Who Killed Kyle Simmons? (Bastille)

Chapter One

Warning: this story contains violence towards cat loving moustache men. :)

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Currently editing
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Chapter one

The light from the TV blared around the room, illuminating the outline of the sofa and chairs.

It was late in the night, and almost everyone was asleep. Almost.

The room was clean, freshly painted, the dark sofa taking up a majority of floor space.

Darkness crept into every unlit corner, silhouettes climbing up the walls, down the backs of furniture, and slithering under cracks and crevices in the floorboards.

On the sofa, crouched a man. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a moustache. One hand stroking the corner of his short beard, a nervous trait. His hair and jacket were damp from the downpour outside. New blue sneakers sat on the inside doormat, laced in mud.

He was oblivious to the world. A beer in one hand, eyes glued to the flashing images and noises of someone else's life on the screen. Trying desperately to un see, what he'd witnessed hours before.

No. There was no way ignoring it would make it better. This wasn't something that would just go away if he slept on it. Something he tried to do with most of his problems.

The floorboards creaked, and he leaned round to see who it was, shadowing the doorway.

"Back already?" He joked.

The shape took out a crowbar, gently brandishing it by their side.

Hardly making a noise, the person came closer, shaky breathing bouncing off of the walls.

The crowbar slammed into the back of the sofa, just inches from the other mans head. He jumped back, scrambling to his feet, but there was no where to go.

The kitchen door blocked by the other person, the front door too far away.

Backing away, until he was in the corner of the room, he put his arms up to shield himself. His silent attacker strode purposefully towards him.

He slid down the wall.

He tried to yell out as the figure brought the crowbar down on him again and again, lifting the weapon high above their head.

Pain. Everywhere pain.

His hands were stained with blood as he tried to defend himself, fingers broken and twisted, mangled by the crowbar.

It was so dark except the light from the television, which kept flashing, and highlighting the room like lightening. The rain outside, drumming louder and louder on the house.

He feebly tried to drag himself away, his skull unprotected.

The television flashed white, illuminating his assailants face. Recognising them, he whispered their name, frozen for the moment, in shock.

The other person recoiled for a moment before brandishing the crowbar, ready for another string of attacks.

His bones were shattering with each recurring blow from the crowbar. He could feel it tearing away at his skin. Blood spraying in all directions.

Slowly losing consciousness, he could hear his killer repeatedly whispering.

"I'm sorry."

The metal smashed against his temple. Black spots shot across and invaded his vision.

"I'm so so sorry."

With his eyes, open, sightless and glazed over, he lay in a crumpled pile. Blood spattered the room, seeping into his clothes.

Up the walls, staining the rug, dripping from the ceiling.

"I'm so, so, sorry... Kyle."

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A/N

This may be a more violent than my other stories...

The next chapter goes up tomorrow, I hope you guys enjoy this new fanfic. :)

Please vote, comment, share etc... :)