Juvenile Heart

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight 

On The Run

          Blood was everywhere, and I felt my heart breaking.  I looked over to see Damon laying there with a hole blown through his skull.  Something in me snapped, and my anger boiled dangerously close to the edge.  Stealing a glance out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small, devious smirk form on Brock's face. 

          "Pity," Yvonne said, turning the gun toward me. 

          That was it; that was all it took.  My rage was released and I kicked the gun out of Brock's hand, lunging for Yvonne the second he scrambled to the ground.  I tackled her to the dirt, gripped tightly onto her hair and began beating her into the rocks.  Her body grew weak before going completely limp under me.  Brock ripped me off of her in no time at all, but he was too late to save her. 

          After I fell to the ground, I saw what I'd done.  Yvonne's head was now a bludgeoned pulp – she was dead, no doubt.  There was blood all over my hands and I took my chance to run.  Scrambling to my feet, I took off in the other direction of them, making twists and turns in the woods so Brock couldn't follow me. 

          His cries echoed in my ears even after I was out of hearing distance of his coherent words and screams.  Tears flooded down my face as I fully realized what I'd just done. 

          I just killed the one person I used to call my best friend.  She was dead because I was too weak to deal with the fact that she killed Damon.  Why couldn't I handle that?  I tried once before to rid the world of him, but now that someone else does it, I have a problem with it? 

          You're disgusting, the voice in my head sneered. 

          "S-s-shut u-up!"  I whisper-yelled out as I stumbled onto a road. 

          Looking down it, I recognize the heavily trafficked road as highway seventy-nine.  Grateful that I wasn't far from the road I needed to be on, I ducked down into the ditch and speed crawled my way along it.  Once I reached the familiar dirt road I had been looking for, I stood up and took off in the direction of the building I was looking for. 

          Stumbling into the entrance, I saw Asher with his hand in the wall.  There was a hole there, more than likely from his fist, and his eyes were shut tightly.  The sound of my footsteps caught his attention and he spun quickly around to face me. 

          A mortified expression took over his once angered features as he took in my bloody hands, tank top and body.   His eyes trailed slowly back up to my face, and saw the fear in it.  Rushing over as soon as he had himself pulled together again, he embraced me and stroked my hair.  His comforting whispers calmed me and I closed my eyes briefly. 

          Once I had myself calmed down enough, I opened my mouth and spoke to him.  Worry coated my tone, but from the look on his face, he was far worse off than I was.  I hardly made my words out, but eventually they all flowed together.

          "They're dead, Ash.  They . . .  S-she's dead and so is he." 

          "Who's dead, baby?"  He whispered, rocking me back and forth as we sat on the ground.  I just shook my head, and he groaned, "Ivy, tell me . . .  You only ever looked like that after what happened with Damon.  Please . . .  Tell me?"

          "Yvonne killed Damon, and . . . and I snapped . . . "  I whispered, my voice and breathing shaky.  I couldn't contain it anymore and I stared off into space as I spoke, "I smashed in Yvonne's head . . .  They're dead.  It's my fault . . .  If I wouldn't have gotten out . . . "