The Cray's

Helpless Plees and Fatal Decisions

Sweat drenched my body. My hand was shaking and so slick with sweat that I almost dropped it when I heard keys jingling on the other side of the door.

My body tensed and I prepared myself to attack him. I heard the key being shoved into the lock and then ring twisted. The lock clicked and the door started to slowly open. I bounced in the balls of my feet, waiting for the perfect time to attack. Once an arm came through I grasped his forearm and pulled him in the room while stabbing at his chest and throat in the process.

That was when I realized it wasn't Len. This man was too bulky and was wearing a blue jumpsuit. A patch on his chest said His name was Tim. His breathing sounded wet and he made a gurgling sound followed by red bubbles that frothed from his mouth.

I didn't regret killing him. After all, there was a bed in the janitor's closet and he didn't think twice! He should be to blame almost as much as Len. Almost.

With little effort, pulling bodies all the time when I was little really built my strength, I dragged him into the room and cleaned up the blood that got outside the door. I took his keys and then shut the door behind me, locking it. That'll be a nice surprise for Len.

I ran down the empty hallways, the last remnants of the drug wearing off, and burst out the front door of the school. I searched for my car but then remembered I ran to Len's house last night. My car is at my house. One green truck caught my eye. The owner wouldn't be needing it anymore.

The janitor's car. I still had his keys dangling in my hand. I ran to his rusted out green truck and hopped in the drivers seat. The springs from the cushion beneath me scratched at my legs but I ignored then and searched for the key.

Once I found it I jammed it ini the ignition and brought the truck to life. I sped out o the parking lot and raced towards my house. I had to pick up some equipment before paying a visit to the soon-to-be guest of honor.

As soon as I pulled up to my house I jumped out the door of the truck, leaving it running, and then hurtle up the steps to the door. I kick the door open, my parents long forgotten, and head right towards the door in the kitchen and down those steps.

I splash in the puddle at the bottom of the stairs and then go into the equipment room. I grab my favorite bag full of rusty tools and head back upstairs.

Just as I'm about to run out the door a flash catches my eye. I look down at the counter and tears almost form in my eyes. Through my misted eyes I can see a picture lying on the counter. It was if my and Alessa right after I lured her in and after I convinced my parents we should raise her.

I snatched it up and shoved it in my pocket before running out the door. The momentary salt in the wound fueling my rage. I stomped on the gas and floored it all the way to Len's. this time I wasn't looking for him to comfort me. I was looking for revenge, and I will have my vengeance.

I pulled up to his house and turned the car off. My hands were stiff and gripping the steering wheel tightly. My bag was sitting next to me, daring me to back out. I took a big shaky breath and retracted my sore fingers then grabbed my bag. I opened it to make sure everything was there and then opened the door, stepping out and onto shaky legs.

I put one foot in front of the other and made it up to the door. I pushed it open quietly and peered inside. Everything was how it was before except Len wasn't on the couch snoring softly. I stepped in and shut the door quietly behind me.

All was silent. It actually didn't look like he'd been here since this morning. Or was that yesterday? How long was I out for?

A drawer scraping shut cut off my trail of thought. It felt like a bucket of ice just got poured into my veins. I looked around frantically for a place to hide and wound up tiptoeing into a closet. It had horizontal slits in the wood so I could see out but I prepared myself in case he could see in.

My senses were on high alert. I heard a zipper get tugged shut and then a door was opened and closed again. I covered my mouth with one hand and grabbed a large knife, from my bag, with the other. I clutched it out in front of me and waited. Loud footsteps followed. I held my breath and waited.

The footsteps got closer.

I waited. My heart pounded so loud I was sure Len could hear me.

The footsteps stopped. A dark figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt stood in front of the closet door. He opened the door slowly and I shoved forward. With a battle cry I jammed my knife into his gut and heard a satisfying cry. Followed by a few curse words. I took the knife out and stabbed him again. He stumbled backwards before falling to the ground, clutching his stomach. That's when his good fell back.

The guy lying before me did not have a tattoo curling around his eye that was supposed to look like a scar. Tears sprang into my eyes and rushed down my cheeks as my best friend lied dieing because if me.

"No. No, no, no, Tate!" I cried. He choked and spat. Blood spattered his chin and his big green eyes looked up at me, recognition taking place.

"Rhyan?" His voice made it sound like he was under water. He looked confused and betrayed. Pain stabbed at my heart and tears splattered onto Tate's chest. "Make the pain go away Ry," he whispered so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

"I'm so fucking sorry Tate. I'll make it stop." I grabbed the knife one more time and positioned it over his heart. I closed my eyes and forced my hands downward until I felt the blade scrape against his ribs and puncture his heart. Tate gasped and more blood spilled down his jaw before his body went limp and cold.

I collapsed onto his chest and closed my eyes fiercely. I cried out in choked sobs and tears flowed down my cheeks like a waterfall. It felt as though my heart was being ripped out all over again.

I just killed my best friend.