Chapter 21: To Kill, You Must Destroy the Spirit
Marcus sipped his Coke while watching the security camera, quietly waiting for his enemy to return.
About twenty minutes passed.
He saw a black Mercedes pull up in the driveway.
A spry old man, around sixty years old, carrying a bag of Honeycrisp apples in his left hand and a black briefcase in his right, entered the house.
With the sound of the elevator, the old man stepped out on the second floor.
Marcus, dragging the young man's body by the leg, slowly walked out of the room.
The old man had just cheerfully come upstairs when he saw Marcus covered in blood and his son on the ground. His previously kind and gentle expression changed abruptly.
The bag of apples in his hand fell to the ground.
"Son, my son! Doctor, what have you done?"
the old man wailed, glaring at the unlicensed doctor he had hired to obtain a heart transplant for his child.
"I'm not a doctor,"
Marcus said in his own voice.
"You—"
The old man's expression was a mixture of hatred and terror. He recognized the voice; he knew it was the voice of the victim from the basement.
"I understand."
"How much you loved him!"
Marcus dragged the body, carrying the corpse step by step toward the old man.
"You had plans, hopes, and dreams for him."
"He would have a healthy body, a bright future all mapped out."
"You would cherish him, watch him grow up, and he would have had an infinitely beautiful life."
Marcus slowly walked up to the old man, looking at the old man whose eyes were gradually losing their light.
"And I..."
"denied his past;"
"robbed him of his future!"
Saying this, he threw the corpse in his hand in front of the old man with a heavy thud.
"Here you go!"
"This is all that's left of him... blood and flesh, blood and flesh that's about to rot!"
Hearing these words, the old man stared blankly at the dead child in front of him.
Yes, his dream had been completely shattered.
He no longer had time to continue looking at Marcus with hatred.
Recalling his lonely life, he had finally had a son in his old age, and now he, an old man, would have to bury his own child.
"Ahhh~"
the old man screamed madly.
Then he lunged at the living room table, grabbed a steak knife, and slit his own throat.
He staggered a few steps, then collapsed beside the young man's body. He didn't want his child to be cold and alone.
Marcus stood silently, watching the old man's final actions.
People only truly understand the pain they inflict on others when they experience it firsthand.
Which parent doesn't have children? Which parent wants to watch their child die?
This old man was neither right nor wrong, but he deserved to die.
After all, in this world, Marcus... he had a mother too.
Although he had no memories of growing up, he had indeed spent twenty years in this body, his soul slowly repairing itself as his body grew.
Thinking of this, Marcus immediately felt a strong urge to go home.
He opened the old man's briefcase and looked inside; it was filled with stacks of cash, roughly estimated at around one million dollars.
This must be the bribe the old man had given these criminals.
With a thought, Marcus stored the money from the briefcase into his personal space.
He stood up and went to the elevator, paused, and glanced slightly at the two corpses on the ground:
"Old man, thanks for the money, and thanks for letting me witness true darkness!"
The old man, his blood drained, lay motionless in an undignified pose.
Confirming the old man was completely dead, Marcus turned and went downstairs, searching the middle-aged man's room again.
From a black plastic drawer, he found his phone and keys. He pressed the phone, but it was unresponsive; it must be dead.
The phone was a pure black Samsung Galaxy, its casing bearing signs of wear and tear, revealing a few silver-gray spots where the coating had chipped off.
The screen had seven or eight cracks from a previous accident.
The shattered glass reflected the doctor's stolen face; the incomplete reflection, etched by the cracks, looked like a gaze from Hell itself.
'Heh~'
Marcus chuckled coldly, picking out a gray leather jacket from the room and changing.
'Not bad. I like leather jackets.'
Marcus looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and washed his face.
He walked into the yard, and with the doctor's face, smiled at the security camera hanging above the door before getting into the old man's black Mercedes.
Checking his current location, he was already in the northern suburbs. After confirming the route on Google Maps, he navigated to the shortest route back to the city, started the engine, and hit the road.
In his rearview mirror, the estate was already ablaze.
"Looking sharp!"
Marcus, inside "Tony's Barbershop," looked at his slicked-back hairstyle. His strong physique filled out his well-fitting leather jacket, making him look handsome and commanding.
"That's because you got good genes, man,"
Tony, the barber, complimented him.
Abundant blood flow allowed Marcus's muscles to adjust to their optimal state, his entire body possessing streamlined muscles, strong yet agile.
His eyes were deep and bright, his nose high and straight, his smooth, fair face exuding a sharp, cold handsomeness. He had also grown two inches, reaching approximately six feet in height.
He had ditched the car on the side of a remote road earlier, walked a bit further, and stored the doctor's skin suit into his spatial storage.
He dodged pedestrians all the way to the bus station, found a gas station bathroom to wash up, bought a new leather jacket and jeans at a thrift store, and then took the bus back to the city. He arrived at this barbershop; he was fed up with his previous disheveled hair.
'Time to go home,'
Marcus muttered to himself, feeling apprehensive—an apprehension he hadn't felt even when facing the Ice Cenobite.
In the city, Marcus followed the directions he remembered and arrived at his home in the Riverside Apartments.
Three girls were standing near the entrance, seemingly waiting for their Uber.
"Oh my God, so hot! Look, Lily's staring at him."
The girl in the white sundress on the left said with a smile to the girl in the middle.
"If you like him, go talk to him! Get his number!" The girl in the middle nudged the girl named Lily on the right.
"What? But what should I say to him?" the girl named Lily asked.
"Just say anything. Guys are simple creatures. Look, watch me—"
"Hey there, handsome!"
the girl in the middle said, waving her hand at Marcus, who was walking past from the side.
Marcus was eager to get home and didn't want to pay any attention to these people.
Ignoring the woman and the security guard, he swiped his key card at the electronic gate of the complex and walked straight to apartment 402.
"Haha, Sarah, he's totally ignoring you!" The girl in the white dress laughed.
"He just didn't hear me!"
The girl in the middle picked up her phone and started texting, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Marcus stood at the door, took a deep breath, and gently knocked.
There was no response. He remembered that his mother should still be at work at this time, and his younger sister was a freshman in college. No one was home.
In this life, Marcus also came from a single-parent family. His father had died in a car accident when he was three years old, and his younger sister, Emily, was only two months old.
His mother, Carol Henderson, raised two infants alone, relying on her husband's life insurance to get through the most difficult years. Then, not wanting to live off their savings, she went from being a stay-at-home mom to struggling to find work and raising her two children.
Marcus took out his key and opened the door.
The living room was simply decorated in neutral tones, and the 900-square-foot apartment was divided into three bedrooms.
Above the television hung several certificates and awards Marcus and his sister had received as children, including "Honor Roll," "Student of the Month," and their mother's "Employee of the Year."
On the right wall was a family photo of the three of them. Marcus felt his heart, which had been pounding like a jackhammer, slowly calm down and begin to feel lighter.
He was home.
For the first time since returning from Hell, Marcus felt something close to peace.
(End of Chapter)
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