"The Bittersweet Bond"
By: Seinasu
Disclaimer: All characters belong to S.E. Hinton and others associated with legal rights.
Author's Note #1: This story takes place right before the hitchhiker events in S.E. Hinton's novel Tex. Bryon and Mark from her other novel, That Was Then, This Is Now, are featured in this piece.
Holy crap, I'd forgotten the most important thing to add when I first posted this... my HUGE, HUGE thanks to Nittanylizard, RileysMomma, and Hahukum Konn for their C&Cs. This fic would never have come to life without their inputs. Now, dear readers, you shall read their wonderful stories - after you read this one, of course! :-)
As soon as Bryon unlocked his front door and stepped into the darkness of his living room, black and white colors collided before his eyes, with a sheering pain that struck him across the back of his skull.
CRACK!
Most people would've had their heads shattered from the blunt force of the swing, but not Bryon Douglas. He was always a big fellow and was capable of handling physical labor. He used to be good in fights and loved rumbles. Unfortunately, that was another lifetime ago and as Bryon crumpled to the carpet, a small pool of blood oozed from the ripped flesh beneath his hair. He desperately clung to consciousness like a lifesaver.
The door closed behind him and the living room lit up with a flick of a switch.
"Long time no see, buddy boy."
Bryon could barely get his thoughts into a straight line, but the familiar voice forced him to open his eyes, to focus through the agonizing pain that fogged his vision. Although he couldn't move his head, the person who struck him stood before him as a wooden bat fell to the floor just a few inches away.
"C'mon, Bryon, I figured you were able to handle more than that." There was a small chuckle as Mark Jennings got down on his hands and knees and lowered his face to the ground, so that he was at eye-level with his childhood friend. "Oh, well, what do you know...? I guess being in prison can really give someone like me a good work out, huh?"
"M-Mark..."
From what Bryon could see, Mark still looked like Mark: small build, same gold colored hair, but his eyes were much darker than before. His smile was twisted, like he was observing something comical.
"Relax, Bryon, I didn't hit to kill. I made sure of it."
Before he could even blink, Mark pulled out a gun and pressed the barrel up against Bryon's forehead. It might have been painful if not for the agony he was already experiencing.
"I've been thinking about this for a very long time," Mark explained as he lay down on the floor alongside Bryon but kept the gun firmly in place. "Prison gives you a lot of time to think about things. First off, you gotta establish your place in the pen. Someone like me who's looking like an easy target – I made sure I killed someone. Maybe it was two of 'em...? Yeah, heh, how could I have forgotten about that guard on the way out?"
He beamed. "I can't remember... but I can see myself doing it more and more. It's real easy once you get the hang of it. Now that I'm out and about, I figured why not get some more practice out of you, buddy?"
"Mark, you..." Bryon gasped as the swelling of the pain got worse. He was trying very hard not to pass out. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry for what happened… but you were..."
"I was… what?" Mark cocked the gun and stood up onto his knees, his dark eyes bearing down upon the other. "I could've stopped, Bryon. You didn't have to do what you did." His voice began to rise as he continued. "You fucking asshole. You were supposed to be my best friend. I loved you, man!"
"I didn't want... to see you get... get hurt!" Bryon struggled with pushing the words through his lips. "You went too far...!"
"And you're a hypocrite."
Mark pulled the gun back, only to strike Bryon across his temple. Bryon winced and tasted blood, as his face was pressed against the carpet from the impact. Suddenly, Mark's foot kicked him at his side, forcing him to roll onto his back. Bryon tried desperately to move his arms and legs but Mark sat down on his chest and put the gun to his forehead once again.
"You thought you were stone cold, Bryon Douglas," Mark said in a low voice, "turning in your best friend like that. I meant it when I said I didn't directly hurt the kid. You must've thought you were a big man in school, didn't you? Now look at you, living in the big city with your apartment. I saw you driving that nice lookin' car earlier today. Say, do you got a wife? Any kids? You probably got it all, don't you? Meanwhile, I was stewin' in my cell for a few years, just thinking about the many ways I can get back at what you've done to me."
"Mark…"
Bryon slowly closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering sigh.
"… just get it over with."
The blond gunman was silent. His victim didn't move. The stillness of the night seemed to weigh heavily upon the two former best friends. Just outside, a neighbor's dog barked incisively for a couple of moments.
Finally, Mark grabbed a fistful of Bryon's dark hair and yanked his head toward him, forcing his face to be just inches from his.
"I came all the way from McAlester just to see you suffer," Mark began, his voice shaking with rage, the gun resting against his hip, "to see you squirm, and all you can tell me is 'get it over with?!'"
Bryon's eyes were mixed with fear and sorrow. The fear in his eyes viewed Mark as a ferocious lion ready to shred him to pieces. The sorrow, however, saw their childhood fading further and further away, an old film reel of their lives becoming engulfed in flames. They had been the best of friends - they were brothers, even if they weren't related by blood. No matter what they went through, they'd always go back to each other.
Just like today, whatever was left of their bond, brought them back together.
Suddenly, Mark started laughing maniacally.
"Bryon, Bryon, Bryon..."
His fingers released their hold on Bryon's hair. Bryon gasped as his backside hit the bloodied carpet, and he gritted his teeth as Mark kicked him in the ribcage. Once again, he was facing the end of the gun barrel.
"Sit up." Mark's commanding voice was low and steady as he kept his unwavering aim on him.
Bryon shuddered uncontrollably as he desperately tried to swim through the fog of consciousness, focusing on Mark who was now looming over him, and not on the gun that was prepared to end his life.
"Just 'get it over with,' huh, Bryon? After all this time, all these years, you just want me to 'get it over with?'"
Mark lowered the gun to Bryon's chest and let out a small, disappointing sigh.
"You bore me."
Bryon watched as Mark flashed him one last smirk before pulling the trigger.
THE END