Categories > Original > Horror > Suicide Pact
Part Two: Voices of Violence
Kellin's body thrashed, small moans of pain escaping his lips.
"Please don't hurt me.." He whimpered, completely unaware of the actions his body was undertaking. He had been unconscious since his head hit the pillow, almost 6 hours ago. The blessed part of the 27-year-old being unconscious was, he wouldn't remember anything.
--
"Who's weaker?" Brendon asked, a mischievous glint in his washed-out eyes. That was the sucky part of being dead, everything fades and you're left with the remains.
"Clearly the dude with the darker hair. The Mexican is putting up with us," Gerard growled out his words as he ran his fingers through Vic's hair, tugging at it harshly. The sleeping man felt no pain.
"So, we work on this one." Alex thrust a pale finger at Kellin's twitching frame, an almost-demonic smirk working on his lips.
"No shit, Sherlock. What do we do this time?" Jack asked. His arms slid round the faded waist of his fiancé.
"I want them to go the way we did," Patrick whispered, cheek pressed against Gabe's chest.
"Jumping? That's always the easiest." A new voice spoke this time.
--
"I had the weirdest dream," Vic muttered as he busied himself with making breakfast for the two of them.
"Same.. Hey, baby?" Kellin asked as his head swiveled to face his fiancé, worry evident in his crystal blues.
"Mm?"
"Did you scratch me last night?" Kellin's hand waved about in the air, a blush coloring his cheeks.
"Don't think so, no. Why?" Vic's eyes softened in concern as he gazed over at his fiancé, biting at his lip.
"Um.." Kellin sighed quietly as he lifted up his shirt to reveal his pale chest, littered with scratch marks. Vic let out an audible gasp as his eyes ran over the red gashes.
"Shit.." was the word that left his lips, one hand clutching his mouth.
"I'm not so sure I like this house."
--
"All we've done is scare them. We need to get actual fucking thoughts into his head," Ryan hissed as the group lounged about, watching Kellin and Vic.
"You leave something that isn't Kellin's or Vic's in the house, duh." The new voice tuned out to belong to one Andy Biersack, a 19-year-old that had offed himself after finding out that his boyfriend, Ronnie, was seeing some other dude, Craig. The group had gladly accepted him.
"And where the fuck do we get something that isn't theirs?" Brendon snapped. The boy wasn't in a good mood, that was evident.
"Already done," Andy sighed, a smirk on his pierced lips as he picked at his painted-black nails.
As Kellin slowly tidied up the house, the thought that something - or someone - was in the house became heavier in his cluttered mind. The thought that Vic might be seeing someone else never crossed his mind - well, not until he found a pair of black silk boxers that didn't belong to either man.
Kellin's body thrashed, small moans of pain escaping his lips.
"Please don't hurt me.." He whimpered, completely unaware of the actions his body was undertaking. He had been unconscious since his head hit the pillow, almost 6 hours ago. The blessed part of the 27-year-old being unconscious was, he wouldn't remember anything.
--
"Who's weaker?" Brendon asked, a mischievous glint in his washed-out eyes. That was the sucky part of being dead, everything fades and you're left with the remains.
"Clearly the dude with the darker hair. The Mexican is putting up with us," Gerard growled out his words as he ran his fingers through Vic's hair, tugging at it harshly. The sleeping man felt no pain.
"So, we work on this one." Alex thrust a pale finger at Kellin's twitching frame, an almost-demonic smirk working on his lips.
"No shit, Sherlock. What do we do this time?" Jack asked. His arms slid round the faded waist of his fiancé.
"I want them to go the way we did," Patrick whispered, cheek pressed against Gabe's chest.
"Jumping? That's always the easiest." A new voice spoke this time.
--
"I had the weirdest dream," Vic muttered as he busied himself with making breakfast for the two of them.
"Same.. Hey, baby?" Kellin asked as his head swiveled to face his fiancé, worry evident in his crystal blues.
"Mm?"
"Did you scratch me last night?" Kellin's hand waved about in the air, a blush coloring his cheeks.
"Don't think so, no. Why?" Vic's eyes softened in concern as he gazed over at his fiancé, biting at his lip.
"Um.." Kellin sighed quietly as he lifted up his shirt to reveal his pale chest, littered with scratch marks. Vic let out an audible gasp as his eyes ran over the red gashes.
"Shit.." was the word that left his lips, one hand clutching his mouth.
"I'm not so sure I like this house."
--
"All we've done is scare them. We need to get actual fucking thoughts into his head," Ryan hissed as the group lounged about, watching Kellin and Vic.
"You leave something that isn't Kellin's or Vic's in the house, duh." The new voice tuned out to belong to one Andy Biersack, a 19-year-old that had offed himself after finding out that his boyfriend, Ronnie, was seeing some other dude, Craig. The group had gladly accepted him.
"And where the fuck do we get something that isn't theirs?" Brendon snapped. The boy wasn't in a good mood, that was evident.
"Already done," Andy sighed, a smirk on his pierced lips as he picked at his painted-black nails.
As Kellin slowly tidied up the house, the thought that something - or someone - was in the house became heavier in his cluttered mind. The thought that Vic might be seeing someone else never crossed his mind - well, not until he found a pair of black silk boxers that didn't belong to either man.
Sign up to rate and review this story