Chapter Three

Dave had falled asleep after talking with Rose. He woke up and looked at his digital clock. It was 9:30. Dave sat up, rubbing his eyes before putting on his shades.

He looked own at his phone, noticing it was blinking. Dave picked up his phone and flipped it open. He clicked on the pesterchum app, seeing that he had an unread message from John. As he read it, he furrowed his eyebrows.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: hey asshole. just wanted to see how your day is going. made out with any boys lately, you fag? been jacking off to gay porn? of course you have. fucking homo. you think you're so cool with your stupid fucking 'sick fires'. ha! you can't even rap. who the fuck are you to think you're fucking awesome? you are NOTHING! fuck you, dave. i never even LIKED you! i used you to get rose and jade. WHO COULD FUCKING LIKE /YOU/? fuck, you're just a poser. just get the fuck out of my life, faggot!

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Dave clutched onto his phone, a low growl escaping his mouth. "Egbert...is...dead!" Throwing his phone to the ground, he grabbed his jacked and sprinted out of his house.

John eventually untied himself, having trouble standing straight because of the blood loss. His wrists were burning red from the rope. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, cleaning up the dried up blood. It had stopped bleeding, so he didn't bother to bandage it. His eyes watered as he made out the word on him. He couldn't fucking believe how cruel they were. When he was all cleaned up, he walked back into his room, putting on a clean shirt and throwing on his sweater.

John made his way down the stairs, pulling his hood over his head. He slumped onto the couch, bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. He rest his head on his knees, flipping through the channels on his t.v.

After a while, John's door swung open, hitting the wall and leaving a dent. Standing in the doorway was Dave, face read with anger. John jumped, holding onto his hood. Low growls came from Dave's throat, making John's heart race with fear.

Dave stomped towards him, picking him up from the couch with one had, holding him from the collar. He pulled him close, close enough fro their noses to touch.

"Listen here, Egbert. I don't give a fuck if you call me a faggot. But when you trash my sick fires, then shit is going down!" John gulped.

"B-but I didn't..."

"Bullshit! I saw that message you sent me!" Dave was now holding onto John's collar with both hands. "You're fucking dead Egbert! You...will...pay..." John could barely breathe. He was terrified.

"W-what are you gonna..." He couldn't finish his sentence beofre Dave threw him with as much force as he could. John flew across the room, hitting the wall. A shooting pain went up and down his back and right arm as he hit the floor.

Dave ran over before John had a chance to get up. He kicked him multiple times in the gut until John cried out a faint, "Stop!" Dave stopped, glaring down at the whimpering boy. John rolled on to his stomach, lifting himself to his hands and knees and began coughing. His sweater and shirt moved up a bit, showing his lower back (stomach facing the ground).

Drops of blood fell from John's stomach with each cough, staining his white carpet. Dave's fists slowly started to unclench, his limbs becoming limp as he dropped to his knees. His eyes widened as he watched three drops of blood hit the floor.

"Oh...oh my god, John I...I'm so." Dave covered his face with his hands, softly sobbing into them. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly. John sat himself up against the wall, groaning a little.

"I-it's not your fault," he said painfully. Dave uncovered his face and looked at John, then down to the open wound. He quickly got up and ran into the bathroom to get the first aid kit. When he returned, he poured some disinfectant on a wash cloth and knelt next to John.

He carefully davved the wound. John winced from the sting, taking deep breaths, groaning. Once the blood was washed off, Dave read the carved word on John's skin. His eyes widened again as he whispered, "Fagbert?"

He looked up at John, back down to the scar, then back at John. He could tell that this was not his doing. "John," he said. "Who did this to you?"

John took some deep breaths, trying to forget about the pain. With one last breath, he finally said, "Jessica."