Handcuffed To A Gay Guy

Chapter 29 - The Twin

The story doesn't seem to be even an inch closer to concluding..

I don't know abt u guyzz but I don't want this story to end...

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EENNjjooYY!

Ryan's Pov

Callum used to be my best friend.

He was a pretty muscular guy. He was handsome and boyish in his own way and that's what I loved most about him. He had these dazzling blue eyes and a shock of blonde hair that flopped down on his head. His skin was tanned and his muscles were totally drool-worthy.

He was gay.

He used to tell me that there were so many gay people all around the world. And most of my friends were gay. 

I loved him. He didn't love me.

I hated him for that. I wanted him. He was so handsome, so beautiful and I couldn't resist him. It was pure torture watching him strut around with me, his blue eyes flashing with life and his full, pink lips capturing my attention every moment I saw him.

And then, he got a boyfriend. His name was Quintin.

Callum was so overjoyed that I was jealous. Quin that, Quin this; I got tired of hearing it all. I wanted out. And suddenly, all I could think about was getting him. I wanted to kill Quintin; he was the main problem.

It was his birthday. Callum was pretty popular but he said that this time, he didn't want to invite the whole school or anything. He just wanted his best friend and boyfriend beside him. It was a perfect oppurtunity. Nobody would be at home and Callum's house was pretty far away from the residential areas.

So, I hatched a plan.

All three of us were in the living room and Quintin and Callum were eyeing each other with lust clear in their eyes. I couldn't stand it. I was furious. I pulled out my knife and before anyone could do anything, I stabbed him. I stabbed Quintin.

As Quintin lay dying on the floor, Callum stared at me wide-eyed. He backed away from me slowly. I took a step forward as he took a step back and I must have looked menacing because Callum had this scared look in his eyes.

"What are you doing, Ry? Please, stop," he begged but I didn't listen. When he had his back pressed to the wall, his gaze fixedly on the knife in my hand, I pushed my elbow to his throat and held him in place. Both of us knew who was physically superior.

"Please..." Callum whispered. 

I grabbed his shirt and threw him on the cushiony sofa. He lay there, petrified, until I ordered him to remove his clothes. He stared at me, frightened, and when he made no move, I threatened to stab him. He quickly removed his clothes, leaving on only his boxers. 

I made him stand and walked all round him, examining him from all angles and I liked what I saw. I removed my clothes and threw them away. He tried to back away from me but only flopped down on the sofa. I jumped on top of him and I couldn't wait any longer.

I discarded our boxers and kissed him ferociously. He squirmed under me, trying to get away. But I wouldn't let him go. I would never do that.

His screams and pleas all night fell on deaf ears.

And then finally, I killed him. I felt his life seeping away as I slit his throat and he died in my arms. The anger was gone, suddenly, the frustration, the jealousy. I looked around with horrow at my doings and I cried out. I couldn't bear it; I had killed my best friend and his lover.