Stories I Never Finished

Chaos

Heavy metal scraped against the tarmac road, stones of loose gravel catching on the bloodied edge of an axe as it was dragged alongside the clack of bloodied black boots; laced up and studded with silver chains much like the belt wrapped around the killer's slender waist.

The moon's gaze cascaded down over him with each step he took in the darkness, street lights stared at him--watching him while sleeping houses couldn't. He raised a blood covered hand, red reflecting like black against the midnight sky as he ran bloodied fingers through tousled fiery red hair; smearing crimson through their locks.

His phone buzzed violently in his pocket, each echo of its quiet ringtone flashing another image of disturbing chaos before his eyes. His mind was whirling with insanity, yet his conscious was calm--his outer appearance bleeding with the same anxiety a pre-exam student felt all the while his head rippled in madness. Blood splattered walls, torn bed sheets and miserable cries of regret echoed in replacement of his ringtone as he fished into his jean pocket, nudging silver chains hanging off his hip, and pulled it out.

Answering with a flip of his phone, Michael let out a soft breath--slowly coming to realisation of what he had done.

"Jesus! Finally you pick up, bloody hell, Mike. I've been trying to call you for hours!" The voice of his estranged friend tore into his conscious, washing into his ear and ghosting the studded beads pierced through cartilage.

"Lou told me you took his axe. What the fuck are you doing now?" Ashton Irwin wasn't someone Michael would regard as a friend. He was like the tip of a triangle and Michael was the one stuck on the corner.

Background noise drifted through the phone's crackling speaker, and Michael recognised the distant sound of Louis when the older male spoke from Ashton's end—most likely wrapped up in Irwin's messy white bed sheets with pink cheeks and sex-hair.

"He didn't take his meds either, Niall called me this morning. He tossed them in the bin."

Ashton made a grunt of sheer annoyance and returned to the phone call. "What the fuck is your problem Michael? You complain about hating yourself and you don't even take your fucking meds? You're an attention seeker, I swear to god."

Ashton ran his hand down his face, a disgruntled noise emitted as he did so, and Louis spoke again. "You should go pick him up."

"Pick him up? What so I can listen to him sob about his bullshit?" Ashton snorted, his words now directed to Michael. "Mike, where the fuck are you? I'm gonna get Harry and his boys to kick your ass."

With a heavy breath of exhaustion, Michael's eyes clenched slowly shut, and as tears trickled their silent way down blood spritzed cheeks Michael forced his gaze to the sky in the hopes someone could send him an angel.

"You know Niall cheated on me, right?" Michael's voice cracked, crumbling as his steps began to weaken.

Ashton paused. "With who? That Melanie chick?"

Through a humourless chuckle riddled with hatred, Michael scoffed "don't act stupid, Ash. I know it was you... Can't say I'm too surprised. Town fuck boy always gets what he wants."

"Shut the fuck up, mate. I'm with Louis right now. You heard him just before. Wherever your boyfriend is I wouldn't know."

"He's been cheating for weeks..." Michael held his phone, clutching it as though hugging it to his ear as tears began to spill too fast to hold back and his voice turned to a miserable emotion-hitched tone of pain. "With you, Ashton. With you!"

There was a moment of brief hesitation. "How'd... you find out?" Curiosity, yet no guilt. He didn't care how Michael felt, and those simple words—spoke so calmly—gave Michael all the evidence he needed.