A/N: And Chapter 28, the end of part 2, and onto part 3.
Also, as a mention to all the people that have kindly commented on this story... well, all I can say is thank you for your kind words.
Chapter 28
I was showered quickly, I couldn't enjoy it, I was under the impression that joy itself had been sucked from the world like oxygen in the vacuum of space.
Murder. I had committed cold blooded, complete and utter murder. Another human being was dead because of me. And what sent an eerie macabre feeling about me was that I didn't focus on that fact, I could hardly keep my mind off of Damien, if he was safe, if he was unharmed. Eric did not matter, Trent did not matter even Kenneth and Karen had slipped my mind, I was too focused on Damien.
As promptly as an executive on a tight schedule, I left the bathroom with naught but a towel around my waist; I found that the two bodies had been dragged away. A trail of blood led out of my front door, which was as closed as it could get while not having a significant portion of its framework. It must have been horrible for Kenneth to do; I made a mental note to thank him.
I realised how utterly lifeless and downright uncaring I was acting and the felling to scream like a lunatic returned. I suppressed it as well as I could, only a grumble escaped my lips.
I could hear Kenneth in my room, the door was open, he was consoling Karen, speaking softly to keep her own mind and his from the massacre. I was simply glad that she had not seen the blood, the brain matter, the death herself, she was lucky as all hell. I hardly noticed tears at my eyes. It was all getting to me, far too quickly for my liking, I had make sure Damien was ok first.
Just next to the bathroom door was a pile of folded clothes, my usual attire and a hoodie, another thing to thank Kenneth for. I left him to whisper his comfort words to Karen, dried myself and got dressed in the living room.
Hidden between my trousers and shirt was the .45, seeming unreal in my hands. It was what had killed Trent, blew a hole in his head and many in his chest, and it seemed like a toy to hold. Suddenly disgusted, I threw it onto my sofa. I had had enough of guns and death, I just wanted to make sure if Damien was ok, and then sleep. Sleep for days if I had to.
Trent and Eric were already dead, why would I need a gun anyway?
The shotgun was on the far side of the living room, resting against my bookshelf, the revolver was at its stock. I felt a pang of fear at how many weapons I had came to collect. I wanted to throw them out the window and dispose of them, so I could repress the memories.
'Why the hell did this have to happen?' I bitterly asked myself. But I knew the answer, because Trent or Eric or whoever it was wanted a thrill, or were just plain mad.
Frowning at my own answer, I gave a brief knock on my bedroom, told him Kenneth that I was off, and like that I left.
To the right of the door was where the blood trail led and at the far end of the hall was the two bodies, wrapped in sheets that were once white, now stained red. They were completely still, lying side-by-side but not as ill-fated partners in crime, only as partners in death.
'Had Eric even killed anyone?' I thought over that idea for a second, he wanted me to be his 'first' that meant that he had never done it before. Perhaps he had a history of killing cats and dogs, I would have been the first human, I finally figured out that not much was even known about Eric. Was he just a disturbed boy, angry at the world and out for revenge or had the jabs of his mother's sex habits sent him into a depression that spiralled so far as to make him so bloodthirsty? 'Either way,' I concluded, 'he's dead now… it can't be helped. It can't be helped, it can't be helped!' I wanted to shout, I did not. I would not.
It was not the same for Trent, in those first shotgun blasts he had proved that he was an unhinged psychopath; he had to have done it before.
Standing at their sides had shocked me out of my thoughts, I couldn't even remember taking the first step. Both were completely covered in the sheets, head to toe, or in the case of Trent, the fragments of his head. I could make out where they had been fatally wounded by the deeper drabs of red on the white sheets, dotted on the white like a morbid painting.
Tears stung at my eyes as I looked at the covered chest of Eric where the metalik deathly pellets had ended him but I quickly wiped them away. There was nothing I could have done, they were going to kill Kenneth and me; and then who would have known what they would have done to Karen? I feared with Trent at the forefront that rape might have even been an option for him. Even so, I felt myself fall to my knees and hold his cloth covered hand; it was cold, feeling-less and soft.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, pulling the hand to my chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" Before I could cry though, I gently placed the covered hand onto his chest, turned around, and left down the hall, in anger at myself, then down the stairs and out of the apartment.
The apartment complex was definitely empty, hardly anyone lived there before and anyone else would have shown himself or herself.
Through my walking, I wondered why, In over a month, had I not even gotten Damien's phone number, or even added him on any social media.
Why did I have to be a complete idiot at the worst possible time?
With a sigh and a trudge, I continued my journey.
The wind had started up again, a bitter pierce of a thousand throwing daggers that I promptly ignored. I had hardly registered the quick fall of snow on my cheeks and body. I was hardly registering anything, my mind was numb, my entire body was numb, I would only focus on getting to Damien, Kenneth was safe and all I had to do was ensure Damien was as well. All Damien and Damien was on my mind.
Soon the town would be covered in a white blanket that no one would clear. Would South Park be buried and ignored? Would it be forgotten and left to the cold?
Suddenly darkness came and the light was grey, the mountain loomed above and when I looked up, I saw that the sun was trapped behind it, falling to darkness. The great mountain, with its deadly peak and its hard, jagged stone edges that loomed overhead like a dark monument to years far gone to the past, many miles away but it had the illusion of being right in front of you, judging from above.
Throughout my walk, I felt it above, leaning as if it were alive to swoop and grab me in hard, rocky mouth.
I walked as fast as I could and arrived as fast as I could, Damian's house was not empty, the upstairs window was glowing with yellow light. Damien sat at the window, we registered each other quickly, our eyes locked and I felt as if I had gone back a month and were looking at him for the first time. Oh, how I wished I could have gone back then and not had to deal with my problems.
He quickly left the window and in a second the door was ripped open, the house behind him was pitch black. He had a wide smile and he ran out, suddenly hugging me.
"Jesus Christ thank god you're ok!" He muttered, "Dad hasn't came back for hours and you have no idea how worried I was for you. It's been so quiet." He let me go, "let's get you inside, ok?" I just complied.
We were in his bedroom fast, sitting on his large bed, the bright table lamp as brilliant as a star. I was finally comfortable, I felt safe close to Damien, safer than I had in hours.
"What happened? What's going on?" he suddenly asked, his crimson orbs wide and wondering. The recent grim events made me see those eyes as unknowing, almost childish, but I knew better, Damien was strong and world-weary.
"The mall was... It was shot up," I said at first, trying hard to keep my voice still. "Then everyone left and it was all quiet you… well, you know that," he nodded in understanding, eyeing with concern as my voice stuttered and haggard breath became prominent. Trying to stay on top of things, I continued my story, "then I went to get Kenneth and sister, then… then we went back to my apartment and then Trent, then Eric and… and. Then… then," I felt tears brim at my eyes and I let my scream come out, but not loud and furious but as a weak sob. It was a great catalyst though.
I do not know for how long I did cry but hours seemed to pass as I buried my head in Damien's shoulder, weeping like a child. Losing air as I tried to breathe more, only to exhale it in pathetic whimpers and cries, his shoulder must have seemed like a cup had been poured on it.
In a second, when I had slightly recovered, he gripped onto my chin and gently moved my head so that I was staring into his hypnotic, brilliant eyes.
Slowly he stroked my cheek with his thumb, "it's gonna be fine Phillip, ok. It's gonna be fine." And like that, as if he had seen a spark of acceptance in my eyes, he moved his lips so that they pressed against mine and I could not move. I didn't want to move, I didn't have the energy.
When he released his lips he just looked at my own dull blue orbs, but his eyes spoke volumes, "I love you Phillip" is what they said, and then tentatively kissed me once more, I only complied, wishing comfort and not questioning why.
We made love that night, pleasurable, beautiful fantastic love and I slept peacefully, and finally somewhat happy, but I knew that something worse waited. Something worse than Eric, worse than Trent, worse than anything I had ever thought of. Even though I slept peacefully, a nightmare was just on the borders, waiting to invade.
