~~Ryan's POV~~
He wasn't waking up. I drove as close as i could to the door and got him inside but he was still unconscious. I checked his pulse and it was there. Barely there, but at least it was there.
I had no idea what to do. So i did nothing. I just sat there and cried. I cried for Brendon, i cried because there were probably cult members coming to kill me. I held his limp hand in my trembling one and wished he was here to comfort me. But he wasn't.
I sat in silence for what seemed like years before something began to happen.
His hand began to shake in mine. I looked at his face but there was no movement.
"Brendon, wake up! Please wake up!"
Nothing. But his hand kept shaking. And then it happened. His eyelids flickered open and revealed yellow irises. I got up instantly, moving to the other side of the room. His skin then turned to that familiar grey, cracked skin. Then he began to stand up. And he faced me. And he moved.
"Brendon, no! Don't do this, not again, please!"
No reply. There was no use anymore. He moved towards me, fingers sprouting sharp claws as he walked. I backed up until I hit the wall behind me. No escape.
He then turned away from me, tearing old posters from the walls, destroying memories we once shared. Tears filled my eyes as our past was being ripped apart. And then he turned back to the present.
~~Brendon's POV~~
I
must
kill
I
must
destroy
~~Ryan's POV~~
He was approaching me faster and faster. There was nowhere to run now.
~~Brendon's POV~~
K
I
L
L
~~Ryan's POV~~
I was pinned against the wall.
"P..please.. no.."
All my strength had been drained from me. He raised his claws and yellow flames surrounded him as he did so. The heat made sweat pour down my face as he came ever closer. I couldn't stop him, not this time. So I closed my eyes. I fell back against the wall. I dropped my guard. Memories of Brendon and me flashed before my eyes. God, i loved him. I loved him no matter what happened.
~~Brendon's POV~~
My eyes opened. I had no idea where I was. Last thing i remember i was on skype with Ryan. But I wasn't in my house any more. I was surrounded with torn paper and broken glass. I couldn't sit up. Couldn't move my legs. A strange smell drifted under my nose. It reminded me of the one time I couldn't bear to relive. The torture.
I sat up. I knew where I was. Our old recording studio. This place had so many memories. Man, I missed those days.
I had to get out of here. I wondered where Ryan was as I went to stand up.
But then I saw. In the corner of the room lay a person. Blood stained the walls and the floor around them. I slowly walked towards them and bent down.
My heart shattered. It was Ryan. He lay there, cut, bruised and bleeding. I knelt at his side and tried to get him to wake up.
There was no point. He was gone.
I sat by him as I tried to work out what the fuck had happened. But then I realised.
It
was
me
I had done this. I'd had one of my demon moments and it'd gotten too much for Ryan and I'd done it. I knew my insecurities were right: I was a freak. I was a fucking freak. I didn't deserve to live. I killed my one friend. The one person who was there for me when nobody else was. The one person I truly loved.
I couldn't bear this any longer.
I had to get out of my mind.
I grabbed a piece of broken glass, grabbed Ryan's cold, bloodied hand and left this world behind.
