His Soul to Take by C.M. Torrens

time. Did you, uh, get the Christmas gift I sent?"
    A harsh grunt came through the line. “I never opened it. Gave it to the church."
    Robert winced and nodded. He had expected as much. He bit back tears and cleared his throat. “At least it didn't go to waste."
    "Did you need something? I don't got no money to give you—"
    "I don't need any money,” Robert said. “I just called... I don't know why I called. I'm sorry to bother you. I'm sorry about everything."
    Another long pause drifted through the line. “You get yourself right—"
    "Dad, please.” He took a deep breath. “I gotta go. I shouldn't have called. I'm sorry. Take care, Dad."
    Robert hung up the phone and took several deep breaths. His vision blurred and he fought back tears. Real men didn't cry. Real men didn't do a lot of things. He had heard it throughout his entire life. A disappointment from beginning to end. He vaguely wondered if his father would set him in the family plot. Would he belong after he was dead?
    He whipped the phone across the room and watched it shatter into a dozen pieces as it hit the wall. Bits of plastic scattered over the carpet. He didn't want to think. He could barely breathe.
    Getting to his feet, he grabbed his wallet and keys and headed down to the liquor store. He needed something stronger than what was in his fridge right about now.
    He made his way down the block and pushed open the door. A chime rang through the store and a kid, not more than seventeen, spun to face him with a gun in hand. Half his face was covered in a bandana and scared, young, wide eyes stared back at him.
    Robert froze.
    "Don't you fucking move!” the kid shouted, looking around in a panic.
    Robert's eyes fell on the store owner, sprawled across the floor. Blood oozed from his head and pooled around his face. His eyes were closed. Robert wondered if he was dead. Would Simon come?
    "I'm not moving."
    "Open the fucking register!"
    "All right. I can try. Let's just stay calm, okay?"
    The boy glared at him and motioned toward the register. “Get the money! And your wallet."
    Robert moved out of the doorway toward the register and reached slowly for his wallet. The sight of moment outside the glass doors behind the boy caught his attention. A woman fumbling with her purse outside the door. The boy's hand trembled as he held the gun.
    Heart pounding, he pulled out his wallet. “Here."
    The door opened behind the kid and he started to swing around to look behind him.
    "Hey!” Robert shouted and dove at the youth to keep him from hurting the woman.
    The gun went off with a deafening bang as he tackled the boy. His ears rang as they tumbled to the ground and rolled. A glass shelf crashed on top of them, and a wicked burn ripped through his chest as if trying to sear his soul. The woman screamed and raced back out the door. Numbness spread across Robert's chest, and the gun went off again. Heat seared his guts and strength evaporated from him.
    He blinked as the kid stared down at him. Horror and shock rippled over his young features. With the bandana gone he was even younger than Robert had first thought. Not more than fifteen. Just a boy. Breathing was getting more difficult, pain growing like a cold fire through him.
    The boy ran. The sound of the door chime echoed through the quiet shop.
    Sirens wailed in the distance as his vision faded and all went black.
    * * * *
    Pain.
    Robert bit back a scream, his guts burning, his chest heavy. Faces hovered into view, and bright lights shone down from overhead.
    "What's your name?” someone asked.
    The fire in his stomach shot through every fiber of his being as something touched his gut. His lungs exploded with a cry of anguish and his vision started to blur.
    "Hey! Stay with us. What's your name?"
    "Robert,” he choked, gasping for air. “Robert Lasker."
    "Okay, Robert. We're going to take good care of you, okay? Just hang on. How old are you Robert? Any medical conditions we should know about?"
    He