Hedon

Hedon - Chapter 7

  "Caston what the fuck happened?"
  Silence. Caston couldn't even take the time to admire Malachi's sleepy appearance. He couldn't peel his eyes way from his blood covered hands.
  Oh he fucked up. He fucked up bad.
  "Caston whose blood is that!?" Malachi's voice was hushed due to the hour of the night, but was still backed by panic.
  Caston laughed and looked up at Malachi, feeling the dried blood on his face.
  Malachi quietly latched the door behind him. "CASTON FUCKING ANSWER ME! WHOSE BLOOD IS THAT!?" Malachi's stomach twisted in a way he didn't fully recognize.
  Caston let out another choked laugh, the image of his bloody face something of a nightmare.
  Malachi shoved Caston harshly. "Caston, you're scaring the shit out of me! What the fuck happened!?"
  Malachi was being as loud and panicked as he could without his voice echoing throughout the quiet neighborhood.
  Caston reached forward and grabbed the front of Malachi's white t-shirt. "Don't push me away."
  "I...I can feel things, Malachi." Caston looked up, a smile on his face. "You made me feel things, Malachi! THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT, MALACHI!" Caston punched Malachi's, now blood covered, chest. "Before you, I felt nothing!! Fucking nothing! And I fucking hate you for changing me! I fucking hate that I want you Malachi!"
  "Caston, calm down."
  "No! I won't calm down! All I want is to fucking kill people! I want to kill people, Malachi. Because it's the only thing that makes me feel even slightly the way that you do." Caston's voice was softer now, but still hard for Malachi to decipher.
  "It's...it's okay." Malachi brought a thrashing Caston into a rough hug.
  Caston resumed his angry laughter, attempting to punch Malachi's chest within his tight hold.
  "Shh..it's okay. Deep breaths." Malachi's voice shook slightly, his eyes unable to blink.
  "Is that your blood, Caston?" Malachi asked calmly, his voice still unsteady.
  "No." Caston's voice was cushioned by Malachi's chest. Malachi's grip ever so slightly loosened, but he didn't dare to back away from Caston.
  "It's not mine, Malachi." Caston repeated, his tone unidentifiable.
  "It's okay...whose..whose is it?" Malachi's question was met with silence again. "Cas, I can't help you if you don't answer me. Whose blood is that?"
  "It's okay." Caston leaned up, smiling weakly. "It's okay. He wanted to die, Mal."
  "Who wanted to die?" Malachi held Caston's biceps loosely.
  "It's alright. He's happy now it's okay. He asked me to do it, Malachi. He asked me in a way."
  "Who?" Malachi was trying to have patience, but his hands were shaking more with each passing second.
  "I don't know." Caston shrugged. "His name his name was..Oliver. He- we met earlier. We hooked up and he told me he wanted to die. He didn't want to live, Malachi. I helped him, right?"
  Malachi was trying to find words. His hands were shaking around Caston's arms. His heart was thumping heavily in his chest. His stomach felt like it was full of fireworks.
  "Where is he?" Malachi managed to pick three words out of the millions that were floating around in his head.
  "The motel."
  "Where's the key?" Malachi asked.
  "What key?"
  "The motel key, Caston. Where is it?"
  Caston shoved his hand into his front pocket and retrieved the key. Malachi grabbed it and stepped inside the door, grabbing a pair of shoes. He closed the front door quietly and slipped his shoes on.
  "What are you doing?"
  "You said you needed my help. I'm helping you. Let's go." Malachi stepped off of the porch and grabbed Caston's hand, as he hadn't moved since they separated.
  "Where are we going?" Caston asked as they passed his poorly parked motorcycle.
  "Your motorcycle is loud as fuck when it starts, Caston. We're taking my car." Malachi said, opening the passenger door.
  Caston climbed in, the blood on his hands dried enough to not stain the interior of Malachi's truck like it had done to his t-shirt. Malachi got in and pushed the key into the ignition with a shaking hand.

  Nothing could've prepared Malachi for the scene beyond the battered motel room door.
  His arms felt weak and he could feel the contents of his stomach slowly trying to crawl up his throat.
  The bed was covered in blood, the white sheets now forever stained with crimson. A lifeless boy was laying across the bed, both hands placed over his stomach and covered in blood, much like Caston's. The only article of clothing on his body was a pair of underwear
  Oliver. Malachi remembered. Oliver had gentle features, all of them paled and covered in blood. He looked young.
  Malachi's eyes scanned up and down his body, his heart dropping when he counted 5 visible stab wounds. He felt a sick feeling rising in his throat again as he stared at Oliver's body too long.
  Caston was standing motionless in front of the bed, staring down at Oliver.
  As much as Malachi was unnerved by the gore of the scene, he had to do something.
  "Caston. We have to move. Fast." Malachi reluctantly stepped closer to the bed.
  "Put him under the sheets. Quickly."
  Caston stepped forward and pushed Oliver's body to the center of the bed. He then pulled the sheets and comforter up to his neck.
  Malachi moved in a hectic manner around the room, tossing Oliver's clothes into a pile and removing any trace of Caston.
  "Cigarettes. Do you have cigarettes?" Malachi asked.
  "In my motorcycle."
  "Damn it." Malachi huffed, then rushed to the old fashioned TV. He unplugged the chord from the wall, took his keys from his pocket and used the pocket knife to strip the wire. Quickly and ever so carefully, he plugged it back into the wall.
  "Ooh I found one in my pocket." Caston said, holding the stick out. "Good thinking."
  He grabbed his lighter and lit the end of the cigarette, taking a long drag.
  "Well, now we need a new plan." Malachi rolled his eyes.
  "Oh my bad. Were you gonna use it for something?" Caston spoke around the stick.
  "Yeah. I was gonna make it look like he fell asleep smoking and set fire to the room." Malachi huffed.
  "What if they found him before he burned up? They would see the wounds then." Caston inhaled more smoke.
  "I...good point, I guess." Malachi sighed. "Okay so..plan B. Wrap him up in the sheets."
  "He's already in the sheets?" Caston gestured to Oliver with his cigarette.
  "Wrap him up in them, Caston. Like a fucking mummy."
  "Ohh my bad." Caston chuckled, walking over to the bed and doing just that.
  Malachi left the room suddenly, returning in a hurry with three bottles in his hands.
  "Where'd you get those?" Caston asked, Oliver now fully wrapped and unidentifiable in the blood stained sheets.
  "They were yours, remember? I hid them in my car. Now dump one of these on the bed." Malachi held a bottle out to Caston.
  "What are we doing?"
  "We're gonna burn this room to the fucking ground."
  "Why the alcohol, though? I'm sure it'll burn up just fine on its own." Caston furrowed his eyebrows.
  "Precautionary measure." Malachi shrugged, tossing alcohol onto the places he planned to use the lighter. "And I need to get rid of it."
  "You could just drink it, you know." Caston chuckled, opening the bottle and taking a drink.
  Malachi rolled his eyes. "Just dump it out. We have to get moving."
  "Make sure none of your or Oliver's shit is left in here." Malachi said, slipping his arms beneath Oliver's lifeless body.
  "We already did that."
  "I don't care. Double check." Malachi huffed as he lifted Oliver off of the bed.
  Caston sighed and took another drag, kicking his feet around the perimeter of the room.
  "Door." Malachi said, his voiced strained as he struggled to carry the wrapped up body.
  Caston opened the door and stood beneath the frame as Malachi carried Oliver to his truck. He took a breath and tossed the body over the tailgate, where it landed with a thud.
  After the room was set up--or rather messed up and there was nothing left that said either boy was here, Malachi looked over to Caston. "Lighter."
  Caston handed the lighter to Malachi. The latter stretched his arm behind the tv and flicked the lighter beneath the tv chord.
  The flame expanded, eating at the wires and moving to the wall quickly. The wallpaper behind the tv became a picture of flames, smoke vastly filling the room.
  "Oh shit! That worked way better than I thought it would." Malachi felt a sound escape his throat, but refused to call it a laugh.
  Malachi held the lighter up to the curtains and then to a part of the wall he had thrown some of the alcohol on, hoping the room would burn as quickly as possible.
  "After this we have to run." Malachi said, stepping over to the bed. He held the lighter against the mattress and watched with glassy eyes as the stained fabric caught fire immediately.
  Caston threw his cigarette onto the floor and crushed it with the bottom of his foot.
  Malachi grabbed Caston's hand and pulled him out of the fire-filled room.
  The second they hopped into Malachi's truck, the entire room seemed to fill with smoke. As if it knew they had left.
  Malachi wasted no time and sped out of the parking lot, driving in a direction he wasn't sure of at the moment.
  "Fuck." Malachi muttered suddenly.
  "What?" Caston's voice was calm.
  "Security cameras. We're totally fucked. Cops look at that shit first."
  "There aren't any."
  "No way. They've go to have them."
  "They don't. That's why I went there. It's known as the best inconspicuous place for hookups. I've been there a lot with guys who don't want people to know certain things. Trust me, we're safe."
  "Okay. If you say so." Malachi glanced to Caston for a moment, then back to the road.
  The calmness of Caston's voice made Malachi feel at ease.