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BIG SHOCKING CHAPTER!!! Full of suspense and all that good crap.

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The feeling now?
Nothing.

I don't think you can call it apathetic.
This is four stories above it.

It's not that I don't care.
I think it's that... I can't care.

I won't allow myself to.
I made that pact.
"I won't allow myself to care," while I was unlocking Brendon's door.

"Hi Ryan."
Cheerful.

I smirk.
"Hi Brendon."

I overheard this one.
Some idiot put Brendon in front of the History Channel where he picked up that serial killers live off of pain and fear.

Therefore when you talk to them casually or in a friendly manner, they feel threatened.

Stupid Brendon.
Poor, stupid, stupid, Brendon.
If only you knew what I did only a few feet from you.
If only you knew what I had planned for you.

He smiles back.
Despite all I've done to him:

Attack him with shovels, punches, kicks, cleaning and gardening chemicals....
He still has that beautiful smile.
The one that made me fall in love with him two years ago.
The one that melted my candy heart.

Sheepishly transfixed, I can't help but notice something about his smile.

There was no heat.
My candy heart didn't melt.
It shattered.

But that's okay.
I won't care.

I lay next to him, our faces so close I can feel his breath on my lips.

Moving closer to me, he places a gentle kiss upon my lips and I shiver slightly as he slips his tongue into my mouth.

I pull away and look into his eyes.

Have we made the same pact?

"I have something for you."
"Oooh, is it a present?"
Excited.

"You can call it that."

I reach into my back pocket and hand it to him.

His face drops and the very little color he had in it left once he saw it.
Staring mouth wide open he screams.

"What the fuck did you do?!"

Now I'm confused.

"I did what you wanted me to do, Brendon," my voice small.

"No," he mumbles softly.
"No."
Distraught?

He gets up and runs to the far corner where he empties out his stomach.

Well, whatever was in there, seeing as I hardly fed him.

The room goes silent.
Him, now crumpled in a ball on the floor, his head facing the wall.
Me, now sitting up looking at him with utter confusion on my face.

Wh- what does he mean no?
Why did he scream at me?
He never screams at me.
xAsk him what's wrong.

I get up and take small steps towards him.
"Brenny?"

He moves his leg.
"What's wrong?"
He turns his head and tears stream wildly down his face.
"You....."
I cock my head, waiting for him to choke out the words.
"You...ki-killed her."
The "her" a small susurration on his lips.

"I know."
He looks up at me bewildered.
"Isn't that what you wanted?"

He sits up.
His expression, wide-eyed and insane looking.

"What I wanted?"
His tone scares me.
Scares me to a point where I cannot answer verbally.
Hesitantly I nod.

He gets up and walks to me.
His socks touching the fronts of my shoes.
His breathing ragged and uneven.

"You.. and that's..what you say that's what I wanted."
I didn't get to finish nodding again before he dragged me down to the floor with him by my throat.

Landing on top of me he straddles my hips.

xYou know, this would be really erotic if it wasn't for the choking part.

Tightening his grip with every curse, my vision gets more blurry and darker by the second.

Raising my arms, I weakly nudge his face as my head began feeling light.
This did nothing, for he only took this as a sign to bang my head roughly against the tile as he kept his tight grip around my throat.

Just when I thought I'd duck out of the race a burst of energy builds up inside me and I slug Brendon in the face. Knocking him off me, he lays next to me, stunned, as I struggle to catch my breath.

Once I did, alarmed, I look over at him.
He stayed in the same position, staring at the cruel gift I gave him.

A Polaroid.
A Polaroid of my second favorite person.
In a garbage bag leaking blood, her arm sticking out of a hole in the bag. The red heart that once read 'Brendon' in it, now blue and the words, unintelligible.

Well I told him in advance didn't I?

I snatch it out of his eye's view, causing him to look up at me.

Standing up and taking a handful of his hair with me, I bend over, forcing him to look me in the eye.

"Don't you understand Brendon. It's over. It's all over. I'm yours now. You can stop now."
He blinks in a cold fashion.
"All the pain I've caused you is over,"
I say as a take his bottom lip in between my teeth.
"Now there's pleasure."
He responds by not moaning into my mouth like I expected him to, but by roughly pushing my face away.

"Pleasure? Really?"
No answer.
"My God. You actually think I loved you. What the fuck made you think I loved you. You're useless."

He didn't say that.
He didn't.

"You're fucking demented.
You killed my fiancee.
Get it straight that Aymi, not you, Aymi, was the one I love. Loved."

It wasn't until I began turning purple that I realized I wasn't breathing.

"But two...years ago?"

"What about it?"

"You asked me out."
I say in a whisper mostly to myself.

"Only because I thought that was what it took for me to fuck you. And as we both know, it actually doesn't."

"You don't mean that."

"I don't mean it? I don't mean it Ryan? Keeping me hostage in your house? Torturing me? That wouldn't give me plausible cause to say that, right? Oh God! Right now, I just wanna fucking kill you!”

I let go of his hair, letting his upper body thud to the ground, I focus on the wall across from me.

"So what you're saying is...You...don't...love me?"
"Not. One. Fucking. Bit."

I stare.
I nod.
And don't stop.

I just keep nodding.
And I just keep staring.

Feeling his eyes shot bullets into that spot underneath my chin yet above my neck, I look down.

I look down and my eyes meet with his.
Full of rage, resentment, and sorrow.

"Then...in that case," I begin dazed.

And continue by straddling him and, using my two hands, punching him.

There's something about watching his head flop around, with one punch one of his ears would hit the tile abruptly and with another the same happens with the corresponding ear.

There's something about hearing him gasp stop any chance he can get.

Something about watching the blood cover my fists like gloves and splatter against my face.

Something about it...it's so ....reassuring.

Reassuring me that everything's gonna be alright.
Just as long as the blood flows.

Getting off of him, I feel utter disgust as he thanks me in whispers for stopping.
If anything he should've been begging me to continue.

Standing at his side, my bloodlust too strong to deny, I delivered hard kicks to him.

His chest.
His back.
Oh and his head especially.

I'm gonna make sure you won't breathe the same again.
I'm gonna make sure you won't walk the same again.
I'm gonna make sure you won't dream the same again.

Blood flies.
It pours.
It's everywhere.

I feel my stomach twist and my legs weak. But that doesn't stop it from flying also.

I can't recall how long I was standing there, kicking him.
If it was a short amount of time and a lot of force.
If it was long period of time and very little force.

Who knows?
He does.

I look down at him and feel tears burn my eyes.
He's not moving anymore.
I noticed that a while ago.

I stop.
Looking at him, memories rush back to me.
The times we had not too long ago.
The laughs we had.
The random conversations we'd had.
How he'd make funny faces to cheer me up.
How he'd dance around the room like an idiot as soon as I said 'I'm bored, entertain me'.
Tears start streaming down my face.

What the fuck did I do?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Wasn't I usually the "sane" one of the four of us?

Regret, remorse, empathy, all of it, rushes to me.
My internal promise runs away from me.

I should bend down and kiss him, let him free, tell him I'm sorry for causing him so much pain and agony for so long even though he did it to me through her.
But instead I kick him in the back. He doesn't do anything.
Only stares at the wall like I did through his eyes.
His dead eyes.
Tears dried, long fallen from them.
My tears are just beginning.
I just don't stop.
I keep kicking.
Harder.
And harder.
I don't stop.
I don't think I can stop.

He cough violently and blood pours from his lips.
Then I stop again.

And I wait.
For another sign.
Any movement.
Any sound.

"Brendon?"
I choke out after staring at him until my eyes burn from lack of blinking.

I bend so slowly into a kneeling position
I examine his body crumpled at my feet.

I grab his head to turn it so he's facing me.
I only turned in at most 20% when I hear the loudest cracking noise I've ever heard.
Looking away I know I have to turn back.
I gag and feel food run up my throat as I lock my eyes against the pearly white, jagged bone that forced itself through the skin.

xHmm.. So that's what our spinal cord looks like.
Holding back another gag, I look over my newest masterpiece.

His lips: The ones I once kissed. The ones that would be so full and pink. Now bruised perse and swollen frozen in a silent scream.

His eyes: The ones I used to look deep into. The ones that showed every emotion he had whether he tried to hide them or not. Now both black around the edges, sunken, and bleeding. Now dead, lifeless, lackluster.

His hands: The ones that would brush over my body during shows. The ones that would tease me, making me forever grateful of the placement of my guitar.
Now broken. Joint by joint.
That not long after I had control.

Then, with all the strength and courage I don't have, I press two fingers on the other side of his neck.

I remove my fingers and flip him over on his back.
Fishing two quarters out of my pockets, I force his eyes shut and place the coins gingerly on his eyelids.

And letting my sobs escape my unforgivable lips, kiss his bloody cheek.



One last time.