Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Strangers From Within
Kill All Your Friends
3 reviewsFrank couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was about him, but Caine seemed a little bit odd, he wasn’t really doing anything peculiar- unless socialising was suddenly out of the ordinary. ...
3Exciting
Chapter Text
“Gee-”
“Shut up Mikes.” And he looked at them, one by one, and Frank could swear that his gaze lingered on him, but fuck if he knew whether that was good or not. “Why were you in my room?”
“We thought you had the-”
“I thought I told you to shut up.” His tone was conversational, easy, soft even, but his jaw was clenched, as clenched as his fists, his nails cutting into his palms. Mikey opened his mouth, as though he was going to speak but thought better of it, closing it again.
“So- Why were you in my room?”
“We- Uh-”
“And be warned, Frankie Iero, if you bullshit me, I will make sure you never sleep again.”
“We- Um-”
“You other boys can get the fuck outta my house now.” And again, there it was, his voice was so calm and so light, but you just knew, if you didn’t do what he said-
Well, shit was gonna go down.
“We- Uh-” Ryan, god bless his spindly soul, tried to hold out, Gabe practically tripping over himself in his haste to get out, Gerard watched him go and turned back to Ryan, “Did I fucking stutter, Ryan Ross?”
“No- No I’ll- Bye guys-” And then he was gone too and Frank was alone. With Gerard. (And Mikey, but like he was going to be any help at all.)
“So…” Frank said, marvelling at his remarkable ability to stop his voice from wavering, “You like bananas?"
Mikey just rolled his eyes and left.
And then Frank was against the wall.
“Why were you in my room?” Gerard demanded against, his arm up against Frank’s throat, just holding him there and not quite cutting off the oxygen.
“Maybe you should mention why there’s a goddamn pentagram on your wall… drawn in blood, before I tell you,” Frank wasn’t completely sure where this boost of confidence was suddenly coming from, but his inner sass-master seemed to be emerging from hibernation.
“What?” Wow, Gerard actually had the audacity to look at him like he was crazy. THE MAN HAD A FREAKING BLOOD-MADE PENTAGRAM ON HIS WALL LIKE IT WAS THE AVERAGE EVERYDAY POSTER.
“Oh you know, that big ass symbol on your wall that you must’ve cut an artery to paint? Mikey said you were an artist, but honestly I thought he meant sketching,” Frank was hoping his boner wasn’t in clear sight, he was sort of glad Gerard was kind of crushing him and hiding it, though that may actually have been what caused it in the first place. It’s not everyday that you just have a hot guy slam you against the wall and freaking growl in your ear. Well, not if you’re me anyway.
“Okay Frankie, that sounds insane even coming from you,” Gerard let his arm drop and stepped back, allowing Frank to stagger forwards and gasp for air and free, unseen libido.
Wait a minute; did he just call Frank insane?
“IT’S IN YOUR ROOM!"
“Oh for God’s sake,” The way Gerard said God was a little strange, Frank noticed, as if he was relishing it with deep emotion. Maybe he was one of those really into-it Christians… wait no, that can’t work, blood. on. walls.
But then he was grabbing Frank’s wrist and dragging him towards the bedroom, if only it was quite as dirty as it sounded, Frank wished in his head.
“Does it really,” Gerard kicked the door open, “Look like there’s blood on my walls?”
Frank’s jaw dropped. What had been blood had been replaced with… with nothing really. He was staring at a completely clean, blank, blue wall.
“I don’t… I don’t- what, I don’t get it,” He just managed to mumble. He could feel the eldest Way brother’s eyes boring into his back, and he was totally resisting the urge to turn around and bring on the sass once more, but he was too busy trying to figure out how the fuck Gerard had gotten rid of the beautifully creepy wall painting thing he’d had going on not five minutes ago.
“You don’t get what? A blank wall? That’s because there’s nothing to get, Frankie, it’s just a wall.”
“But-“
“No buts, just walls.”
Frank turned around slowly.
Gerard Way stood there in his fantastically dark form with his arms folded and his facial expression unreadable. His eyes were blank, as if he’d mastered the art of showing nothing with them, like he was a robot with nothing to see or say or think. The atmosphere around Frank was dangerous once again, it as threatening and filled with a brewing temper ready to spill over the edges into a storm of crashing, angry waves and strangled whispers.
It was wrong, he shouldn’t be drawn to someone this dangerous… so why was he?
“Go home, Frankie,” Gerard said quietly, but not too quietly so Frank couldn’t hear the warning in his tone. So instead of ignoring him, instead of going off on one about how he wasn’t crazy, instead of asking Gerard if he was crazy, Frank turned around and left. It was like he couldn’t help himself, it was as if he had to, he didn’t want to or need to or even see a reason as to why he should leave instead of getting answers, but he did anyway.
He was finally at home, lying exhausted on his bed when he realised. Not once, during the entire confrontation, had Gerard stopped calling him Frankie.
*
There were several things of which Frank was absolutely positive about when it came to Gerard Way. He even made a bulletin list to help himself think.
Shit I know about Gerard Way
Looking over the list, Frank realised something, and no it was not that Gerard was hot. He was pretty sure that was obvious anyway. No, it was the penultimate bullet point that made him think. Mikey had said he didn’t believe Gerard had attempted suicide, that Gerard had been happy and didn’t care what people thought. Frank’s known Mikey since he was at least seven, that’s a long time to know somebody for and it gives you plenty of opportunities to get to know them. So, when Frank said Mikey was the best judge of character he’d ever seen, he was pretty damn sure about it.
Gerard obviously hadn’t been suicidal if Mikey thought not, and if so many people had been out looking that night for ‘Donna Way’s lovely oldest son’ then surely the town must have reported it at some point. Hacking, prying, it wasn’t the same as googling Gerard, this was actually finding real shit out about him.
“Okay Frank, this could either be the best or worst decision you’ve ever made in your life, so you’d better be damn fucking sure about this shit,” Frank mumbled to himself as he hauled his body up and into his wheely chair at the desk.
It took him six minutes and thirty six seconds to hack into the police records and find several old news reports on Mr Gerard Way of the Way household.
As he skimmed over the words, he mouthed some of them uncomfortable, descriptions like “Slashed skin” and “Extreme blood loss” were filling him with a mixture of pain for Gerard and a strange sense of… hilarity.
What the Hell, other people’s pain wasn’t funny!
Then one particular paragraph struck him.
“Gerard Way was found cold and unmoving by several sniffer dogs, presumed dead in this state until his eyes were seen moving. Witnessing paramedics say to have seen his eyes turn completely black, this was yet again more evidence towards the possibility of drug taking…”
“…found cold and unmoving…”
“…presumed dead…”
“…completely black…”
What. The. Shit.
*
School the next day was deadly for the group of boys. News of Gerard’s return seemed to have spread even more quickly before and people were acting against Mikey and the guys with even more spite and venom to their words than before.
“I feel like we murdered someone or something,” Ryan said as they ducked, yet again; behind another wall to avoid spit balls. All morning they’d had things chucked at them and insults thrown around by the rest of the student body.
“I know right, it’s weird,” Frank said, dodging an empty soda can as it came flying his way, “Like… what did we do, dudes?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t even aware being associated with my brother was such a bad thing, I mean no one’s ever had a problem before. They’ve never even noticed Gee before… so why now?” Mikey said just before whacking another soda can to stop it from hitting Ryan- who wasn’t even paying attention now- in the face.
“What are you looking at?” Mikey asked, seeking out whatever had caught Ryan’s attention. Frank turned around just in time to see Brendon Urie (OF ALL PEOPLE?) punch the can-throwing-kid smack bang in the middle of his face. Oh, he was going to be sore the next day, Frank was pretty sure that nose was way beyond repair now.
“Holy shit, what was that?” Mikey asked with his mouth hanging wide open.
“I think they accidentally hit him with a can…” Ryan said. There was a sense of uncertainty to his tone, but Frank didn’t bother to question it, there were much more important things to discuss.
“Where’s Gabe?” He said, “I’m really in the mood for food.”
Mikey and Ryan shrugged, still watching with interest as the Captain of the Football Team proceeded to kick the shit out of the guy with all the soda cans. Where do you even get that many cans? Was he hoarding them in his locker or something?
As if he had been summoned, Gabe came around the corner that exact minute, completely ignoring the bloody fight only a few feet away and giving his friends a rather serious look. One thing you have to know about Gabriel Saporta is that when he looks serious, something is wrong, serious is a down right out of character look for Gabe and it usually meant something not-incredible was about to happen.
“Have you heard?” He said in a low tone.
“Heard what? The others chorused.
“Mrs Evans and a bunch of other Church Moms are practically leading a protest against your brother being here, Mikes.”
“Wait what?” Frank couldn’t quite tell whether this was a nightmare or not, Mrs Evans was usually the loveliest woman in town… even with her dick of a son.
“Yeah, I know right, they’re calling him a sinner and handing out flyers on why Satanists are a danger to society. Apparently Gerard was seen hanging outside of the record store doing ‘Devil-worshipping things’.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ryan asked, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
“I don’t know, as far as I can tell all he was doing was having a smoke and chatting to Toro, but according to the adults he was enforcing Satanism and summoning demons or some shit.”
“…”
“…”
“This town is downright crazy,” Mikey said after a minute of heavy silence.
“Tell me about it,” Frank sighed as the bell went, “See you in class guys.”
They all headed off to their different classes, narrowly avoiding several very creative techniques of throwing limes. LIMES.
*
“Who’s he?” Frank asked at lunch, nodding towards a kid that was currently surrounded by a flock of bright orange girls.
“The one with the oompa-loompas?” Gabe asked. Frank nodded.
“New guy, his name’s Caine Luce, he was in my gym class. He climbed the rope faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, he beat fucking Wentz okay.”
“Woah,” Ryan said with a slightly impressed tone, “Speaking of Pete, where is he today?”
“Called in sick apparently,” Mikey said, “But I’m pretty sure he’s just stuck in an intense game of Halo 4.”
“Probably.”
Frank was too busy watching the new guy to pay attention to the rest of them. This Caine character… he seemed interesting. He had bright green hair, which was always pretty cool because I mean come on, only awesome people dye their hair a colour that bold. His face was sharp and pale, with bright eyes to match his hair and even from a distance, Frank could clearly see his clothes were tight fitted and perfect for his figure.
He was gorgeous, he was the centre of attention, and he was off.
Frank couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was about him, but Caine seemed a little bit odd, he wasn’t really doing anything peculiar- unless socialising was suddenly out of the ordinary.
It wasn’t until he looked up and caught Frank’s eye that he saw it. The smirk. That ridiculous, sexy, knowing smirk that he’d only ever seen on Gerard before.
Caine did a little finger wave that nobody else even seemed to notice, and when Frank pointed it out to his friends they just shrugged and said they hadn’t seen him even look their way. Huh, something was up about that, or maybe Frank was just going crazy along with the rest of the fucking valley.
*
The dude was all up in his face, it was both thrilling and terrifying and Frank couldn’t understand why.
Punch him.
Frank punched him square in the jaw.
Knee him in the stomach.
Frank kneed the guy in the stomach.
Knock him down.
The bully was on the ground.
Kick him.
He kicked the boy into tears.
Kill him.
Frank took the knife and stabbed him. The knife slashed through the air and the blade plunged into the bully’s chest, blood spurted in all different directions, spattering the sidewalk and the trees near by, even Frank’s clothes. It spilled out of the body that was slowly paling and growing colder, the grey pavement was painted crimson and the dullness of the air was filled with the sudden warmth of blood. The boy was choking of his own life, drowning in himself, dying and falling into the deep black void that was death.
Frank laughed, pulled the blade out with a sickening squelch, and then licked up the flat side of the blade slowly. He enjoyed the taste of death on his tongue, the lost life of someone he didn’t even know flavouring his lips. It was satisfying as hell.
The boy choked one last time, his hand sliding down the trunk of the tree next to him, leaving a bloody trail of finger marks as his arm fell and hit the ground.
“Aw, did baby get hurt?”
Frank sat up in bed suddenly, gasping for breath and panting heavily. He was soaked in his own sweat and the smell of blood still filled his nostrils. Nightmares were the worst.
He flicked the lamp on quickly and stood up, rubbing his eyes and checking the clock. Midnight, urgh, why did he have to wake up at such specific times? Could his life get any weirder?
Apparently it could, because when he turned around a knife glinted at him from his windowsill. A knife he didn’t even know he owned. A knife covered in something red and sticky that smelled of choking breaths and ghastly death.
A knife that had killed a bully.
“Gee-”
“Shut up Mikes.” And he looked at them, one by one, and Frank could swear that his gaze lingered on him, but fuck if he knew whether that was good or not. “Why were you in my room?”
“We thought you had the-”
“I thought I told you to shut up.” His tone was conversational, easy, soft even, but his jaw was clenched, as clenched as his fists, his nails cutting into his palms. Mikey opened his mouth, as though he was going to speak but thought better of it, closing it again.
“So- Why were you in my room?”
“We- Uh-”
“And be warned, Frankie Iero, if you bullshit me, I will make sure you never sleep again.”
“We- Um-”
“You other boys can get the fuck outta my house now.” And again, there it was, his voice was so calm and so light, but you just knew, if you didn’t do what he said-
Well, shit was gonna go down.
“We- Uh-” Ryan, god bless his spindly soul, tried to hold out, Gabe practically tripping over himself in his haste to get out, Gerard watched him go and turned back to Ryan, “Did I fucking stutter, Ryan Ross?”
“No- No I’ll- Bye guys-” And then he was gone too and Frank was alone. With Gerard. (And Mikey, but like he was going to be any help at all.)
“So…” Frank said, marvelling at his remarkable ability to stop his voice from wavering, “You like bananas?"
Mikey just rolled his eyes and left.
And then Frank was against the wall.
“Why were you in my room?” Gerard demanded against, his arm up against Frank’s throat, just holding him there and not quite cutting off the oxygen.
“Maybe you should mention why there’s a goddamn pentagram on your wall… drawn in blood, before I tell you,” Frank wasn’t completely sure where this boost of confidence was suddenly coming from, but his inner sass-master seemed to be emerging from hibernation.
“What?” Wow, Gerard actually had the audacity to look at him like he was crazy. THE MAN HAD A FREAKING BLOOD-MADE PENTAGRAM ON HIS WALL LIKE IT WAS THE AVERAGE EVERYDAY POSTER.
“Oh you know, that big ass symbol on your wall that you must’ve cut an artery to paint? Mikey said you were an artist, but honestly I thought he meant sketching,” Frank was hoping his boner wasn’t in clear sight, he was sort of glad Gerard was kind of crushing him and hiding it, though that may actually have been what caused it in the first place. It’s not everyday that you just have a hot guy slam you against the wall and freaking growl in your ear. Well, not if you’re me anyway.
“Okay Frankie, that sounds insane even coming from you,” Gerard let his arm drop and stepped back, allowing Frank to stagger forwards and gasp for air and free, unseen libido.
Wait a minute; did he just call Frank insane?
“IT’S IN YOUR ROOM!"
“Oh for God’s sake,” The way Gerard said God was a little strange, Frank noticed, as if he was relishing it with deep emotion. Maybe he was one of those really into-it Christians… wait no, that can’t work, blood. on. walls.
But then he was grabbing Frank’s wrist and dragging him towards the bedroom, if only it was quite as dirty as it sounded, Frank wished in his head.
“Does it really,” Gerard kicked the door open, “Look like there’s blood on my walls?”
Frank’s jaw dropped. What had been blood had been replaced with… with nothing really. He was staring at a completely clean, blank, blue wall.
“I don’t… I don’t- what, I don’t get it,” He just managed to mumble. He could feel the eldest Way brother’s eyes boring into his back, and he was totally resisting the urge to turn around and bring on the sass once more, but he was too busy trying to figure out how the fuck Gerard had gotten rid of the beautifully creepy wall painting thing he’d had going on not five minutes ago.
“You don’t get what? A blank wall? That’s because there’s nothing to get, Frankie, it’s just a wall.”
“But-“
“No buts, just walls.”
Frank turned around slowly.
Gerard Way stood there in his fantastically dark form with his arms folded and his facial expression unreadable. His eyes were blank, as if he’d mastered the art of showing nothing with them, like he was a robot with nothing to see or say or think. The atmosphere around Frank was dangerous once again, it as threatening and filled with a brewing temper ready to spill over the edges into a storm of crashing, angry waves and strangled whispers.
It was wrong, he shouldn’t be drawn to someone this dangerous… so why was he?
“Go home, Frankie,” Gerard said quietly, but not too quietly so Frank couldn’t hear the warning in his tone. So instead of ignoring him, instead of going off on one about how he wasn’t crazy, instead of asking Gerard if he was crazy, Frank turned around and left. It was like he couldn’t help himself, it was as if he had to, he didn’t want to or need to or even see a reason as to why he should leave instead of getting answers, but he did anyway.
He was finally at home, lying exhausted on his bed when he realised. Not once, during the entire confrontation, had Gerard stopped calling him Frankie.
*
There were several things of which Frank was absolutely positive about when it came to Gerard Way. He even made a bulletin list to help himself think.
Shit I know about Gerard Way
He was a nerd at some point, but that shit stopped.
He’s hot.
Pretty sure he’s got some kind of mind-controlly thing going on there.
He’s hot.
He makes things disappear.
He scares me.
He’s hot.
The kids who went to school with him would actually be willing to kill him for reasons we aren’t sure of yet.
He can throw entire dudes into walls.
· He’s got an outstanding ability to make me hard without trying.
He came back from college to visit for no reason.
He’s 21
He tried to kill himself or something when he was fifteen.
He’s hot.
Looking over the list, Frank realised something, and no it was not that Gerard was hot. He was pretty sure that was obvious anyway. No, it was the penultimate bullet point that made him think. Mikey had said he didn’t believe Gerard had attempted suicide, that Gerard had been happy and didn’t care what people thought. Frank’s known Mikey since he was at least seven, that’s a long time to know somebody for and it gives you plenty of opportunities to get to know them. So, when Frank said Mikey was the best judge of character he’d ever seen, he was pretty damn sure about it.
Gerard obviously hadn’t been suicidal if Mikey thought not, and if so many people had been out looking that night for ‘Donna Way’s lovely oldest son’ then surely the town must have reported it at some point. Hacking, prying, it wasn’t the same as googling Gerard, this was actually finding real shit out about him.
“Okay Frank, this could either be the best or worst decision you’ve ever made in your life, so you’d better be damn fucking sure about this shit,” Frank mumbled to himself as he hauled his body up and into his wheely chair at the desk.
It took him six minutes and thirty six seconds to hack into the police records and find several old news reports on Mr Gerard Way of the Way household.
As he skimmed over the words, he mouthed some of them uncomfortable, descriptions like “Slashed skin” and “Extreme blood loss” were filling him with a mixture of pain for Gerard and a strange sense of… hilarity.
What the Hell, other people’s pain wasn’t funny!
Then one particular paragraph struck him.
“Gerard Way was found cold and unmoving by several sniffer dogs, presumed dead in this state until his eyes were seen moving. Witnessing paramedics say to have seen his eyes turn completely black, this was yet again more evidence towards the possibility of drug taking…”
“…found cold and unmoving…”
“…presumed dead…”
“…completely black…”
What. The. Shit.
*
School the next day was deadly for the group of boys. News of Gerard’s return seemed to have spread even more quickly before and people were acting against Mikey and the guys with even more spite and venom to their words than before.
“I feel like we murdered someone or something,” Ryan said as they ducked, yet again; behind another wall to avoid spit balls. All morning they’d had things chucked at them and insults thrown around by the rest of the student body.
“I know right, it’s weird,” Frank said, dodging an empty soda can as it came flying his way, “Like… what did we do, dudes?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t even aware being associated with my brother was such a bad thing, I mean no one’s ever had a problem before. They’ve never even noticed Gee before… so why now?” Mikey said just before whacking another soda can to stop it from hitting Ryan- who wasn’t even paying attention now- in the face.
“What are you looking at?” Mikey asked, seeking out whatever had caught Ryan’s attention. Frank turned around just in time to see Brendon Urie (OF ALL PEOPLE?) punch the can-throwing-kid smack bang in the middle of his face. Oh, he was going to be sore the next day, Frank was pretty sure that nose was way beyond repair now.
“Holy shit, what was that?” Mikey asked with his mouth hanging wide open.
“I think they accidentally hit him with a can…” Ryan said. There was a sense of uncertainty to his tone, but Frank didn’t bother to question it, there were much more important things to discuss.
“Where’s Gabe?” He said, “I’m really in the mood for food.”
Mikey and Ryan shrugged, still watching with interest as the Captain of the Football Team proceeded to kick the shit out of the guy with all the soda cans. Where do you even get that many cans? Was he hoarding them in his locker or something?
As if he had been summoned, Gabe came around the corner that exact minute, completely ignoring the bloody fight only a few feet away and giving his friends a rather serious look. One thing you have to know about Gabriel Saporta is that when he looks serious, something is wrong, serious is a down right out of character look for Gabe and it usually meant something not-incredible was about to happen.
“Have you heard?” He said in a low tone.
“Heard what? The others chorused.
“Mrs Evans and a bunch of other Church Moms are practically leading a protest against your brother being here, Mikes.”
“Wait what?” Frank couldn’t quite tell whether this was a nightmare or not, Mrs Evans was usually the loveliest woman in town… even with her dick of a son.
“Yeah, I know right, they’re calling him a sinner and handing out flyers on why Satanists are a danger to society. Apparently Gerard was seen hanging outside of the record store doing ‘Devil-worshipping things’.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ryan asked, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
“I don’t know, as far as I can tell all he was doing was having a smoke and chatting to Toro, but according to the adults he was enforcing Satanism and summoning demons or some shit.”
“…”
“…”
“This town is downright crazy,” Mikey said after a minute of heavy silence.
“Tell me about it,” Frank sighed as the bell went, “See you in class guys.”
They all headed off to their different classes, narrowly avoiding several very creative techniques of throwing limes. LIMES.
*
“Who’s he?” Frank asked at lunch, nodding towards a kid that was currently surrounded by a flock of bright orange girls.
“The one with the oompa-loompas?” Gabe asked. Frank nodded.
“New guy, his name’s Caine Luce, he was in my gym class. He climbed the rope faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, he beat fucking Wentz okay.”
“Woah,” Ryan said with a slightly impressed tone, “Speaking of Pete, where is he today?”
“Called in sick apparently,” Mikey said, “But I’m pretty sure he’s just stuck in an intense game of Halo 4.”
“Probably.”
Frank was too busy watching the new guy to pay attention to the rest of them. This Caine character… he seemed interesting. He had bright green hair, which was always pretty cool because I mean come on, only awesome people dye their hair a colour that bold. His face was sharp and pale, with bright eyes to match his hair and even from a distance, Frank could clearly see his clothes were tight fitted and perfect for his figure.
He was gorgeous, he was the centre of attention, and he was off.
Frank couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was about him, but Caine seemed a little bit odd, he wasn’t really doing anything peculiar- unless socialising was suddenly out of the ordinary.
It wasn’t until he looked up and caught Frank’s eye that he saw it. The smirk. That ridiculous, sexy, knowing smirk that he’d only ever seen on Gerard before.
Caine did a little finger wave that nobody else even seemed to notice, and when Frank pointed it out to his friends they just shrugged and said they hadn’t seen him even look their way. Huh, something was up about that, or maybe Frank was just going crazy along with the rest of the fucking valley.
*
The dude was all up in his face, it was both thrilling and terrifying and Frank couldn’t understand why.
Punch him.
Frank punched him square in the jaw.
Knee him in the stomach.
Frank kneed the guy in the stomach.
Knock him down.
The bully was on the ground.
Kick him.
He kicked the boy into tears.
Kill him.
Frank took the knife and stabbed him. The knife slashed through the air and the blade plunged into the bully’s chest, blood spurted in all different directions, spattering the sidewalk and the trees near by, even Frank’s clothes. It spilled out of the body that was slowly paling and growing colder, the grey pavement was painted crimson and the dullness of the air was filled with the sudden warmth of blood. The boy was choking of his own life, drowning in himself, dying and falling into the deep black void that was death.
Frank laughed, pulled the blade out with a sickening squelch, and then licked up the flat side of the blade slowly. He enjoyed the taste of death on his tongue, the lost life of someone he didn’t even know flavouring his lips. It was satisfying as hell.
The boy choked one last time, his hand sliding down the trunk of the tree next to him, leaving a bloody trail of finger marks as his arm fell and hit the ground.
“Aw, did baby get hurt?”
Frank sat up in bed suddenly, gasping for breath and panting heavily. He was soaked in his own sweat and the smell of blood still filled his nostrils. Nightmares were the worst.
He flicked the lamp on quickly and stood up, rubbing his eyes and checking the clock. Midnight, urgh, why did he have to wake up at such specific times? Could his life get any weirder?
Apparently it could, because when he turned around a knife glinted at him from his windowsill. A knife he didn’t even know he owned. A knife covered in something red and sticky that smelled of choking breaths and ghastly death.
A knife that had killed a bully.
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