Run. (Team Crafted Fanfiction)

Chapter 20-Stop!

Jerome's POV

A molten anger still boils through my veins as I follow the group. They may think I got it out of my system, but I didn't. I squint my eyes at the ground and tap my gun against my leg.

Not one of them. One by one, they all wrote Mitch off for dead. Not one of then thought he had a chance, had thought of going after him. They all did that sad little look again, and I felt like punching each and every one of them. Ian must've noticed my curled fists, as he had quickly shoved my stuff towards me and suggested we leave. No one has spoken to me since.

I can feel it. My biggums is still alive. Screw power moves and all that, I'm thinking of the dang a Lang time and the harvest. A discussion we had had during one day comes back to me.

We had been playing the hunger games and gotten seperated.

"Biggums, where would the crazy Canadian go when he was lost?"

Mitch had laughed. "To my natural habitat of course! You baccas like your trees, and this Benja likes his slaughter!"

I laughed. "To spawn then, biggums! To the gathering place of the people!"

I drift back to reality. Mitch wouldn't go to a populated place in this mess. Even he's not that stupid. So where would he go?

Lets see. In the old days, if I died, Mitch would make an alliance. So Mitch probably went and made a friend. I smile slightly and whisper,

"Order 66 on the Canadian!"

I remember how his allies had been tempted to turn on him and commence order 66. An old joke, but a good one.

Up ahead of me, the guys are joking around. I watch as Ian, leaning heavily on Quentin, does his derp face. Everyone laughs, and Jason starts screaming about Ty's left foot. Ty calls Quentin a fish, and Quentin protests. Ryan walks along beside them, singing some idiotic song. Suddenly, I am furious. It feels like someone just dumped hot lava through my veins. I shudder and grit my teeth, my gun quickening its tap.

They don't even care. They don't give a crap. I feel my whole body beginning to tremble in anger.

How can they just move on like that? Mitch is gone, and they're acting like they're still YouTube stars. How can they just be happy? My world is crumbling around me.

I need Mitch.

My gun clatters to the pavement, and I watch Ian turn. Watch as the color drains from his face, the laughter fading from his eyes. Watch as he calls out, and the others turn. But I don't care. Screw them.

Turning on my heel, I sprint away from them as fast I can. I hear someone shouting, and a bullet explodes in the pavement right next to me. More shouting, but no more gunshots follow. My vision has turned red. My shoulder burns with pain, but I relish it. Relish the pounding in my head.

Jason's POV

"Ty! Your left foot will save us! Your lucky left foot! Release its magic!"

Laughing, I join in the yelling with the team. We walk along, having a great time. I open my mouth and turn to Ian to crack a joke, but I stop. Ian stares over his shoulder, deathly pale.

"Jerome!"

I turn and gasp. Jerome stands a good ten feet behind us on the pavement. His gun lays next to his foot, and he is visibly shaking. The way he stares at us, with such absolute loathing. Standing there in his bloody power moves only shirt, with his dirty jeans. His eyes are full of pure hatred as he spins around and runs in the opposite direction.

"Jerome! Stop!" I scream. "What are you doing! Stop! Jerome!"

Besides me, Ty lifts his gun and takes a shot. The bullet hits the ground right next to Jerome's foot, and I round on Ty. Wrenching the gun from his grasp, I scream at him. "What are you doing? You could've killed him!"

Leaving Ty standing there motionless, I sprint after Jerome. I may not be the fastest out of us, but I can move pretty fast if I want to. I shorten the distance between Jerome and I. I call out to him, but he just  runs faster. Silently cursing, I force myself to go faster. The length shortens. Five feet. Three feet. Two feet. One foot.

I throw myself forward and tackle him at the waist. Jerome turns over, and I almost lose my grip on him.

Tears stream down his face, and spittle leaks slightly from the corner of his mouth. His eyes are puffy and swollen. And full of a deep, undeniable, insane anger. He screams and starts hitting every bit of me he can reach. I cry out in pain as his blows connect, but don't let go. What the heck is wrong with him?

He relents on his punches. He looks into my eyes, and I shudder.

"Let me go." he hisses.

I shake my head.

"I have to find Mitch."

A tear runs down my cheek. "I'm sorry."

With that, he screams again, loud and piercing. His strikes start up again, harder and faster than before. He aims his blows at my head this time, and I am forced to release his waist. He starts to wriggle out from under me.

Where are the guys?

I throw myself on top of him and pin his arms to the pavement. He moans into the concrete and goes limp. After a moment, I sense that the rest of then are finally here. They stand around Jerome and I, observing sadly.

The only sound is Jerome. His muffled cries and sobs float up to us, and I feel like I'm being punched every time a sound hits my ears. Then he stops. I let out a breath of relief and loosen my grip, just to tighten it again.

Jerome lets out a low, unearthly wail. His body curls underneath me, and I lean back and sit. Watch as he screams and cries onto the concrete. Watch him pound his fists against it. Tears begin stream down my face as rakes his fingers up and down the cement, leaving bloody trails. No one stops him.

We sit and watch him break.