The Beautiful and the Psychotic

Chapter Eighteen

Alexis's P.O.V.

I only found out at the party that Bella had been killed. And I knew that either outcome, I wasn't going to attend. I just had to find out who was dead.

Jamey thought it was funny. To him, survival was a light game with friends. He thought Ethan should be proud to have murdered. 

He was sick. Psychopathic.

Ethan and Jamey stood on a massive stage in the meeting hall of B1, surrounded by people cheering, pretending to be happy. Bella's body was laying on the stage between them as Jamey talked to the people. It hurt to look at her, because although the blood had been cleaned away, there was still a gaping hole in the side of her head. The expression on her face would be forever shock. Horror. Pain. To make it worse, most of her body was burnt, mangled. She was barely recognizable.

I ran out of the room, almost tripping over a group of people, mostly girls, all mourning together. They were crying, hugging, saying Bella's name.

As soon as I saw them, I just broke down.

I curled up in a ball, sobbing. Bella was gone and there was no bringing her back. I would never see her again, never walk into B122 and see her happily styling somebody, never hear her voice. Her face would fade from my memory, and I'd be left grasping at straws, trying to remember Bella, just one of the many victims of Jamey's cruel, insane little world. Jamey had started his own little pocket of the country, where you could almost never leave, where you were forced to work for him, where he could do whatever he wanted to you. It was Jamey's own opressive little country. And Bella was just one of the many deaths to come.

Somebody sat down next to me, wrapping their arms around me, crying with me. I returned David's hug, and we tried to take strength from each other.

Ethan's P.O.V.

I never wanted to kill her. Never. I had been possessed by something evil, I felt. My soul had been torn apart, leaving me as fast as the light had left her eyes.

I didn't want to be here. I wished I had pulled the gun on myself. I would've given anything to turn back time and shoot myself, not her.

16 was talking, and I heard his voice, by not his words. It didn't matter. I couldn't look at the crowd's hateful eyes, or Bella's corpse, so badly warped. I couldn't even sneak a peek at 16's malicious, sick grin. I'd never believed in good or evil, that there could be two sides, and you were either one or the other. I guess most people were neutral. But standing on the stage, I felt like 16 was the evil, and Bella was the good; and I had just become another evil in this world.

I could never return Bella's life.

I was going to walk free, but Bella would never do anything else again.