Donnie stormed into the room, his sights falling first on Shawn, standing shaking in the middle of the room, then on Eric, laying in a pool of blood. "ERIC!" he screamed, racing forward and dropping to his knees beside his brother.
Shawn was trying to think straight, though all that was running through his head was 'Oh, God, I just killed him...' He forced himself to calm down; he could take advantage of Donnie's distraction. He saw the gun lying on the floor, and went for it.
"YOU." Shawn looked up. Donnie was now holding his brother, despite the blood that was covering his arms and chest. His voice was contorted with rage, and spit flew as he spoke. "YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!" He screamed, his finger pointing at Shawn as he stood. Shawn, who was making his way towards the gun, had stopped when Donnie had called to him, and now glanced back at it. Donnie noticed the movement, following his gaze, and then they both ran for the gun. Shawn felt it in his hand, and was closing his fingers around it, when it was yanked back.
Donnie didn't take time to think, and started hitting Shawn in the face with the gun. Shawn fell to his knees, a small cry escaping as he brought his hands up to shield himself, but Donnie continued to hit him, blinded by his rage. Shawn, unable to hold himself up anymore, fell to the floor, his arms cradling his head, and Donnie began to kick him.
When Donnie finally stopped, Shawn was sobbing on the floor in the fetal position, his arms wrapped protectively around his head. "Eric..." Donnie said again, looking down at Shawn's form in disgust.
"It d-doesn't matter..." Shawn choked, his voice catching between sobs. He lowered his arms, but stayed on guard, and looked up at his assailant. "Th-the police... I c-called... They're comi-ing..." He swallowed, trying to push himself off of the floor.
"No, no, no..." Donnie said, putting his hands to his head once more. He looked completely lost, and scared without his brother, and Shawn found himself backing away as he mumbled to himself. "YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" he roared, pointing the gun at Shawn. Shawn stopped mid-crawl, and looked back up at Donnie. "The police are going to be here soon..." he said, his eyes darting around frantically. "We need to get out of here, don't we, Eric?" Donnie bent down to his brother, the gun still trained on Shawn as he spoke. "We can't let them catch us, and we have him," he motioned to Shawn with the gun. "They can't hurt us as long as we have him." He closed Eric's eyes and stood up, his attention turning back to Shawn. "No, I'll just have to kill you, quickly, before the police get here." He looked around the room, as if searching for something. "Don't go anywhere." He said to Shawn, and started walking towards the back of the garage.
Shawn stayed still a moment, still staring at Eric. He couldn't believe it. But, it had been an accident, right? They would forgive him, they had to. It wasn't his fault, and Eric had attacked him. He looked back and saw that Donnie was no longer in the room. Where had he gone? Shawn pushed himself to his feet, holding onto the table for support. He still didn't see Donnie, and started walking towards the door. Could he just leave? He was sure the police should have been here by now. And even though the road was abandoned, he would surely run into them. All he had to do was get outside.
Shawn stepped around Eric, trying not to look at him, and looked at the door. It had been so easy-there it was. The door, right in front of him, and nothing was stopping him from bursting outside. He broke into a run. He could feel his excitement, the hope swelling up inside of him. He was actually going to make it.
A loud 'BANG!' echoed through the room, and Shawn fell face-first to the floor, pain engulfing his right leg. He was so close. The door was right there. Shawn held his bleeding leg and looked back at Donnie, who was lowering his gun. "I told you not to fucking move." he said, walking closer to Shawn. "I told you." Shawn saw that he now carried a length of rope and a roll of duct tape in his other hand. Where had he gotten that from?
Donnie crouched next to Shawn, pressing the gun to the side of his head. "I told you." was all he said. He moved behind Shawn and dropped the rope at his side. He grabbed Shawn's hands and pulled them behind him. Shawn tried to struggle, but that only earned him a slap in the back of the head with the gun. He was dazed a moment, and Donnie took advantage of that, quickly binding Shawn's hands behind him with the duct tape.
When Donnie was satisfied, he grabbed the rope and stood up, walking back around to face Shawn, who was trembling, looking up at him with a horrified look on his face. "I've got the perfect idea." Donnie muttered, pointing the gun at Shawn again. Shawn was truly terrified now. Would the police make it in time? What was taking them so long? Donnie looked Shawn over, his gaze stopping at his hazel eyes, wide with terror. "Get up." He said, and Shawn thought for a minute he was joking. "Get up!" he barked again, the gun shaking in his tightened grip.
Shawn pushed himself to his feet, forcing himself to stand and putting most of his weight on his left leg. It was pure agony, and he tried to keep himself upright as Donnie motioned towards the back of the garage. "Walk." was all he said, and Shawn saw it now-there was a back door, slightly hidden by a rather hideous car. Shawn tried to move forward, but as soon as he put pressure on his leg, he crumbled to the floor with a sharp cry of pain. Donnie didn't seem impressed with his attempt, and instead grabbed him by his shirt collar and began dragging him to the back of the garage.
Shawn tried to stop himself being pulled, latching his feet on table legs and anything else he was dragged by, but Donnie only turned and hit him again until he let go. They were at the door in seconds-or so it seemed, and Donnie dragged him backwards through the open door, his eyes lying on Eric for the last time before he was dragged over the threshold and the door was slammed shut.
It was dark outside, but that didn't surprise Shawn in the slightest. What did was the huge tree that Donnie dropped him underneath. He was laying on his back, watching as Donnie walked to the tree and looped the rope over a low branch. "You caused my brother a lot of pain," Donnie was saying, but Shawn was sitting up now, moving away from the tree. "What did I say about staying put?" Donnie shouted, firing another round just to Shawn's left. Shawn jumped, instinctively moving to his right, and Donnie turned back to his work. "And you caused me a lot of pain." He continued. "That's why you're going to have a slow, horrible death. And once you're gone... Eric and me, we're gonna get out of here. We'll go someplace nice. Maybe Hawaii."
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Rhoda's was over half an hour away, even though Carlton was speeding. He feared what might've happened in the short time it took them to get there. Could Shawn be dead, already? No. He quickly dismissed that thought. There was no way. He glanced at Juliet, at his side. She was biting her lip in frustration, her pure terror evident, though she tried to hide it. She was thinking the same thing, Carlton realized. 'What if they didn't make it in time?' His eyes narrowed in determination, and he thought no more of it, and sped up even more.
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Henry's knuckles were turning white from his death grip on the steering wheel. Guster was sitting beside him, and hadn't said one word the entire time. He was looking out his window, but Henry knew where his thoughts lie. He was thinking the same thing, and he hoped that he was wrong, that when they reached the store, his worst fears weren't true. That his son wasn't... He couldn't even finish the thought. He pushed the idea as far back into his mind as possible and sped up as Lassiter's car did.
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At 3:15am six police cars pulled into the parking lot at Rhoda's, Henry's old truck not far behind them. Lassiter and Juliet were the first to arrive, already out of their vehicle and moving towards the store when the other cars pulled in.
Their weapons drawn, they approached the store. Lassiter grabbed the front door, opening it slowly. He moved through the dark store quickly, watching everything he passed. He noticed several cops following his lead, and Henry and Guster hanging back-though they obviously wanted to rush ahead and find Shawn.
He spotted the door in the back of the store with a red sign on it that said "Employees Only: Garage". Lassiter motioned for a few of the officers to continue searching the store, that he and Juliet were going to examine the garage.
Lassiter covered his eyes as the door was opened, the bright light inside lighting up the whole store, and walked cautiously inside. The body on the floor was the first thing he saw. It wasn't Shawn, but there was blood pooling around the person's head, and he walked nervously up to it. Juliet continued scanning the area while he checked the man's pulse, though he didn't need to. There was a small hole on his left side; a punctured lung, he thought. "He's dead." He confirmed, rising to his feet, and taking in the rest of the room.
There was obviously no one else there, and the place was a mess. There was an overturned chair nearby the dead man, there was tape on the legs and side, as if someone were restrained. There was more blood under the chair, and random specks in other places. A knife haphazardly thrown on the floor, covered in blood. And then there was a large trail of crimson that cut across the whole floor, and lead right outside the backdoor.
Henry and Guster had made their way into the room, and Henry was standing by a yellow car parked on the side, its trunk wide open. He had taken something out of it, and was holding it almost lovingly. Lassiter recognized it instantly, it was the jacket Shawn had been wearing the previous day, and it was covered in blood. "That's evidence, Spencer." Lassiter said, but Henry was ignoring him.
He turned back to the trail of blood, and then looked at Juliet. They made a silent agreement, and moved towards the back door. Lassiter placed his hand on the door knob, steeling himself as he turned it, pushing it open and raising his gun as he walked back outside.
His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, but it didn't take him long to see what was going on.
A man was standing at the base of a large tree, looking up at another man-Shawn, Lassiter instantly realized-who was hanging from a rope. Shawn's hands were behind his back, and his feet were kicking weakly while the rest of his body jerked desperately. The man looked at them right as the door opened, and he instantly raised his gun.
"Drop your weapon, and step away from Spencer." Lassiter barked, raising his own gun and pointing it at the man. Juliet was beside him, her gun also trained on the man, and she let out a small gasp as she saw Shawn.
"Can't do." The man called. "He killed my brother, and now, he's going to die."
Lassiter thought a moment. The man in the garage... Shawn had killed him? They were wasting time, valuable time which Lassiter knew Shawn didn't have, and he looked back up at the struggling man dangling from the tree. Shawn's movements were getting weaker every second. "One more time." Lassiter said, his voice betraying the look of confidence on his face. "Drop your weapon. Now. And move away from the victim."
The man scoffed. "I'm a victim, too." He said. "My brother's dead because of him." He motioned to Shawn with one hand. "And there's no way he's going to get off that easily. You can't stop me-" he had raised the gun back to Lassiter, and his finger was tightening on the trigger when a cloud of red exploded on his chest, and his hand went slack, the gun dropping as he said, in a surprised tone, "The fuck?" before falling to the ground.
Lassiter wasted no time, his aim quickly changing from the man to Shawn, and just above his head. He fired once-it was all he needed, and the rope above Shawn snapped and he fell the short distance to the ground. It was only a foot, and it was amazing how close he had been to being fine.
Lassiter rushed to his side, loosening the rope from around Shawn's neck and looking him over. He was covered in blood, both from being shot in his shoulder and in his leg. His face was covered in bruises and bleeding in some spots. Shawn started coughing, wheezing and trying to pull breath into his deprived lungs. He opened his eyes, realizing that someone was holding him, and looked up at Lassiter. He was shaking terribly, probably from shock, Lassiter thought. And then he realized something else. The other man was crying. Really, Shawn was crying.
"Lassie..." Was all Shawn said, his voice quivered as he spoke, tears running freely from his hazel eyes, and Lassiter had to look away. "Thanks."