9.1
Still standing in his father's embrace, Jelani's breath stopped.
What lay on the driveway before him wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
This scene was impossible, and his brain failed to synchronize the colors into a cohesive image.
The color of blood, which didn't belong.
The color of a person, missing a head.
The color of his brother, who was supposed to be that person.
Only three people had been standing in the driveway, so who else could it have been?
But the logic didn't process, and Jelani's eyes darted.
They darted madly in every single direction before finally coming to rest exactly where they'd started.
No one else was in sight. There were only three people on that driveway–at least, there had been.
"Welcome home, son," his father, whose hearing was bad, said, releasing Jelani from his embrace.
The man had yet to notice that anything was wrong.
In a constricted wheeze, air squeaked into Jelani's throat and fell back out again.
Again and again he hyperventilated, barely taking in any oxygen as he staggered where he stood, eyes stuck on the body in a pool of blood.
Now, his vision blurred and he stumbled forward.
His breaths came and went even faster than his heart was beating.
"Lu-lu?"
Now, his father was kneeling on the pavement.
He couldn't hear or feel. He could only see.
Now, blood reached the soles of his boots.
Now, his body shook.
The sun reflected off the pool of red. Something caught his eye.
He looked away, across the gap to the north.
Now, he heard a voice.
It was them. They were waiting. They were waiting for you to come back.
Was the voice real? He couldn't tell.
Now, his ears rang and his vision narrowed.
Those words the voice had spoken were a self-evident truth. Everything they had said was indisputably accurate.
Now, his bloody soles scraped across the ground.
Into a red blur of the world, his feet dragged themselves forward.
Step after step after step.
With a trail of blood behind him, he left his house behind–far behind.
He turned left, and he walked onto the bridge.
No one else was there.
The figure of a young man crossed from south to north alone, eyes fixed forward even as he pulled the steel knuckles from his pant pockets.
His hands held the steel. He turned left.
They were there.
Just as the holy voice had promised, many were gathered there before him.
Jelani stopped.
"Lil P? That you?"
His static world, a dreamlike trance, sharpened.
"Lil P!"
They must have shot something across from here, the holy voice said. Into your brother.
Jelani's silent march resumed, but his feet no longer dragged clumsily across the pavement.
Now, every step was intentional.
The men gathered before him. Some cracked their knuckles, apparently anticipating a fight.
Whether or not Jelani recognized them didn't matter. Every face looked the same to him. What did matter was that each one belonged on the ground, severed from its owner's body at the neck.
A man stepped up to him menacingly. Jelani's reality grew so sharply centered on that face that he could nearly cut it without contact.
But contact was necessary, so a steel blade went through the man's neck.
One at a time. The rest didn't matter.
Flames erupted from one man's hands. Another placed his palms on the ground. Many aimed guns, and several drew blades.
One at a time.
Jelani's feet shattered the concrete as he leapt forward, slicing the onslaught of fire with his bare hands.
Bullets ricocheted everywhere. So many deadly weapons were packed in a tiny radius. Blood sprayed into the air.
One at a time, he executed those who had tortured him.
Their guns clattered against the concrete. Their heads tumbled at their own feet.
He proceeded without stopping, leaving none alive behind him.
Every step was intentional.
His body was covered in their blood. It ran down his neck and dripped from his fingers.
And his face was covered in tears.
Silent streams ran down both of his cheeks, gathering in his wounds and mixing with his blood.
His eyes cried and cried, but his face was set like a stone.
He gripped his weapons and turned into an alley, now cloaked in shadow and hidden from the setting sun.
At the other end, more of them emerged.
The commotion had been enough to rile the region, and by the holy hand's wish, all who heard came.
Jelani met this line of new adversaries by blowing holes through them with his fists. Those behind pressed forward in a furious rage, desiring nothing more than to be the one to end this young man's life.
And one struck, then another.
Something tore through Jelani's abdomen. Something ripped off his ear. Something slashed into his thigh.
None of that mattered. They all died at his hands.
He emerged onto a street, and now he was surrounded.
Attacks came from a distance–ones he couldn't avoid.
His body was thrown left and right. Mysterious forces burned him, eating away at his insides.
He ignored this and locked his feet onto the ground.
Lowering his face, he gazed into the surface of the earth.
His eyes saw concrete, but his mind went deeper.
DOOOOOOOOOM
As he stood there on the brink of death, the street erupted around him.
Flying debris took lives. Hardened wood did too.
So many died, but still more came. Each one could only see a scrawny teenage boy, and each one was unable to believe that this boy could do anything to them.
Jelani took control of the domain he had made his own. Those who attempted to navigate it were eliminated.
The maze of aboveground roots churned and seethed, digesting every life in the area.
Now, it was silent.
Jelani stepped forward, crossing the street and entering another alley.
There, some tried to surprise him.
Yet again, he clenched his fists and hardened his body, driving just one punch into each of their foreheads.
One at a time. Nothing else mattered.
He lifted his eyes, looking through the shadows that were only growing darker.
One green eye watched him.
Jelani froze. His river of tears finally stopped flowing.
His eyebrow twitched. His jaw clenched. Like a wild animal, he bared a full mouth of teeth and sprinted.
The green eye receded, threatening to vanish from sight.
In a wild mania, eyes screaming rage, Jelani flung the steel knuckles from his fists.
The weapons soared through the alley, but at the moment they should have made contact, the eye vanished.
He lunged forward, clawing at the air with his hands, but his fingers found nothing and he tumbled out onto a new street, barely lit with the final rays of the setting sun.
Leaping to his feet, he ran his eyes over everything. He leapt to the alley's entrance and scanned its interior. He looked at the ground. He looked into the sky.
He scrambled back, whipping left then whipping right. Every inch of his skin was covered in blood. His hair was soaked with it.
"COME OUT!!" he screamed.
"COME OUUUUT!!!"
"I was waiting." The response came from above. "I was waiting for you to come back."
It was the holy voice, descending from the heavens.
Jelani froze.
"Sorry! It wasn't them. It was me!"
Slowly, he tilted his head to the sky.
But there was no angel there–no holy spirit.
A man with brilliant white hair was floating in midair, purple eyes watching Jelani from above.
"I killed lucas!"