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The road was found in silent, more than he was used to. No vehicle could be heard passing, there were no birds and not even a little breeze to whisper to him. Nothing.
As well as what Jim had left, nothing. It was weird, but it seemed that the empty, silent road managed to reflect his own feelings right now. Not sadness. Not anger. Not feelings at all but heat and thirst..
Ryder had just taken away his last hope of saving himself, to prove his innocence and get out of this whole damn 'game'. The bullets John shoot at the cops weren't for him, but he felt like they were. He felt them. He felt them pierce his chest and skull making him cry out in pain as the bullet hole burn him. But all he felt was emotional, far from being physical.
Jim didn't know which one was worse.
He looked down at the thing with a dangerous weight his hands were holding. He had never held a gun before, much less pointed it at someone. John almost managed to turn Jim into someone like himself, but he didn't and Jim wasn't going to let that happen. He was going to take that as a victory even though everything around him seemed to be the opposite.
But that small victory that he had just proclaimed did not give him the strength to continue with this. He didn't want to continue with this anymore. He was trapped. He was caged in the open road. And that was when his concept of freedom changed. With trembling hands he raised the gun up and placed it under his chin. As he mustered his strength to pull out the trigger, Jim thought of John Ryder. Would this be a victory for him or for Jim? Maybe it was a tie. Jim could be free and John could see him dead, everyone was winning.
He wasn't really sure how to use the gun so he just did what he had seen in old Clint Eastwood movies, he pulled the hammer back, making a not very pleasant gear sound. He closed his eyes as his fingers caressed the trigger. After a long sigh ...he squeezed it.
He felt his heart stop for a few seconds at the shock that the sound of the gun gave him. He couldn't quite understand what happened but he was still alive, which meant that the bullet never came out from the gun.
In an ephemeral act of bravery, or cowardice depending on how you look at it, he pulled the trigger again many times but always got the exactly same sound and no bullets.
It was empty ... that bastard.
Now he did feel much more hopeless than before. John Ryder had also taken away from him this small hope for escaping his deadly game.
With the little energy that he had left, he tossed the weapon away from him with a frown. Now, Jim had nothing, literally nothing, not even the chance to decide on his life.
His legs were tired as well as his entire body and mind. He felt tired of everything but he couldn't do anything about it. He was sure the police are probably still looking for him but he wasn't going to bother to escape, he no longer had the energy or the will.
Jim lay down on the side of the road with his back up, his arms at the sides of his torso and his head facing the road but he closed his eyes as he felt them heavy.
He felt how the strong sun was burning his back a bit but he had no intention of moving, in fact he no longer had any intention of anything, not even in opening his eyes.
Jim was going to stay there, waiting for his death. It was what he wanted most right now, waiting to die.
Jim knew John was somewhere near watching him. Watching Jim lose his will to go on, probably with a smile. If he was lucky, John was going to show up and kill him once and for all, but if not, it's because he would like to see Jim die like this, slow and painful.
His throat began to quickly dry up becoming painful and almost unbearable. His forehead was burning, he felt dizzy and his head was spinning. It seemed like he was having heatstroke but he absolutely didn't care, if that was going to help him with his death, brilliant.
If Ryder were here, Jim would gladly tell him his holy four words to end this but it seems fate wanted Jim to die like this, hopeless, in pain - both mentally and physically - and sunburned..
After a few minutes - or hours, he didn't know anymore - Jim began to feel sleepy and weak. He heard footsteps in the sand echoing on the road approaching to his body and managed to put him in alert again but still without opening his eyes. Suddenly his closed eyelids no longer felt the discomfort of the sun, being able to open them slowly trying to know what or who was shading him.
When he opened his eyes he looked up and, even though he was thinking about him, seeing him was always different. He was scary, intimidating, and Jim felt totally unsafe. Always popping up out of nowhere when you didn't expected it.
Jim tried to back off, trying awkwardly to escape but he found all his muscles burned and numb causing him to let out a little hiss between his teeth.
He looked up again and there was Ryder, with a malicious smile looking at him with his penetrating blue eyes that managed to touch even the recesses of your soul with a single look. That was what horrified Jim the most, his cold eyes on him, staring with fixation and mockery.
"Giving up already?" His low, raspy voice echoed in his ears like a drum. "What a shame ... you were playing with me so well." A breeze began to blow, softly moving John's gray hair and so Jim's.
John leaned down to stroke the tormented boy's hair. Jim tried to dodge his touch but when he saw that he couldn't stop him, he let himself be caressed with shortness of breath. "I thought you were smart" he said sounding like he was disappointed. "You can't even kill yourself properly" he added still stroking his hair. His words were honest and strong but there was something about them... it almost sounded like John was worried about him.
No, it can't be.
Jim remained in silence
"It would have been quite a show to see your brains fly out of that little head of yours and fall on the sand... No, no, I think I wouldn't have liked it." He commented, lightly massaging Jim's head as if he was imagining Jim killing himself. John's hand slowly came down to his neck, leaving it there for a few seconds making exaggerated gestures of pain. "You really wanted to die like this? I don't think it would ever occurred to me. You are definitely not a coward."
"Just ... k-kill ... me." He managed to articulate in a worn and hoarse voice between short lapses of painful coughing because of his dry throat. Jim couldn't take it anymore. His heart beat fast and even stopped when John placed a hand on him, making him feel anxious and unsure of what his next move would be. With each slow movement of his hand, Jim felt like Ryder was looking for the perfect spot to stab or shoot him and that thought was driving him crazy.
"Oh ... look what you've done to yourself. That sounded painful" Ryder clicked his tongue shaking his head with a false pity. But not that false though. "You can barely speak and you can't move. That way we can't continue playing." He changed his tone to a more serious and threatening one, making Jim feel goosebumps all over his body, feeling how the fear enveloped him. "I'll to have to end your suffering." He spoke again in the same voice tone, separating from Jim's motionless body with his intense gaze on him. Jim, scared, saw how from the pocket of John's overcoat he pulled out the exactly same gun with which he killed his hope moments ago and quickly pointed it directly at his head.
Jim without noticing it began to shed tears.. Some tears were impotence, others regret, others pain, but the most important ones... were fear. He heard the gun's hammer make that gear sound again, he closed his eyes tightly and even unintentionally sobs came out uncontrollably from his mouth. In those moments he wondered... Did he really want to die? He didn't know but it didn't matter anyway, it was too late.
Jim startled when he felt the gun rest on his head making him regret his decision even more.
Suddenly the gun left his head and he didn't hear any shot, again. He opened his eyes slowly and found Ryder smiling at him with a bottle of water in his hand. The killer leaned over to Jim again and put the bottle in front of his face.
"Scared you?" He asked raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile lightning his face. Jim couldn't understand. It was not the first time John did something like that instead of killing him. He had several occasions where he could easily killed him but John didn't. He simply gave him time or gave him things to continue surviving as he did now with that bottle.
The water looked tempting but his arms were so sore that he couldn't even move them no matter how much he wanted to. Ryder stared at Jim's unsuccessful attempt to reach the water, clumsily trying to catch it, making it fall horizontally and roll to John's feet. That was it, the murderer seemed to get irritated by Jim's clumsiness and ended up taking away his only salvation at the moment. He grabbed the bottle of water and put it back into his pocket.
Now definitely I'm going to die, Jim thought.
"You're worse than I thought" He let out with a deep voice and his face was thoughtful. After giving Jim another look full of pity, Ryder smirked. "I tell you what, kid. As it seems I'm winning, I'll give you a truce until you recover so we can continue playing." He said maliciously and still kept his sinister smirk. Jim trembled at the proposal. What was he planning to do? Kidnap him? That was very likely.
Suddenly, Jim felt two strong arms lifting him off the ground and, at the same time, lifting all the sand and dust off the road. Jim tensed and tried to escape from Ryder's arms but his sunburned muscles remained him that he couldn't move.
"Easy kid, easy. You're only going to hurt yourself more." Ryder spoke with a cigarette in his mouth that Jim didn't know where he got it from.
He was afraid. What if he lied about the truce? And John just wanted to kill him in his car? He felt anxious being carried his arms like dead weight. Many thoughts ran through his head and one of them was definitely death even though John told him he was not going to hurt him. Jim definitely couldn't sit back and relax and believe that, there was no need to remember that Ryder was the psycho who tried to kill him in the first place.
And that same psychopath didn't want him to die at the hands of the blazing sun.
Probably to kill him with more pleasure later, Jim thought.
His thoughts vanished when he felt a fresh cushion on his back. Inevitably he felt relaxed and he let go a little sigh. He opened his eyes slowly and managed to see the roof of a car.
When he remembered what condition he was in and who he was with, he felt his heart beat fast. His relaxation ended when he heard the driver's door closing up.
Ryder, with his sharpened blue eyes, was watching him from the rearview mirror. Jim felt as if Death itself was watching him, unknowingly he began to breathe heavily.
"In spite that I told you that I'm not going to hurt you, you're not going to calm down, aren't you?" He said and turned to the back seats where Jim was to look him face to face. After examining him with his gaze, he smiled again but without malice this time. It was a sincere and calm smile, as Jim could interpret. "I really doubt that you can escape in the state you are in but your door is unlocked if you want to try". He warned without taking his eyes off Jim.
Jim noticed that his kind of friendly smile turned into a mocking one and his eyes reflected superiority and pity towards him. .
What kind of game was John playing? Why did he tell him that about the door? Was he allowing him to escape? Or maybe Ryder knew he couldn't escape no matter how much he wanted to. Ryder had confidence on his side and Jim, sadly, couldn't agree more. As much as he wanted, his muscles were sore.
Jim knew very well Ryder's games even though they've only known each other for a couple of hours. His goal was always to confuse him, to play with his mind a bit and perhaps thus, to drag him into his own madness. It was not going to fall.
"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked with his sore throat. His voice had recovered a bit but still, it hurt to speak. Jim knew well why he was asking that and he was sure that John Ryder knew what the aching kid in the back seats was referring to.
John just raised an eyebrow, curled his lips thoughtfully and then looked down at the floor of the car. It seemed like he was at a loss for words, strange of him. He never took so long to answer.
Ryder reached into his pocket roughly, making Jim freak a bit.
"Like I said, I thought you were smart." He said with no particular voice tone. "Are you going to want the water now?" He asked a little irritated offering him the bottle.
Jim blinked and without asking again he took the bottle of water. As he tried to push the water down his throat he watched Ryder's movements.
He was sitting there with a cigarette looking out the window. The car was not moving, it was parked on the side of the road and he seemed to have no plans to start it.
At that moment he felt bad for himself. In that moment he wished be smarter to try to decipher Ryder's actions because, of course, he would never tell.