karma → 5sos au

2.4

It was so dark. The smell was overpowering.

Bryana realised she'd been holding her breath. Now she let it out in a loud gasp.

"Why did you kill me, Bryana? Look - I'm still bleeding."

He held up his shirt. The wound was large and dark.

"Luke - I didn't mean - " She looked up for an escape route, but he had backed her up against the front door.

She looked away. She couldn't bear to look at the empty eye socket, at his sagging, crumbling skin, at the gaping, dark wound in his chest.

Even in the blackness of the night he looked terrifying.

"Why did you kill me?" he repeated, his voice so weak she could barely hear him, the words floating out over his toothless gums.

"Help! Somebody help!" she screamed at the top of her voice, and started to run, her sneakers slipping on the hard, wet ground.

"Don't run! It was so hard to come back!" Luke cried. He was right behind her.

"No! Go away! Go away!"

"I went away, Bryana. But I came back."

He grabbed her shoulder. Then his hand slide down and he tackled her around the waist.

They both tumbled to the cold ground. He landed on top of her and pressed her into the dirt.

"No!" she screamed.

She was about to scream again, but she stopped.

"Hey - " she said, pushing him hard, trying to shove him off her. "I can touch you." She grabbed his arm. "You're solid." He was breathing hard from the short chase. She reached up and touched his face. She pulled off a chunk of plastic makeup. "You creep! You're not dead! This is still part of your grisly joke!"

A broad, toothless smile formed on his face. "You're right," he said in his normal voice. "I'm alive," he added. "But the joke is over."

"Get off me! It's cold down here. And you're ruining my coat!"

"The joke is over, Bryana."

"Did you hear me? Get off! What do you think you're doing? Ugh, you stink."

She struggled to climb out from underneath him, but he was too strong.

"The joke is over," he repeated.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a switchblade knife and flicked open the blade.

"Luke - put that down!" she screamed.

The porch light came on. He looked even more gruesome in the shadowy yellow light.

And he looked angry.

"The knife is real," Luke said, staring down at her, holding the knife in front of her face. "It's real like me."

"Luke - "

"It's not fake this time. It's not a retractable stage knife."

"Luke - please!" Bryana cried. "What do you want?"

"I want to show you that the knife is real," he said, bringing it down quickly.

He plunged the knife back into the dirt beside her head.

He was only trying to scare her.

"See?" he said, still breathing hard. "It's real. A real knife."

With a burst of strength she shoved him off and struggled to her feet. He regained his balance and quickly stood beside her.

"Why, Luke?" she asked, watching the knife in his hand. "Why are you doing this?"

He turned away, and looked up to the front stoop. The porch light had come on, but the door was still closed. When he turned back to her, his face was filled with hatred.

"Why? Because you didn't care about me." He angrily pulled off the phony eye socket.

"But, Luke - "

"I loved you, Bryana." His voice broke on the word 'love.' "You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I cared about you so much. And then . . ." He looked down at the knife.

"I cared about you, too," Bryana said. But it didn't sound convincing even to her.

"Then when I fell off that cliff, you didn't care if I lived or died."

"Is that what Michael told you?" Bryana asked quickly. "Well it's a lie, Luke. It's not true. I - "

"I know what a lie is, Bryana," Luke snapped. "And it is true!" he screamed, his dark eyes burning into hers. "You can't lie to me anymore, Bryana. You didn't care whether I lived or died that night. And then when Michael came to see you in the hospital - "

"I was totally drugged in the hospital!" Bryana cried. "I was hurt too, you know. When Michael came to see me - "

"He told you I was dead, and you didn't even react."

"I was drugged. I wasn't myself, Luke. I cried for days," she lied.

He laughed, a bitter laugh. "It's no good, Bryana. It's no good. When you stuck that knife in me last Sunday, I died a second time, and you still didn't care."

"I was so upset - "

"You just wanted my body out of the way. That's all you cared about. I was just some mess to clear away. So you and your rich boyfriend wouldn't have your lives disturbed."

"Michael is behind this, isn't he?" Bryana asked, looking to her car.

It was so close but so far away . . .

If she could just get into the car and lock the doors . . .

"This is all Michael's idea, isn't it, Luke?"

He shook his head. He flicked the knife blade in and out nervously, staring hard at her all the while, his breath coming out in small, gray puffs.

"Mikey helped me. That's all," he said softly. "Michael helped. But I don't need help now."

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"

She looked to the house. Why didn't the door open? Why didn't someone come rushing out to save her?

Couldn't they hear all the yelling out here?

He took a step toward her. "I'm not going to die a third time," he said, his voice without expression, flat and calm now.

Insanely calm, she thought.

He's crazy. Luke is truly crazy.

"I'm not going to die again," he said. "It's your turn now!"

She backed toward the drive.

He raised the knife and lunged at her.

"No!"

He stumbled over the smooth stone at the end of the walk, the same stone Bryana had stumbled over before.

Jess's family should really move that, she thought.

The knife bounced out of his hand and stopped at Bryana's heel. She bent over quickly and picked it up.

"You're wrong, Luke," she said. "It's your turn again!"

-

one part left (;