There have been many times in my life where a phrase has made me ill to my stomach. Examples of some of these would be, "We need to talk" and "John, listen..." but never had I heard the phrase, "I'll take care of him."
The Artist took me on a scenic tour, much like the one Silence had taken me on prior to my meeting with our mutual frienemy. We slept in her car, but she always kept her gun close. She didn't trust me, and from the sound of that phone call that morning, someone didn't seem to want me around anymore either.
She got off the phone, back into the car and told me to buckle up. We had one last stop to make. This was it. Anytime now, I'd either be begging for my life, sobbing uncontrollably, or I'd just be another body left in the trunk of a car. I didn't want to die for nothing, especially knowing I had fought all this way for nothing to begin with. Knowing that Annie never loved me from the start made the fact that my death would be meaningless all the more depressing.
I was going to die...
FOR NOTHING.
So I just smiled, and buckled my seat belt and we took a ride.
I needed a plan.
john
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