dream sweet, simon

Space Station Level 7

Simon stared down. He had done what he needed to do. She was avenged. He smiled slightly at the ground, and walked away. He gazed sorrowfully at the result of what had happened before he needed to kill. Sighing, he got on his knees and sobbed before the lifeless body of his love. She was gone, forever. He wasn't getting her back, but at least he got one thing done. This, however, was the first and possibly only time he'd be in love. Simon was, and it would always be was, in absolute love.

After many hours of mourning, and the long process of burying his love, he went to the hotel he'd been staying at, as he was on vacation in Hawaii.
He'd forgotten his weapon of choice at the burial site.
Simon realized this with absolute dread.
He couldn't go back to the site of the murder, as someone would notice him, no sane person walks around with a knife.
That's exactly what he did earlier.
If he went to court, he'd have an exact explanation.
It shouldn't be a crime if it was out love, right? At least, that's what he thought.
Even if he was sentenced to somewhere else, it couldn't be as bad as prison.
Only if he was found, though.
The other person he found with Charlene would absolutely be convicted of the murder, but he was dead.
The only way he'd be found is if someone saw him near the site of the deaths.
He was fine, for now.
Simon also smelled terribly of blood and sweat, and it was an incredibly strong scent.
He'd obviously be found that way, so he changed as soon as he thought about that.
It's not like he could go out anymore.
His family was going to worry about him.
He could never live a normal life again.
It was his social and emotional death.
If all worked out, however, he could in fact go back to Michigan, but it's not like he wanted to leave where his only love was.
This trip was only supposed to last two weeks, a fun, lighthearted thing to do.
Now it was nothing.
The only good thing was the beach and Charlene, but both of those were taken away from him.
He might as well just turn himself in, but the only thing preventing him from doing that was his emotional and mental state and the fact that he already had too much to deal with; he killed someone and someone was killed.
Simon had lost everything except himself. For now.
At least, if there were any consequences, they wouldn't be that severe, as he had only recently turned seventeen.

Out of nowhere, Simon thought he heard knocking on the door. Getting up from his position on the couch, he opened it anxiously. No one was there.
He was going to have to get used to hearing and seeing things that weren't there.
Before that happened, he "saw" the doorknob being pulled and pushed on.
He feared going to sleep during the night, as he knew he'd only be terrified by the unseen objects that could be there in the darkness, and the fact that he'd keep having similar dreams that seemed a bit too real.
Maybe he'd just have to succumb to his thoughts and fears.
He couldn't keep living like this.
Simon, who was returned to the couch, buried his face in the page that he was on in the magazine he wasn't actually reading, more trying to get his mind off of death by skimming over words.
It, of course, was not working, because the magazine, at least what he got to in it, was just about random psychology studies, nothing to his interest.
At least, not for now.
Simon started to long not only for the past few days, but for the future, too. They could've done so much together. They'd be able to actually marry each other, even have children, if it weren't for Zubin.
He had a hatred for somebody who he couldn't take his anger out on.
Another bad thing was that he couldn't be making too much noise, as he would not have an explanation for what was happening.
Simon was exhausted in all possible ways. One thing he wished he could do was just skip through this whole day, and the next few.
This was the worst possible situation to be in, according to him.