Brandon Parker | TVD

Prologue

      Brandon Fishers was running. running for his life. Who in their right minds would do something this horrifying? Hours before, his younger sister was laughing in the car with him, but now she was currently laying 3 feet deep under the ground.

Running without taking a glance back might've been the biggest regret, but that didn't matter. The sick fuck that was currently chasing him down- having killed his sister didn't seem to be enough, and now he was next.

He was running with a weight on his back, guilt. tears streamed down his face. That didn't stop him though, and neither did the knife in his back. It was his childhood friend who was the cause of this. The psychotic Wesley Morin, the obsessive kid on the block everyone warned me about as a kid.

Brandon remembered questioning moments before, why had he stopped hanging out with the kid in the first place. But now, he remembered exactly why. The constant warnings from others, the multiple red flags, the dead animals, all those times on the train tracks, and so on.

Brandon just wanted to surprise his family about his arrival back in town, and he planned it well; he'd surprise his sister first then drive back to the house, and then he'd surprise his family with the help of his younger brother, Ethan, afterward, he'd eventually tell them that he had gotten engaged to his girlfriend that they knew nothing about... and it could've all worked out. Except it didn't.

Except Wesley was walking down the Highway just a few hours away from his house, and being the boy his mother raised to be kind and all- asked the guy if he needed a lift. the reply was an instant, "Yes,".

Kelsey told him to just keep on driving and leave the guy be. Except, Brandon being Brandon... insisted on giving the 'poor guy' a ride. He never thought of the possibility that something like this would occur, he thought he was simply picking up a hitchhiker, being a good person. 

Sweat traveled down the side of his head-- or was it blood? He wiped whatever it had been from his forehead, and hid behind a tree. 

I was almost there now... and all I wanted was to be at home. To wake up, like this had all just been one horrible fucking dream.

He could hear the leaves crinkle behind him, signaling that Wesley was close by. His heart was racing- beating out of his chest at this point. A panic attack was sure to happen, so he'd calm his breathing with a trick his dad taught him. Breathing heavily he knew it was a dead giveaway.

Fast footsteps crunched against the leaves that scattered the ground, the footsteps came towards him. Oh, how Brandon wished he wasn't right...

Wesley didn't utter a single word, but his breathing was heavy as he gripped Brandon by the collar of his shirt and threw him down to the ground. Hard. A grunt escaped him from the impact. 

Brandon, squinted his eyes shut at the immense pain he was feeling, he knew the knife had gone all the way through him. He groaned in pain, sat up enough, and he cradled his bleeding stomach.

Brandon widened his eyes in fear despite the tears of pain. He crawled backward on the freezing ground, ignoring his body's cry to just give up and quit. Wesley walked antagonizing-ly slow, eyeing him with a sinister look. He noticed how his lips curled into a smile- not one of those friendly smiles either. It was fucking evil. It disgusted him.

"Please," Brandon cried, still trying to get away from him.

 "We use to be friends. Remember that?" Wesley said, his voice cracking slightly. "But then you left me. And now, I'll leave you dead." He spat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" His eyes narrowed. "You killed my sister, you fucking stupid bastard!!" Brandon shouted tears glossing his eyes, 

There were many things that were flashing before his eyes as Wesley stood over him with that knife. In that moment, he knew that he was better off dead in that moment when he started remembering her screams. 

He had been so blinded with his fear, that he just stood there paralyzed as he watched Wesley throw his sister's dead corpse into that shallow grave. But then he remembered how happy she had been to see him the second they reunited. He remembered when they were younger and she would laugh her ass off when she watched horror movies-- to hide how scared and nervous it had made her.

Taking a deep breath, he couldn't help but break into a smile. And then he laughed, almost humorlessly. Wesley just stood there and watched him unamused, his face hardened, and he knelt down and quickly struck Brandon across his face. Only for blood to be spat in his face.

The beautiful thing was, Brandon had no idea what he was doing. His hand tried finding something to grip onto. And then finally it hit. His adrenaline kicked in with a vengeance and he was able to smash a rock against Wesley's head. This stunned Wesley, who fell to the ground.

Brandon knew he was all but defenseless...

But he had the next best thing.

"I bet there isn't a single person in your life who loves you." Brandon spoke into his ear. Wesley tried to get up, but I slammed the rock against his head once more.

Wesley's eyes darkened at the mention of this. He couldn't help but smile to himself, he had found a weak spot. "Who could ever love a psycho like you," Brandon taunted.

Wesley's hands balled into fists, the knuckles were covered in blood but you could still see the white tint from the pressure. Wesley gripped his knife as he got back up and he looked over at Brandon with a slightly noticeable frown on his face, and then Wesley pounced on him.

His nice guy act was now long overdue, anyways...

Wesley was filled with anger, and now it clouded his judgment. Brandon had him exactly where he wanted him and there was nothing that would stop him from finishing this. Didn't he know that actions had consequences? 

In this case, Wesley must die for what he's done-- he'd make sure of it.

Wesley lunged down at Brandon, who quickly turned onto his side on the last second, his hip was slashed and bleeding. And he was being hit with the immense pain so suddenly, but he still managed to pry the knife out of the psycho's hand. Just before plunging it right into Wesley's cold and now very dead heart. He ignored the look of pure shock that Wesley held as he looked down at the knife inside of him.

"That's for my little sister, fuckface." He spat, 

With any remaining strength he had left, he managed to push Wesley off of himself. Letting out a pained groaned as he held onto his bleeding stomach. Blood was leaking from his mouth now, and he ever so slowly began choking on the red metallic warmth in his mouth.

Brandon couldn't help but smile to himself.

 As he laid down on his back and looked up at the night skies.   

"Fuck..." He gargled. 

And then he shut his eyes for the final time.

Or, at least that's what he thought.

________________________

No words, no words...