Hey. You know, I've never really written a character death story so here's a small try. Warning: I'm not, at all, a Jo fan. I find her foul-tempered, clingy, sarcastic and downright manipulative of others. Enjoy, I guess...Disclaimer: I don't own BTR. I ONLY own the one shot's plot.
"Police are having a difficult time piecing together the true motive behind these murders..."
"Every victim left in such vile conditions, often dismembered..."
"The few clues left behind suggest these strings of killings are executed by one person. A person who has a vast knowledge of human psychology and intricate surgical procedures..."
"None of the victims share a connection, leading police to believe that the victims are chosen by sheer whim..."
"Kendall Knight, a seventeen year old boy from Sherwood, Minnesota, has been missing for over four months now. Kendall disappeared one day after school, and since then the SPD has been conducting a separate search for him..."
"Police suspect Kendall has been taken as a hostage by the killer. He disappeared around the same time the killer was terrorizing The Mid West, and so far his body has not been found. His mother and sister are at edge, praying for his safe return..."
"The principal of Sherwood High School, the school Kendall has attended since he was fourteen, sends his best wishes to the Knight family and hopes that he will be found alive..."
"So far, the killer's moves have been simple: have a person of his choosing be lured into a false sense of security, primarily at night when they go to sleep. The killer butchers them while asleep, or if startled awake, covers their mouth with a hand and proceeds to impale them with a long kitchen knife. Strangely enough, none of the victims are found with traces of DNA residue from the killer. He seems to wipe clean the crime scene of fingerprints, leaving messages on the walls but in the victim's blood. The SPD have asked for samples of the blood found at the crime scenes, but so far none match Kendall's blood type..."
"Many questions are still large in this gruesome, unclear mass murder case: who is this killer? What drives him to commit these heinous, inhumane acts of torture? How does he pick his victims, and if he is holding a hostage...how long will it be before he kills him too?"
I reached under my bed and took out the smooth, heavy black case.
With my long, wavy blonde hair pulled back, I undid the lock and wrenched the case open.
Inside was a gun, a silver body glistening within the hard, thick foam.
While I turned up the volume on my police radio to catch more, I pulled the gun free and reloaded it, the pad of my finger memorizing the curve of the trigger.
I've traveled all the way here to Los Angeles, California for one reason and one reason only.
To kill James the Killer.
Yeah, that was his title now by me. The police couldn't find anything on him, stupid and useless, but I could. I once knew him you see, him and Kendall.
Kendall had been my first real love since my last ex-boyfriend. I met him when he and his family were visiting North Carolina one summer, and have loved him ever since. James, to me, had been this weird, quiet kid that Kendall had been friends with since meeting at some kid's fifth birthday party. I never liked him that much but Kendall and him were best friends, so I had to suck it up and deal with him. He was just too weird though; he was always reading, quiet like a mime and when he did talk he would stutter. His wide eyes, off smile and closed off demeanor reminded me of an anti-social ghost, bookworm style.
Ghost because no one really saw him. I mean, he was a freak: who would want to see him? He'd just poison people, a thing that didn't belong here or anywhere.
He was into scary stories too, he practically lived off of them.
Weirdo. To the extreme.
But Kendall somehow adored him, and didn't hang out with him out of pity. He was actually into those things James liked, like video games, sports, scary stories and music. Normal stuff I know, but James wasn't normal.
How could this cool, cute funny guy befriend such a freak I'll never know.
But I had been right about him for the start: he would turn out to be a monster in the future. I mean, he's butchered over seventy people in only a year; if that wasn't a monster, then what was?
And right now, Kendall was in danger. James could lose his freaky mind and kill him at any second.
But I was going to stop him. I did my homework, researched everything I could dig up about him. I also mapped out his movements, tried to think like him. I figured he would move to Los Angeles next, his next stop to hunt and mutilate more people. I remember he mentioned moving to California once, because he wanted to become famous. Famous at what I couldn't recall, what I did recall though was that Kendall promised he'd go with him.
Wherever James went, Kendall followed and vice-versa. It was true even now, but I knew that their relationship wasn't the same.
It wasn't the same and I had to fix it.
I had to save Kendall.
-Page Break-
It wasn't hard to track James down to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of L.A. He chose his hideaways like he chose his victims: simple, obvious, won't be missed.
He certainly won't be missed once I'm done with him.
I cut the engine of my motorcycle and pulled off my helmet, my gun ready strapped to my right hip. I wore all black to blend in with the crisp, cool night. There was a new moon out tonight, clouds thick and a stark gray.
I took tentative steps towards the big, metal door. It was unlocked and left ajar, the interior pitch black. I stuck out a hand and forced it back farther, gun firm in my grasp.
"James, James! You sick bastard, get your sorry ass out here now! I know you have Kendall, let him go now and I might just not blow your fucking brains out! I SAID GET OUT HERE, DAMN IT!"
I was glad to hear I sounded braver than I felt, my insides in a tight twist.
It was silent following my outburst, still and calm.
Until I heard it. His laugh.
"Hahahaha."
-Page Break-
That laugh should be illegal.
It was sick, disgusting, repulsive.
Kendall use to tell me how he liked how James laughed, how it made him want to laugh too.
But what he found nice in that laugh..it must be gone now.
Because that laugh was high-pitched, squeaky, and rough.
Like nails to a chalkboard.
"Hahahaha...hahaha, h-h-hello Jo."
He appeared out of the shadows like a snake. Tall, muscular frame hidden by his baggy hoodie. His hoodie was white with black stripes but soaked in blood, the bright red trickling down the front and seeping into his ripped blue jeans. There were dark red handprints on his sleeves, collar; evidence that he showed no goddamn mercy to his victims as he chopped them to pieces. His jeans had faded bloodstains worked into them, so did the laces of his black sneakers. In his right hand he held the long, steel butcher knife he used to kill his victims. He had his hood up, it stained with blood, his free hand jammed into his hoodie pocket.
His bloodstained clothes were horrendous, but his face...his face was not human.
The right half of his mouth...a huge chunk of flesh was missing. The skin and muscles had hardened, a deep purple that might have suggested decay or severe infection; his teeth were visible, all straight and pearly white but crusted with old blood. Stitches once made now ruined, strings hanging from his lower jaw like a broken marionette's. That half of his mouth was cut, carved to droop downwards in a permanent frown.
The other half of his mouth was cut to curve upwards like a half smile, dried up blood painting his lips a richer, darker shade of red. Most of the skin there seemed leathery, dry and lifeless. Skin once a rich tan almost chalk white, and his face seemed much thinner than before. His teeth were glossy with blood and saliva, mostly from chewing the flesh off his fingers. His own face showed no clear indication of what he was feeling inside because one side frowned, while the other smiled.
There was a hole in his face, where his right eye use to be. Now it was an empty black hole in his face, dried blood clinging to his thin lashes; he had gouged his own eye out, the left one rimmed in what looked like ash. Like he had set himself on fire with gasoline or alcohol.
He had...mutilated his own face.
He was sick...Kendall, oh God what if he had done that to him?!
"You sick son of a bitch!" I growled, soon seeing red. My body moved on its own accord, the gun in my hand my only protection from this monster.
The monster that stole Kendall from me.
He was going to die, tonight!
It. Was. Over!
Bang!
"NO!"
-Page Break-
A gasp left me, my whole body freezing up.
I nailed James straight in the stomach, he gurgling on his own blood as he went down like a ton of bricks. He twitched and jerked uncontrollably on the floor as if having a seizure, lone eye wide and an angry red and wet. The knife in his hand clattered to the floor, hair once brown dark and smelling of salt and copper. Red painted his skin like a blank canvas, all the while his breathing sharpened and sounded forced.
But it wasn't the sight of him dying that froze me to my spot. James Diamond, no James the Killer, was dying. I did what I came to do, now I just had to find Kendall.
But then...Kendall screamed.
"NO!" He fell on his knees, crawling over to the insane brunet's bleeding out body. He didn't care that his clean clothes, a green jacket and black jeans, were soon stained crimson. He had tears in those beautiful bottle green eyes, dirty blond hair saturated with sweat. He was pulling James into his arms, trying to stop the flow of blood.
"JAMES! James, p-please stay awake! You're going to be okay, I-I-I promise, you're going to be okay! J-J-Jamie, just stay awake...!" I heard him choke out, said boy wrapping a thin, shaky hand around his wrist.
James mustered a smile as best as he could with his face's state, tears meeting the cold concrete floor with soft, light plops.
"K-Kendy...I..."
He never finished.
-Page Break-
"No, n-no. No, no, no! NO! JAMES! PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK! PLEASE, P-PLEASE! NO!" Kendall buried his face into James's ruined hoodie, shoulders shaking as he fell apart.
"JAMES, JAMES NO PLEASE NO! I LOVE YOU, PLEASE DON'T GO!"
Those words shattered my heart to pieces.
Kendall...l-loved him? A monster, a sick twisted bastard that murdered so many people? Had James managed to completely brainwash him...?
Those beautiful green eyes, usually so friendly, were cold as stained glass. So much hatred, bitterness, and anger in them...
"YOU MONSTER! H-HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM?! HE WAS PROTECTING ME FROM YOU!"
Suddenly, it came to me.
James wasn't disfigured, a now dead murderer in Kendall's arms. He was back to his soft brown hair, now hallow hazel-green eyes, and dark skin. His clothes were the same but not drenched in blood, only soaking red where I had shot him. No knife in sight, just him slowly rotting in Kendall's arms.
Kendall was bleeding from a deep cut on his cheek, clothes now worn and drained of color.
I had my eyes meet the growing pool of crimson on the floor, meeting my reflection.
And I screamed.
It was MY clothes drenched in blood.
It was MY face horribly disfigured, with that hideous half smile.
It was MY hand holding the long butcher knife.
It was...me.
I had killed those people. I had kidnapped Kendall. I had hurt him. And I had shot James, who had been trying to save him.
Trying to steal my love away.
My love. MY love.
"AHHHH!" I stabbed the knife through Kendall's stomach, his blood soon on my hands.
I watched as he bled out on the floor, hand reaching out towards James but never quite touching. He was dead seconds later.
Despite the heat of his body dissipating, eyes dull and lifeless now...I smiled. I smiled and pulled him into my arms, heading for my motorcycle.
Leaving James's worthless corpse behind.
"Now, you and me can be together forever. Hahahahaha...HAHAHAHAHA!"
...
I won. I win, I always win.
I always get what I want...