Chapter Four

That night, I picked my second target.

The kid had never went back to the Curtis'. He was probably afraid of what they'd say, afraid they all knew what 'he' had done. Basically, he didn't want to face them. I could feel it.

"No more," he whispered. "No more! Leave them alone..."

I laughed wickedly in my mind, or rather, his mind, and smirked.

"Why? Why should I?"

The kid shook his head.

"They didn't do anything to you! It was me. Kill me. Punish me."

"I plan to." I said coldly, smirking to myself again. I planned to make them all suffer, and kill them all too. One by one, they'd all figure out how it felt to be dead. And I'd go back to hell to rot, not like I cared. Getting revenge was enough for me.

With that said, I started controlling his legs, making him walk in the direction of the Curtis' once again.

Although he struggled, I managed to get him up the stairs and through the door.

Standing over the middle Curtis' best friend, the butcher knife in my hand once more... I brought the knife down. But what happened next I hadn't expected at all. Trembling, the kid called out.

"Steve! Wake up! MOVE!"

The boys eye fluttered open, and he moved just in time to avoid the knife I was about to stab right through his heart. Like Darrel had, he looked both frightened and confused.

"Johnny, what...?"

He had to move again to excape my second attempt at drilling the knife through his chest.

"It's Bob... H-he's..."

I succeeded just before he could get the words out. And there lay Steve Randle, my second target. Dead. Dead as a doorknob.

As if on impulse, the kid started shaking again, tears threatening to fall.

"I... I can't believe you just did that," he whispered.

"Well, believe it," I said, grinning cruely and scooping up the body in his arms.

He cringed when his hand and the body's skin touched.

Then, I, or, WE, carried him out into the back yard, dug a hole again, and burried him right next to Darry.

"Now to do something about that blood on the floor."

So, it's short and Bob is physco.