stabbing in the dark ~fransykes~

17

Josh's skin itched with guilt as he scanned the sad faces of the strangers around him. The sound of crying echoed in his ears, sending ripples of regret through his spine. Clad in a black suite and white shirt, Josh stood alone by the entrance of the church.

He didn't know any of these people, but he knew why they were there: to mourn Jane. At first, Josh was surprised that anyone other than him had bothered to turn up at all. He'd always portrayed Jane as some heartless, cold, witch who was incapable of actually having friends or a family that cared about her. But as he stood among the grieving crowd, he came to realised that maybe Jane wasn't so bad after all. She was important to all these people. She was a mother, a wife, a daughter.

Most importantly, she was gone forever. Wiped off this earth because of one stupid comment that Josh made without thinking. Josh knew that the timing of the accident was more than just a coincidence, it must have been. Which lead him onto his next hypothesis, that this had something to do with Oliver.

Oliver. His stomachs churned at the thought of his pale classmate who seemed to have more control over Josh then the blue eyed boy did himself. He thought about what Oliver had said on the day of the accident: they always come crawling back.

Josh may have not understood at the time, but he did now. He needed answers, answers that no one but Oliver could ever provide. Which is why Josh found himself walking numbly in the direction of Oliver's house as soon as the funeral procession had disassembled.

Every blink, and he was back in the car with Jane as the life slowly left her lungs. Every step, and he was looking down at the remains of her mangled body being lowered into the ground. Every breath, and he was surrounded by crying people dressed in black.

He needed answers.

It had been a week since Sarah told Josh about Jane's death, and ever since then his body had been burning alive with guilt. Not just that, but his nightmares had reached an all time peak of terror. Each one resulting in him gasping for air before running to the toilet to throw up black liquid. In the middle of the night was the only time he ever left his room, favouring the comfort of his own bed during the day as he withered in his own self-deprecation. It was a tragic scene, to say the least.

Josh breathed slowly as he raised a shaking hand to knock on the rotting wood of Oliver's door. As soon as he stepped foot on the porch, the weather seemed to drop multiple degrees like the property carried its own atmosphere. His heart pounded, sweat dampening the back of his shirt as he listened to footsteps getting closer and closer.

The door swung open, but no one was there.

Gulping heavily, he hesitantly stepped into seemingly empty house. The floorboards creaked under the weight of his feet, making him cringe. He walked past the closed kitchen door and the staircase, making his way to the slightly ajar door at the very end of the corridor.

Plucking up every lunch of courage inside of him, Josh turned the door handle with trembling fingers, slowly pushing the door open as the doors rusty hinges screamed in protest. The air inside the room was thick with dust, forcing Josh to recoil as he coughed violently.

Swatting away the thick cloud of dust, Josh's eyes finally focused enough for him to see into the room. It was a large living room, with a Tv and two red sofas that had been pushed to the wall along with a wooden coffee table. The walls were filled with picture frames, mostly capturing black and white shots of a young couple in love.

His bloodshot, blue eyes widened as he stared at the floor in shock. The once beige carpet was now stained with red, what he hoped was paint, soaked into the carpet in the shapes of a pentagram. In the middle was a single black candle, still alight. Among the red lines were hundreds of Polaroid photographs, littered randomly across the demonic shape.

Curiously, Josh bent down, his throat filling with acidic bile as he caught sight of the image on one of the Polaroid's. It was him. Covered in blood, limbs a torn mess, hanging upside down in that car with his eyes closed tightly.

He gasped, picking up another photograph, then another. They were all of him: close ups of his bruised face contorted in pain, shots of him passed out next to Jane, images of his blood covered hand clutching hers. He dropped the photos as if they were burning him, stumbling to his feet as he ran to the corner of the room to throw up. The liquid that came out was black, like always.

Wiping his mouth and chin with his sleeve, Josh stumbled backwards towards the door. Regret filled his body as he wished he had never have come here. His footsteps became quicker, his body still facing the pentagram as he struggled to look away from the horrific scene.

Suddenly, his back collided with something hard and cold that wrapped around his body. Sparks of energy instantly flew through his veins, igniting his blood like flint ignites a fire. He gasped loudly, feeling the deadly edge of a blade dance along the exposed skin of his neck. Every hair on his body stood on edge, as he glanced down at the pair of tattooed arms trapping him in their cold, strong grasp.

"Trespassing are we, dear?" Oliver chucked sadistically, running the edge of the knife across Josh's jaw line and cheek. Josh shuddered violently, hating how much he had secretly missed Oliver's voice. His mind was so fucked up.

Josh stayed silent, much to Oliver's apparent displeasure as he pressed the knife down harder against Josh's skin, smiling when red lines began to form.

"I told you you won't be able to stay away." He whispered lowly into Josh's ear, laughing as Josh shivered.

"You-you killed her." Josh whispered, cringing at how pathetic and broken his words came out. Oliver smiled like a Cheshire Cat, his lips pressing against Josh's warm cheek.

"I think you'll fine there should have been a 'thank you' on the end of that statement." The devil boy chirped against Josh's skin, moving his free hand up and down Josh's chest slowly.

"Why the fuck would I ever thank you?" Josh cried. "Don't you know what you've done?"

"I did what you asked, my love, so that you would be happy. Aren't you impressed with my act of love?" Oliver asked sweetly, blade dropping on the floor as he brought both hands up to Josh's shoulders and began to message them.

"I-I d-didn't mean what I said." Josh flinched, tears beginning to run down his flushed cheeks. Oliver frowned, turning Josh around so that they were face to face. Gently, he brought his white as snow fingers up to brush the tears from Josh's pale eyes. Electricity filled the air around them, hot and aggressive like every other time the pair had touched.

"Don't cry, my love. I know the feeling of love can be overwhelming for you humans sometimes." He whispered. Josh frowned, crying harder as the flood gates around his soul opened. He was so distraught that he didn't even register the fact that Oliver had just referred to him as 'you humans'.

"I don't understand, Oliver." Josh whispered desperately, pain aching inside of his chest. Oliver felt Josh's pain like it was his own, the grief ripping through his heart like a knife.

"You will." Oliver whispered back, wrapping his arms around Josh to pull him into a hug. For the first time, Josh didn't resist, simply letting Oliver caress his hair and back lovingly. He couldn't help but gag at the butterflies that erupted inside of his stomach.