(Don't) Remember Us - An H2OVanoss Story

Chapter 13: "Gates of Hell Pt. 1"

eheh i'm updatin so that i can try to make the scene a little bit dramatic

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Word count: 666 words (istg this has nothing to do with satanism)

Unfazed by the gun on his chest, Jonathan stood his ground. Sure, he was shocked by the fact that Evan wasn't afraid to point a gun onto his chest – with his finger dangerously hovering over the trigger, for God's sake! – but, what shocked him more was that Evan was filling him in with the information he never knew would come up.

"I want you to run away, Jonathan. Run. Don't look back."

Evan's voice from two years ago. It successfully resurfaced again, and the puzzle piece that he desperately needed had finally showed itself, clicking into the unfinished puzzle board like it was a perfect fit, altogether. His eyeballs darted onto the ceiling, onto the floor (where David lay motionless), onto the dining table; simply everywhere but Evan. This isn't right; Evan is lying to me again; this isn't right; Evan is lying to me again; this isn't right; Evan is lying to me again... and so he kept telling himself the same sequence of sentences in a repetitious manner, but he was sure it was the answer he actually needed from Evan.

He finally knew and it failed to give him the slightest bit of happiness or satisfaction.

"I...killed my own sister...?," he whispered under his breath carefully, head throbbing so bad he'd definitely like it if someone would be willing to rip his hair off for him, only to clear the pain, "I...I thought...but you were..."

"Yeah, I know. I was the one who was in jail for two years, not you, blah blah," Evan spoke up again, retracting the gun from Jonathan's chest, "I took the blame for you, Jonathan. You shot her on the chest with the same gun..." – he raised the gun and waved it in the air slightly – "...in this very room. The neighbor's call of distress arose, and I basked in the desperate waver of your voice. 'Evan, what should I do? Oh God, Evan, please don't just stare at me like that. Please, Evan, do something!'

"I couldn't just shrug at you like it was nothing, could I? I told you to run out of the back door, and after you ran, that was when the police came in," he continued, and he paused when he walked towards one of the cabinets and opened it, fishing out a bullet with dried blood clotting its shiny surface, "I had to dig this out of her body, Jon. It was a mess, and I was thankful that the dirty work was worth it. The police may have found the chaotic bullet wound on her, but they didn't have a single clue about you and your gun. The neighbors might have heard the gunshot, but then again, I hid the gun well. Very well at that. Ooh, no, never underestimate Evan Fong in a game of hide-and-seek. They didn't even know that it was a bullet wound before I wrecked it. They believed that I was a cannibal who was pretty hungry for that poor girl's heart. A fuckin' cannibal, Jonathan. Crazy, wasn't it?

"I was sentenced with ten years of jail. And two years later, the filthy-rich Marcel came to my rescue to cut those eight years from the rest of supposed period, and...well, even the law can't defy the power of money, so they took 'em, and released the famous Evannibal. Freed from the police surveillance, at last. But taking upon the news that you fell for David wasn't really a pleasant thing to hear...except that it was a pleasant thing to hear since my plan had worked all along.

"Now, here we are. At the point where you rejected my proposal, and I, Evan the Cannibal, am being the smartest out of the two once again. Just to let you know the angry and drunk-driving Craig was a bonus – his post-anger from his fight with Tyler decided to interfere, and that was what made his death occur.

"My baby, my Jonathan; can't you see? You've been in my game all along.

"And welcome to Plan B."

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