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The Chaotic Morning Of The Fifth

*Third Person POV*

Vic Fuentes sat on the couch in his best friend's living room. Police officers, paramedics, and the occasional journalist running around him. There was no silence in the solemn house, but Vic stayed completely still. If you stared at him long enough, it would seem as if the people swarming around him were moving in slow motion.

He remained motionless. A blank look plastered onto his tan face, cheekbones even more prominent than they usually are, blood smeared on his clothes and hands, and eight neatly folded letters rested in his hands. He had read them. He read all of them. He felt as if he was on fire. This was all his fault, he thought. If only he had kept kissing Kellin the night before, he wouldn't be watching his best friend's corpse being wheeled out on a stretcher, hidden in a midnight black body bag . He finally stood up and left the chaotic scene.

This morning, Vic had gone to the Bostwick's home to apologize and explain things to Kellin. He had meant to tell Kellin that the two couldn't be together right now. Vic was confused. He still had Alex and Jaime to worry about, but Kellin had found a way to worm his way between the seams of Vic's heart and made a home in his veins. He needed more time to clear his mind, but time had just ran out.

He got the shock of his life when he opened Kellin's bedroom door to see Kellin dangling from his ceiling fan, arms slit so badly his skin looked ready to slip off. Vic had screamed. He screamed and cried and then screamed some more until he heard the police sirens. That's when he collapsed. He fell to the floor only to scream and punch at the blood soaked carpet, blood getting onto his hands and clothes. Then he was pulled away to the living room where he was later handed the letters addressed to him.

When he got home, Vic went and sat on his bed. The last thing heard was a gunshot. And then complete silence.

THE END.