|Eight|

•Week Six• (3)

(why must I write cringey angst? It's not fair bro 😔)

I fidgeted, trying to slow my racing heart. I was so fucking scared.
I stared at the TV, colors and sounds mixing together as my mind continued to blur with thoughts, all of them pointing out how Jack knows. He knows what I've done.

But how? Was I really that bad at being a murderer?

I was too scared to look back at him, but somehow, I could feel his eyes on me throughout the rest of the movie.
I self-consciously scooted away from Ryan (who was sitting inbetween us), and I tried to move my hand to press on my stab wound. All my anxiety and fear was making the pain worse, and now my stab wound felt unbearable. I had to deal with it, though. I didn't want to risk leaving and making myself look more suspicious.

If Jack knew, why did he lie to Ryan for me? Am I just paranoid? Did he actually have no clue what I've been doing?

No, he definitely did. Despite popular belief, Jack wasn't stupid. He was a chaotic idiot, but he wasn't stupid.
I knew they'd figure it out eventually, but I didn't want that time to come right now. I didn't want to lose them, but since Jack knew, he'd most likely tell Ryan and then they'd hate me even more. This was inevitable, them disowning me was inevitable.

But I didn't want to leave them.

Fucking god, am I really that selfish? They need a healthy life, and I'm a murderer. They'd never be able to truly be happy if I don't let them go.

But it hurts, it hurts so much. I'd be all  alone, they were all I had. I need them.

How could I have messed up this badly? Why did I let the knives and blood control me? I chose murder over Jack and Ryan, and that decision would haunt me for the rest of my life.

A jolt ran through my body when Ryan tapped my shoulder. He laughed at my startled expression, oblivious to what was happening. That was good, Ryan shouldn't have to deal with all of this just yet.
I smiled, his laugh was contagious and it really brightened the atmosphere. Jack, however, didn't look happy. His expression was stone-cold, and he was staring right at me, almost glaring.

I had to try and convince him I hadn't done anything, and the perfect way to do that was to play dumb. Act confused, tell him I took long because I got side-tracked by my phone or something, tell him I hadn't been leaving the apartment. Lie to him, lie to him about everything that's happened.

He'd believe me, right?

Jack's expression turned from cold to sad in the blink of an eye, and for the first time in several minutes, his eyes left me.
I let out a breath, finally relaxing a little. But still, I felt guilty.

They'd find out the truth eventually, but for now, I'll lie to them. I'll keep them close until I'm inevitably forced to let them go.

~

When the movie ended, I quickly left the room, taking a deep breath once I was by myself again. I felt like I was suffocating, drowning in my regret and guilt.

Why was murder so addictive but so horrible?

I had to get the knife away, I had to stop fueling my murderous thoughts. It was either murder or my brothers.

I chose Jack and Ryan, and it was horrifying because it was actually difficult to choose for some reason. It shouldn't have been hard, but it was.
I had actually considered leaving Jack and Ryan just so I could kill some random, useless person again. What was happening to me? I hate what I've become.
I'm not the older brother I promised them I'd be, and realizing that was what hurt the absolute most.