Bang, a punch.
Heh, Tommy chuckled. As expected, just flashy moves—he still thinks he can protect Keller?
Bang, another punch.
Tommy didn't dodge, taking the hit directly, but he grinned as if daring Evan to punch harder, more violently.
Evan noticed this, their gazes briefly locking.
Then.
In Tommy's eyes, Evan saw madness—a twisted, demonic smile, bloodthirsty and mocking his cowardice and fear.
In Evan's eyes, Tommy saw shock, and that made him sneer. This man—who claimed he wanted to protect Keller.
But—
The truly pitiful thing was that Keller still chose him, this flashy, useless fool.
Ridiculous. Pitiful. Laughable.
Keller had abandoned him, betrayed him, and discarded him.
So, he would destroy her.
Tommy stared at Evan, bruised and battered but still calm, lying on the ground and looking up at Evan with a crazed, twisted grin.
"She's mine."
He said.
Even in hell, he wouldn't let go.
Those words, light as a feather, carried no power, but they pushed his insane obsession to the extreme, finally morphing into a sinister smile.
Ha. Hahaha.
Evan saw the devil in those eyes—
A fist raised high, coming down hard.
Yet it still couldn't erase the madness and bloodlust on the devil's face.
"Heh, you can't..." Tommy said.
The fist came down again, cutting him off, trying to silence him. Evan just wanted him to shut up.
But Tommy refused. "I bet you don't have the guts..."
His words, laced with the scent of blood, relentlessly taunted Evan, inching him closer to losing control.
One punch, then another, and another.
Finally!
Tommy didn't speak anymore.
Evan, panting, raised his fist high again but stopped just before swinging, struggling to regain control. His mind was in chaos, his chest heaving as he stared at Tommy.
Tommy stopped resisting, finally quiet.
Evan thought maybe he should stop too.
However.
At that moment, Tommy barely opened his swollen eyes, and amidst the blood on his face, a smile appeared, as if mocking Evan's helplessness.
Contempt. Scorn. Derision.
Lying there, his half-closed eyes shot a sliver of light that pierced Evan's soul. That blood-soaked voice rippled through Evan's panting breaths:
"You can't protect her."
Memories surged, choking Evan as they flooded back—all the painful memories from before the timeline had changed—
Back then, he had missed his chance to save Keller, leading to her choosing to end her own life. He would never know what her father and brother had done to her, nor what scars her childhood had left that made her want to forget everything, even her own life.
The thread of reason snapped.
The fist that had relaxed a second ago clenched tightly again, fury, pain, and bitterness erupting from the depths of his soul, and he struck down with unbelievable force at that twisted smile.
Bang.
"You ruined Lanny's life."
Bang.
"You killed Crockett."
Bang.
"You murdered that woman and her child."
Then, his fist stopped, raised high. Staring at Tommy's bloodied face, grinning arrogantly and viciously, Evan's mind buzzed with deafening noise.
Through gritted teeth, words squeezed out between clenched jaws.
"Now,"
"You're trying to kill me. You're trying to destroy Keller. You're trying to destroy us."
The rage in his chest turned into tears, streaming down one by one, only to be quickly swallowed by madness, as though the wings of a dark angel were blocking the last ray of light.
"Ah!"
Evan grabbed a baseball bat and swung down with insane fury.
The world finally fell silent.
Keller ran back, heart pounding in her throat, whispering softly, "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy..."
She feared Tommy would do something reckless.
But just as she arrived, she saw Evan swinging the bat down hard. Her eyes widened, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.
She stared in shock at the scene before her.
She tried to speak, tried to make a sound, but nothing came out—
A faint, whimpering sound, like a newborn baby.
The distant wail of sirens grew louder, as if the whole world had slowed down, everything moving in slow motion.
Evan took a deep breath, looking down at the bloody mess on the ground. His shoulders were raised, muscles tense, holding his breath. His eyes were blank.
Stunned, he stared at Tommy lying motionless before him, unable to understand what had just happened.
Then.
He lifted his head, blood splattered on his face, staining his eyes red. His scattered focus slowly converged under the flashing lights of police sirens. He looked down at his hands, frozen in place.
The night wind blew, the moonlight falling, wrapping Evan in its glow, the soft light cascading down his body like blood.
He froze. A single, cloudy tear broke free from his eye and slid down.
"Cut."
It wasn't until McGee snapped out of it and shouted the word that he seemed to free himself, though his body remained stiff and unmoving.
The entire set was silent, frozen in shock.
A gust of cold wind rushed through, sending shivers over every inch of his skin. His mind finally started catching up, trying to react, but his brain was blank, even his screams and cheers stuck in his throat.
Shock. Impact. Tension.
Words couldn't describe even a fraction of the feelings and emotions surging inside him. Even after witnessing it firsthand, it was still impossible to believe what he had just seen.
Drama, conflict, tension.
It wasn't just the plot; they could clearly see the struggle of three characters, three souls, each consumed by their own despair, converging at this tragic moment in different ways—
No one was victorious.
Whether they acted or not, whether blood was shed or not, everyone was left scarred.
It was as if they could see the souls withering and dimming before their eyes, yet no one could stop it, not even a sound could be made.
That kind of despair. That kind of pain.
Even as mere spectators, they were utterly exhausted, feeling the sighs and helplessness from the depths of their souls, a fatigue they couldn't shake, drowning, suffocating bit by bit, watching themselves disintegrate.
Everything, not just complete, not just real—it was overwhelming.
Even after the scene had ended, they were still unable to pull themselves out of it.
McGee noticed that even after calling "cut," the crew remained frozen. But right now, he didn't have the energy or presence of mind to deal with them. The storm raging in his mind left him gasping for air, struggling to breathe.
So, McGee called out again—
"Cut."
It was over, everything was over, the spell was broken, and they needed to return to reality, to escape from the endless mire of despair, to breathe.
Finally, they gasped for air.