ten // 5sos

1.8

( I literally sat down and made a kill order list. )

The unavoidable truth that Calum's lack of health concerned only Simoné is shoved down his throat as Calum stares at the door. Why isn't a soul worried about his inevitable death? Besides Simoné of course. But, he hardly knew she would.

The boys he formerly called his best mates, cease to appear. Calum knows of Luke's death, but to his knowledge Michael and Ashton were still alive and well. Why hasn't they dropped by? Why don't they give a single fuck?

It's evident he could not be the killer (or could he?). However, it would be hard to not have doubts. A popular suspicion among the survived is that Calum is feigning his illness. That its all a malicious charade to obscure his plan to brutally slaughter those he referred to as his friends.

A sick! wicked thing, that could be true.

-

Simoné stands on her bed and takes a picture off of the wall, jumping off the bed afterwards. Her eyes scan through the twisted nursery rhyme she learned as a child, and thoughts cross her mind.

Nearly all of these, pertained to the deaths.

Raven suffocated, or overslept herself.

Is it mere coincidence that the attic is named Devon? Or that Candace stayed in the attic until her death?

And Luke's death had been staged to be a suicide, with the axe in his hand.

But what the killer didn't know, is that would be nearly impossible to sever a limb and be able to amputate others as well. An amateur mistake that reveals a lot about the maturity of the killer.

Simoné reads the poem over and over, until the words blurred as her eyes went out of focus. She snaps out of it by blinking twice. She blindly wanders out if her room with her eyes targeted on the frame in her small hands. The frame collides with the chest of another housemate as Simoné loses her balance.

The frame is sent flying down the hall. Simoné, now lying on her back with her forearms supporting her upper body up a few inches and her knees slightly bent. She groans.

"Ashton, what the hell?" She calls out when she's able to identify him by his shaggy dirty blonde hair. He is on the floor as well.

"It's not all my fault, " He retorts and gets up. He extends a hand out to Simoné and she stares at it warily. "Don't worry there's no weapon in my hand or anything. " His humor runs dry and he doesn't get the desired response from Simoné. All he wanted was a smile, instead he got a blank expression.

She accepts his request to help her up. She releases his hand as soon as she is stable on her feet. A murmur of a thank you comes from her now pressed together lips.

His eyebrows furrow when he spots the the frame on the floor. "Why is this on the floor?" He takes a few large steps towards it and picks up the frame.

"Don't you have one of those?" She piles on another question instead of answering his. "In your room?" She adds with a quirk of her brow.

"Yeah. " He draws out and reads through it. "I don't see what's so special about it. " Ashton is, more like appears, genuinely confused about the significance of it.

"Think. Focus on the similarities between the fall of the Indians, and the deaths of our friends. "

It flicks in Ashton's head and his lips form an O when realisation crosses.

"Also. " Simoné gulped. "Whenever someone gets close to figuring out who the killer is, they die." Fear covers her porcelain face and enlarges her blue eyes. "Raven and Candace were trying to figure it out when they died. Max,Luke, Raven, and Candace all saw the killer before they were murdered. "

"So why are you telling me this?" Queries Ashton. "For all you know, I could be the killer. "

"You would've killed me by now. "

"Oh on the contrary, a good killer strikes when opportunity is high and traces are low. If I did now, then the remaining would be able to deduct who truly was the killer. You see how they strike when no one has an alibi?"

-

I TOTALLY FORGOT TO UPDATE SORRY.

(This story's halfway over ):)

Homework can suck my nonexistent penis.

THANKS FOR OVER 2K HOLY SHIZBALLS.