Just a warning…this chapter has some pretty graphic violence in it.

Xxxxxxx

When Mike Mizanon was sixteen years old, he found out what the true meaning of love was. Well, at least his kind of love. Which some people might have called obsession but Mike was never one to care what other people thought of him, at least not up until he met Adam Copeland.

High school was an eye opening experience for Mike. He learned about obsession and he learned about betrayal. When he had moved, his greatest worry had been losing touch with John. John was his best friend and Mike had fought tooth and nail against his parents about the move. He was so sure that he would die without John there every day.

John had been his first friend, his best friend. If Mike had ever gone to see a psychiatrist, he might have been told that his parent's detached neglect during his childhood could have accounted for his later clinginess. But Mike had also never been one to overanalyze his own actions.

His depression over the prospect of losing John had only been lessened by meeting Adam. He became instantly attached to the other boy. Adam was funny and smart and so damned beautiful. Mike loved him from day one.

He kept his feelings to himself, cultivating a friendship with Adam first. A friendship that he had cherished the same way he had with John. He was sure that he and Adam were meant to be together, that it would happen no matter what.

So, he was both surprised and devastated when he caught Adam in the arms of another boy. Mike had clenched his fists so hard, his nails had dug into his skin while he watched Randy Orton kiss Adam, while he watched Randy's hands roam to places they weren't meant to go.

That was the start of his hatred for Randy. It simmered beneath the surface every time he looked into the other boy's gray eyes. Randy was touching things that didn't belong to him. Mike hated him for it.

However, he was still convinced that he and Adam could overcome this. Randy was just a minor obstacle. One that wouldn't matter in the long run. Finally, Mike got up the courage to tell Adam all of this, and that was when it had all went to Hell. That was when he'd made the mistake.

Adam had pushed him away, told him that he loved Randy, told him that they were planning on coming out after graduation. Mike had lost himself then. All he could see was Randy's hands trailing over Adam's abdomen, all he could feel was hatred towards him, anger towards Adam for not seeing the truth.

He didn't remember it afterwards. One minute, he was listening to Adam tell him how much he loved Randy, the next he was standing over Adam's body, a bloody kitchen knife in one shaking hand.

He hadn't dropped the knife until he had gotten home. The fact that it was nearing three o'clock in the morning was probably the only reason he had gotten home without someone seeing it or the blood staining his shirt.

He'd puked until he had nothing left…and then he'd cleaned himself up, burned his clothes and got rid of the knife. All the while, he was convincing himself that it was all Randy's fault. If Randy hadn't taken things he shouldn't have, if he hadn't forced Adam into something that wasn't good for him, none of this would have happened.

He ignored the tiny little voice in his head that accused him. Ignored the visions of himself covered in Adam's blood with that knife in his hand.

It was easy to convince everyone else too. Even Justin, Randy's best friend, believed it. It had to be Randy's fault. Adam was dead because of Randy. Everyone had to know that. And they did. Finally, everyone saw Randy for what he really was.

Mike found himself being happy again when John called him. John had been injured on the field, John couldn't play anymore. Mike had convinced him to come live with him.

He was happy, until he caught John coming out of Randy's apartment with a smile on his face. As soon as he saw it, that simmering anger boiled over into the same rage that had caused the death of Adam Copeland.

The hatred came back. This time, though, Mike wouldn't make any mistakes. This time, Mike would do what he should have done the first time around. He would make the person guilty pay.

Xxxxxxxx

For a full minute, Randy stopped breathing. He and Justin stood side by side, staring in horror at Mike and John. John's blue eyes were wide as well, the shock on his face clear.

"Mike-"

"Shut up!" Mike yelled. "I know what you did." He swung the shotgun up, holding it steady and pointed at Randy's chest. "This is your fault."

"Mike, don't." John's voice was pleading. "I didn't do anything, alright?"

"Don't lie, John. I know. I know how he is. He did the same with Adam…"

"You killed Adam." Justin choked the words out.

"No, he did!" Mike jabbed the barrel of the gun towards Randy. There were unshed tears in his eyes. "You took him away from me and now you're doing it again."

John took a cautious step towards him. "Mike, he's not-"

This time, Mike cut him off by swinging the gun around, connecting the butt to the side of John's head. Randy cried out as John fell and ran to his side. Tears stung his eyes as he put his hands on the sides of John's face. He was unconscious, of course. When Randy looked up, he found himself staring down the barrel of the shotgun again.

"Get up," Mike ordered in a barely controlled voice.

"You hurt him," Randy said, although he did comply with Mike's wishes, standing and moving away from John. If Mike did decide to shoot, he didn't want John to get hit.

"Shut up."

"You killed Adam." Randy was hardly able to control his voice as well.

"No, you did!"

"I'm not the one who took a knife to his chest," Randy countered. "I'm not the one who stabbed him nine times. I'm not the one who knocked John out!"

"Shut up!" Mike yelled. A few tears did escape and Randy saw the brief flash of guilt in his eyes. Mike had had seven years to pull the trigger on him. Randy was hoping that meant that he wouldn't.

"You murdered Adam. You killed someone you loved. It wasn't me."

"Stop."

"Adam's blood is on your hands, Mike! I hate you for it! I hope he does too!"

"John'll hate you too," Justin spoke up suddenly. He stepped up beside Randy. "Everyone will hate you. Like they hated Randy. No matter what you do now, everyone will know and everyone will hate you for it."

Randy could see the moment when Mike faltered. Mike's eyes went blank then and he turned his gaze briefly on John before fixing it back on Randy.

"You're right."

He turned his back on Randy and Justin and before either man could react, flipped the shotgun so that it was pointed at his own chest and pulled the trigger. The recoil caused him to lose his grip on it and the barrel swung upwards as it went off. Unfortunately, it didn't swing up enough to miss Mike completely.

Instead of hitting him in the chest, he took the shot in the face. Mike's head disappeared in a spray of blood and brain. Randy and Justin both flinched violently when they were splattered with the mess.

Justin's knees immediately gave out and he sat on the floor, his own eyes going blank. His arms went to wrap around his stomach and he began to rock backwards and forth.

Randy fell to his knees and retched until he was dry heaving. He couldn't stop and couldn't suck in a breath. Black invaded his vision while his stomach continued to rebel. His arms trembled violently in their effort to hold him up.

Finally, he collapsed, right into the mess he'd made. The last thing he saw before the world went dark on him was the bloody mess where Mike's head used to be.