicals. Though I’m sure my ordeal was twice as difficult as your aunt's," I said, stretching my arm with a wry grin.

"And there you have it!" Mrs. Nuñez's nephew chuckled, his amusement barely contained.

"Hungry?" I suggested, sliding my still-shivering hands into my blue trousers.

"Absolutely!" His eyes sparkled with excitement. "As long as you’re treating."