Jack Twist Death Novels & Stories

His mother had given him instruction to clear out the loose end who had threaten to expose them if they don’t add to his pay. “You know one thing about weed, Josh?” Ryan said to the guard who shielded him with the umbrella. “No matter how you treat them, they are still unwanted” he added and started walking over to were Martin was. The sound of the water splashing as Ryan stepped on puddles notified Martin that someone was behind him. “The dead are unconscious of nothing; that’s a popular saying from the Jehovah’s Witnesses yunno” Ryan stated as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He held it out and a guard lit it up for him.

A short, thick-bearded man (a dwarf with bushy beard), with a long tail stood in old man Jenkins’ path and grinned at him. “MOVE IT!” Old man Jenkins yelled and increased his speed. He kicked the dwarf out of his way. The dwarf flew through the air, yelling in pain as the green mist clung to him and peeled off his skin, then flesh and even dried up his blood until only bones were left. The dwarf had already died before he landed. Only his skeleton landed beside instructor Jack who rolled on the floor and jumped as he grabbed the dwarf’s big head and threw it at an unsuspecting gangster fighter. The gangster fighter realized it too late and had a skull embedded in his chest.

“Your brother Jax stole five hundred grand from my Tijuana run. Coke, cash, and the address of my little sister. Then he disappeared. You’re the only thing he ever loved more than the needle. So tonight, Riven Kane, you’re the payment.” I leaned in, licked sweat and blood off his collarbone, bit hard until he hissed. “Jax is dead,” I whispered on his skin. “Overdosed in Barstow six months back. I burned him myself. Want your money? Dig.” Quiet. Then Dax smiled (slow, mean, pretty). “Good. Then the debt is closed.” He reached for the Glock. “Except I don’t do free.” He pulled the slide, pressed the cold barrel between my tits, slid it down my belly, stopped right on my clit.

He retched continuously as he complained, "What exactly are you pulling, Joyce? I'm giving you one last chance! If you still refuse to come out, I'm really going to be angry!" However, his cursing gradually quietened, and he walked over to squat in front of my corpse. The basement was hot and stuffy, which had caused my corpse to rot beyond recognition; maggots were crawling all over my skin and flesh. Instead of pinching his nose like before, Toby leaned closer to my face. Soon afterward, he exploded with rage. "Are you still going to continue playing with my feelings, Joyce? You even made the fake corpses look so realistic! How could you possibly have died? You definitely wouldn't have, so

It's only by sacrificing you on New Year's Eve, when your resentment is at its peak, that the Zeller family can secure another century of fortune. "You see, that bottle of whiskey didn't just contain sleeping pills—it also had Soul-Snares Powder. You might not have drunk the whiskey we poured you, but you inhaled the fumes when you threw the whiskey. If my calculations are right, the drug should be taking hold right about now." In that instant, everyone in the room was stunned, and even the police officers were momentarily paralyzed. I felt a sudden onset of dizziness as my pulse quickened to a frantic pace, and the world before me dissolved into a haze.

"You're an orphan with no family ties. Serve a few years inside, and I'll pay you enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. When you're out, I'll handle everything." He paused, his eyes narrowing behind the lenses. "But if you refuse, I'll use every resource at my disposal to ensure you can't survive in this city. And all the money I've given you? It will be reclaimed." Money... He knew it was both my weakness and my armor. My tears splashed onto the confession paper as I trembled from head to toe. The system prompted: "Host's acting skills at Oscar level. Strategy mission enters final settlement phase. Prepare for Faking Death exit."

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

The day after, the hospital indeed retracted its penalty on Joshua. Jackie loved Joshua so much that she wouldn't stop calling his name before her death. On the day Jackie passed away, Joshua locked himself in the room and smoked two packs of cigarettes. However, he emerged looking normal, chatting and smiling at me as usual. He drove me to work and picked me up, and he made dinners for me just like before. His behavior deceived me into thinking he had let go of the past; that he had realized it was inappropriate for him to overly grieve the death of an ex-girlfriend.

That wasn’t what I’m expecting him to say. “Fuck, what? Hell no. He died, remember?” I say, glancing at Layla. Now, without whatever Nadia was feeding me, the memory of Quade’s confession is crystal clear. He didn’t kill Tray that day, but he did die. We all saw him. “You talked to him before he died though…” I begin. “I did, and we buried the body, but I took the Sapphire from him. But it wasn’t real. Nikita managed to break it, and I got the pieces-”

Damn it! @Death Wish