Title: Love's Lost
Rating: M, for suicide
Plot: What was happening at the motel right before Holden's suicide?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except for the officer at the motel.
Review notes: I don't appreciate flames. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but if you think my story is beyond repair, and no amount of suggestions will help me ever, click the back button instead of wasting your time saying "uhh this sotry sux+ ur mum is fat so fcuk of and dye". If you have an account, would you do me the kindness of logging in so I can check out your stories and return the favour? Thank you!

Now, after all that nonsense, let's get down to the story!


Holden was a very disturbed person. Yet, when he was with her, he felt an odd sense of calm. As if everything was right and his parents didn't hate him. That's why he couldn't stand to share her with her husband. He wanted to keep his little piece of sanity to himself. No one else could take that away from him. Except Phil. He developed many plans on how to get rid of him so that Justine was all his. But, of course, although Justine hated her marriage, she couldn't let Holden kill her husband.

On the day Justine and him had planned to run away, he was counting down the hours until she arrived. As the noon grew closer and closer, he began to panic. Why wasn't she here? He contemplated calling her at work just to check that she hadn't chickened out, but he was wanted for theft, he couldn't call the place he'd robbed. Instead, he took to spinning the gun around his forefinger, clicking the safety on and off.

Suddenly, he heard the wail of sirens. The police broke down his door, and told him to remain calm.

"Where's Justine? Where the fuck is Justine?" He spun around, seeing if she was buried among the policemen.

"Calm down, we don't want to resort to violence," the sheriff said, nervously reaching for his gun.

"If she's not here, I swear to God I'll kill myself," Holden said, picking up his gun.

"Sir, we ask that you do not use the gun. Sir!" Holden was unlocking the safety.

"Where's Justine?" He looked around at everyone. "Justine Last! Blue eyes, blonde hair, beautiful smile..." Desperation filled his eyes as he looked in every corner. The sheriff shook his head.

"Son, I'm afraid Miss Last isn't here." Holden looked, fear in his eyes.

"No. No, no, she's here, you're hiding her. Why are you hiding the girl I love?" The sheriff looked around nervously.

"We're going to have to ask you to step outside." Holden's eyes opened wide in fear.

"No! No!"

"Sir, please remain calm." Holden shook his head, backing himself into a corner.

"If she doesn't appear in five seconds, I'll pull the trigger and..."

"Mr. Worther, please calm down."

"Five."

"Mr. Worther, violence won't get you anywhere."

"Three."

"She's not here, son."

"One."

The sheriff backed away quickly, and heard the shot fire. But nothing happened, he was fine. No gaping wound. Then he looked at the bed. The lifeless form of Holden Worther laid there, blood seeping onto the floral polyester cover.

"Oh, shit," he murmured. The owner of the motel ran in, complaining about the amount it'll cost to dry clean the stain.

"Get me an ambulance," someone shouted.

"It's too late!" the sheriff yelled. "Someone find information on him. Call his parents, tell them what happened."

"His social security card says "Thomas", Mark," an officer said, producing the card.

"Look for a Tom Worther. Call his parents, ask if they have a son called Tom. We need to get this information down."

More people arrived at the scene, the local news station pulled outside the hotel room just as the paramedics were about to remove Holden's body. Sirens wailing, people shouting, cameras flashing; it was total mayhem.