Post by Cullen Montoya on Aug 11, 2014 21:07:02 GMT -6
It was always worse at night. The quiet. Cullen never could stand the quiet. Being alone wasn't a problem. He was always alone. He's felt like he was ever since he was 14. It didn't matter if he was surrounded by people or not. Even during his time in the Rodriguez household, Cullen felt like the odd man out. A man without a country. A man without a family. In truth, it was the way he always liked it. Life was so much easier not being truly connected to anything. It made it easier to walk away when things started getting too real.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the picture that had been delivered to him. It was a part of his life he had been trying so hard to forget. Memories of the things he's done were what still continued to keep him up at night. Tonight was no exception. Henry Lau brought all those memories to the forefront. There was no escaping them now. Worst of all, his greatest fear was being realized. People were getting hurt because of him. People who had no idea the kind of person Henry is. The kind of person who Cullen is.
Cullen didn't even know if he could protect them. He hasn't been doing a very good job of it lately, watching one friend after another getting hurt. It takes its toll on a man's soul to watch it happen over and over again. Cullen was used to winning. He was used to finding a way to make everything right, but he couldn't seem to make that work anymore. He was losing. Everything. And the tighter he tried to hold on, the faster everything seemed to be slipping away from him. Henry was going to win, and there wasn't a fucking thing Cullen could do about it.
His hand reached for his nightstand to open the top drawer. A handmade, hollowpoint 357 round was removed as his fingers slid over the smooth metal jacket. He had made the bullet himself shortly after he came home from his last tour. It was all part of his plan. He couldn't do it anymore. Everything was becoming political, but there was nothing else that he could do with himself. It wasn't like he could just retire and go work at Walmart. When he made that trip back to New York, it was to say goodbye.
Whether or not Damion knew of his intentions, Cullen didn't know, but he still managed to stop him. Damion saved him by sending him out to Cali. Cullen found a new purpose when he started working for Lev. He found a way to use his skills to do something good, to really help people. Rather than line some faceless politician's pockets. And for a while, that was enough to keep the darkness away. Even when everything started going bad, he was still able to keep that darkness away. Cullen had not completed his objective. He still had a mission.
But now? He wasn't so sure anymore. Dara found herself a boyfriend, Rifka was safely protected by the club, and even Thia was well on her way to finding her place within the new dynamics. Dawn was gone because of him, because of his actions. Trei wouldn't have been out on that highway by himself if Cullen had just been able to keep his shit together. And now Henry was hurting people to hurt him. He knew there was one very definitive way of putting a stop to all of it.
Reaching down between his feet, he takes one of his Pythons from the holster, feeling the familiar weight in his hand. The twin Pythons had always been his favorite weapons, even if he often relied on other firearms in battle. The Pythons were always his aces in the hole. A beautiful combination of elegance and stopping power. Unloading the one in his hands, he places the ammunition aside before sliding the handcrafted hollowpoint into one of the empty chambers before giving them a spin.
The drum was snapped into place with a sharp flick of his wrist as he stares down at the gun. It would be so simple. Turning the gun towards him, he stares down into the barrel with a mild fascination. He's been shot before, but he always wondered what the Python felt like. All he had to do was open his mouth and squeeze the trigger.
Swallowing hard, he felt his hands beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Everything would be so much easier. He could finally get some damn sleep. He just wanted to get some sleep. His eyes got blurry as he continues to stare down the barrel. There was no doubt about it. He was going to make sure he did it right. The Python would guarantee that he finally got something right.
His thumb begins to put pressure on the trigger, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels his hands shake even more. He was trained to pull the trigger without hesitation. Why couldn't he do it? He had done it before. He had taken lives without so much as blinking. What was holding him back now? It wasn't in his makeup. He was a bona fide, certified, government-trained killing machine. All he had to do was squeeze!
A sob finally breaks from his chest, dropping his hands down between his knees with the pistol pointing toward the floor. His tears came freely down his face, allowing his hair to create a curtain around him. Broad, muscular shoulders shook from his silent sobs for the first time in years. He just wanted it to be over, knowing he couldn't take much more by himself. His father's condescending voice could still be heard inside his head, “While you're off saving everybody else, who's going to save you? You have nobody.”
His hand was still shaking when he placed the gun on the nightstand, leaning forward to bury his face into his hands. Maybe he would get lucky. Maybe Henry or somebody else would take care of the issue for him. With the way his luck had been lately? He would just end up being the last man standing.
Wiping his hands over his face, he twists around to sit on his bed with his back against the headboard. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, allowing his gaze to fall back onto that old photograph. His intention was focused entirely on the smug smirk of Henry Lau. A reckoning was brewing between them. There was no other way to look at it. When the dust finally settles between them, one of them would be dead. Cullen's only hope was to make sure he dragged Henry down to hell with him.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the picture that had been delivered to him. It was a part of his life he had been trying so hard to forget. Memories of the things he's done were what still continued to keep him up at night. Tonight was no exception. Henry Lau brought all those memories to the forefront. There was no escaping them now. Worst of all, his greatest fear was being realized. People were getting hurt because of him. People who had no idea the kind of person Henry is. The kind of person who Cullen is.
Cullen didn't even know if he could protect them. He hasn't been doing a very good job of it lately, watching one friend after another getting hurt. It takes its toll on a man's soul to watch it happen over and over again. Cullen was used to winning. He was used to finding a way to make everything right, but he couldn't seem to make that work anymore. He was losing. Everything. And the tighter he tried to hold on, the faster everything seemed to be slipping away from him. Henry was going to win, and there wasn't a fucking thing Cullen could do about it.
His hand reached for his nightstand to open the top drawer. A handmade, hollowpoint 357 round was removed as his fingers slid over the smooth metal jacket. He had made the bullet himself shortly after he came home from his last tour. It was all part of his plan. He couldn't do it anymore. Everything was becoming political, but there was nothing else that he could do with himself. It wasn't like he could just retire and go work at Walmart. When he made that trip back to New York, it was to say goodbye.
Whether or not Damion knew of his intentions, Cullen didn't know, but he still managed to stop him. Damion saved him by sending him out to Cali. Cullen found a new purpose when he started working for Lev. He found a way to use his skills to do something good, to really help people. Rather than line some faceless politician's pockets. And for a while, that was enough to keep the darkness away. Even when everything started going bad, he was still able to keep that darkness away. Cullen had not completed his objective. He still had a mission.
But now? He wasn't so sure anymore. Dara found herself a boyfriend, Rifka was safely protected by the club, and even Thia was well on her way to finding her place within the new dynamics. Dawn was gone because of him, because of his actions. Trei wouldn't have been out on that highway by himself if Cullen had just been able to keep his shit together. And now Henry was hurting people to hurt him. He knew there was one very definitive way of putting a stop to all of it.
Reaching down between his feet, he takes one of his Pythons from the holster, feeling the familiar weight in his hand. The twin Pythons had always been his favorite weapons, even if he often relied on other firearms in battle. The Pythons were always his aces in the hole. A beautiful combination of elegance and stopping power. Unloading the one in his hands, he places the ammunition aside before sliding the handcrafted hollowpoint into one of the empty chambers before giving them a spin.
The drum was snapped into place with a sharp flick of his wrist as he stares down at the gun. It would be so simple. Turning the gun towards him, he stares down into the barrel with a mild fascination. He's been shot before, but he always wondered what the Python felt like. All he had to do was open his mouth and squeeze the trigger.
Swallowing hard, he felt his hands beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Everything would be so much easier. He could finally get some damn sleep. He just wanted to get some sleep. His eyes got blurry as he continues to stare down the barrel. There was no doubt about it. He was going to make sure he did it right. The Python would guarantee that he finally got something right.
His thumb begins to put pressure on the trigger, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels his hands shake even more. He was trained to pull the trigger without hesitation. Why couldn't he do it? He had done it before. He had taken lives without so much as blinking. What was holding him back now? It wasn't in his makeup. He was a bona fide, certified, government-trained killing machine. All he had to do was squeeze!
A sob finally breaks from his chest, dropping his hands down between his knees with the pistol pointing toward the floor. His tears came freely down his face, allowing his hair to create a curtain around him. Broad, muscular shoulders shook from his silent sobs for the first time in years. He just wanted it to be over, knowing he couldn't take much more by himself. His father's condescending voice could still be heard inside his head, “While you're off saving everybody else, who's going to save you? You have nobody.”
His hand was still shaking when he placed the gun on the nightstand, leaning forward to bury his face into his hands. Maybe he would get lucky. Maybe Henry or somebody else would take care of the issue for him. With the way his luck had been lately? He would just end up being the last man standing.
Wiping his hands over his face, he twists around to sit on his bed with his back against the headboard. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, allowing his gaze to fall back onto that old photograph. His intention was focused entirely on the smug smirk of Henry Lau. A reckoning was brewing between them. There was no other way to look at it. When the dust finally settles between them, one of them would be dead. Cullen's only hope was to make sure he dragged Henry down to hell with him.
