Okay, guys. BIG apology! I took long again. Not as long as last time though. And I can make up for it. I have the next 3 chapters ready, it's just a question of typing them up….. but hopefully I have lots of time on my hands the next few days…. Anyway, I really like this chapter. Just 1 thing. My knowledge of medical science is VERY limited, so if something sounds unrealistic. Sorry. Anyway, enjoy this chappie :D

I don't own gone. MG does. And im fuming with green fire of jealousy. :/

Chapter 7

Drake couldn't sleep. Again. Why did this happen so often? His dreams about Diana had stopped, thank god. But instead he was now probably an insomniac. All he did was lay there and stare at the ceiling. He didn't even think about anything, just lay there. And it frustrated him till no end.

He even considered stealing some of Caine's sleeping pills, those things were strong, would knock anyone out like a rock for ten hours straight. And knock anyone out like a rock was almost literal, you could blare Rebecca Black's 'Friday' in the persons ear at full volume and they wouldn't even wake up.

But instead, he would just grab the knife he hid under his mattress and sit back against the wall and stare at it. He loved the way the steel caught the moonlight. It made blinking and shiny reflections on the ceiling. He would sit and stare at it for hours, imagining all the sick, sadistic things he could do to people, hear their pleading screams. He once thought about doing the same thing with his gun, but decided against it. He wouldn't want it to go off by accident and wake half the school.

Sometimes he would grab his Ipod and listen to some some Slipknot or Skillet.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He pulled the red Ipod out of his desk drawer and fished his headphones out of his bag.

He plugged the headphones in, layed back on his bed and hit 'shuffle'.

The first random song was by Good Charlotte, some whiny emo band. Drake wasn't particularly crazy about them, but was tolerant, so he let the song play.

But the world is black

And hearts are cold

There's no hope

That's what we're told

"No shit."

And we can't go back

It won't be the same

"God, that's depressing."

Drake skipped the song.

Yellow, by Coldplay.

"How the fuck is this even on here!"

Skipped again.

, by the Killers.

"Fuck." Drake cursed his ipod for all these damn gay, sappy pieces of shit songs. But he decided to let this song play.

But it's all in my head

And she's touching his chest, now

He takes off her dress, now

Let me go

"Didn't know you got porn songs." But Drake let it carry on.

Then he listened to it again.

And again.

Drake didn't like the song, but it was interesting, well, the lyrics at least. He figured it was this guy who was jealous about his girl being with someone else. But he was also sad, because the guy she was with was an asshole. She was with the wrong guy.

With the wrong guy.

"Shit."

Diana isn't with me! Ever. Or maybe…fuck! This is the damn most frustrating…. Dammit! Fuck! Ugh… stop fighting it. Just admit it and you'll feel better you douche. No! come on, you shoukdnt lie to yourself, it's unhealthy. Fine! I have feelings for her! I said it! Now fuck off!

He's skitzo, he couldn't believe he was arguing with himself. It's so retarded.

Hehehehehe. I knew I could make you say it….

Drake sat up. He was sick of this shit. Stupid Diana. That bitch wouldn't get out of his head. He needed a distraction.

The song on his Ipod changed.

Scar tissue that I wish you saw,

Sarcastic mister know-it-all,

Sarcastic mister know-it-all…

Drake pulled the headphones off, without stopping the music.

He grabbed his knife from its hiding place and silently crept across the room to where Caine was sleeping restlessly.

Drake brought his lips to Caine's ear. "I'm not the wrong guy. Diana certainly doesn't think so, she has feelings for me, I'm not stupid."

Caine mumbled a little, but didn't wake.

"You're a Sarcastic Mr. Know-it-All. Conceited and arrogant too."

Drake was kneeling on the floor, facing the slumbering teen.

Drake very gently pulled Caine's arm off the bed.

He made sure he was doing this the right way round. He stared at the white, clear skin on the inside of Caine's arm, studied it.

The moonlight coming in from the window provided just the right amount of light for this job.

Drake brought the knife up to Caine's smooth skin. He made sure to get just the right pressure, hard enough to puncture the skin, but not hard enough to wake Caine up.

Drake made the first stroke, immediately blood flooded the surface of Caine's skin.

The moonlight bleached the colour out of everything, so that the black appeared a sickly black colour, it started dripping down Caine's arm and into his limp hand, trickling to the floor, staining the beige carpet with scarlet water.

While Drake worked, he made plans to make sure it looked like Caine had done this to himself.

When Drake was finished, he carried the knife into the bathroom, being careful not to spill anymore blood behind him.

He rinsed the knife off under the tap and wiped it off with some toilet paper. He went and stuffed it back under his mattress.

He very quickly pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers and walked out the room very quietly and into the hallway.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, 03.20. good, everyone asleep.

He padded across to the staircase and went downstairs to the kitchen.

They never locked the doors at night anyway, why would a bunch of lazy juvenile criminals want to get up in the middle of the night anyway? Actually, wait….. okay. But they still didn't lock the doors.

Drake went over to the huge counter in the middle of the tiled space and pulled a small kitchen knife out of one of the drawers and went back upstairs to his room.

He let some of Caine's blood drip onto the blade. Then he smeared it around a bit and placed the weapon into Caine's left hand.

He hoped the stupid fuckers would believe that had done this to himself.

Drake washed his hands, pulled his jeans off and climbed back into bed. His Ipod was still playing music. He put the headphones back on.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time again, then finally looked at Caine's arm.

The bloody letters were spilling little red gems down onto the carpet still. There was so much blood, the word was almost invisible, but Drake saw it. He couldn't help but gloat to himself a bit about how beautifully the D was done.

He stared at the name for who knows how long, until he eventually fell asleep with the word burned into the inside of his eyelids.

DIANA…