Yeah, I'm EVIL. What's your POINT? (NEVER GOING TO FINISH)

Yeah, I'm EVIL. What's your POINT? (2)

Yeah, I'm EVIL. What's your POINT?!

Chapter 2

The boy in black sat quietly in the back of the bus, moping about a bad grade in math class. It wasn't his fault he hadn't studied. His foster mom had him up all night baby sitting his little foster sister while she went on a date. Normally he would have studied while she watched blues clues or Barny, but she was really hyper that night and refused to sit still.

"Hey! Chris! catch!" Jackson marshal chucked a football at his head and he almost didn't catch it. Silly Jackson Marshal. You can't beat Chris Rogers at anything that had to do with throwing catching or, well, anything athletic. Chris was the school's best jock. Jackson was the school's second best jock. You'd think they'd be best friends, wouldn't you? well they weren't. Why? because, they had less in common than a watermelon and a tennis shoe. Sure they were both jocks. Sure they could both get any girl they wanted in the whole school. And sure they were both fully capable bringing their football team to the championships, but I could tell you at least five things right now that are totally different about them.

first off, Jackson had a girlfriend. Chris did not. Sure Chris could have a girlfriend if he wanted, and he'd been asked out several times, but he felt as though he needed to focus on mental and physical training. secondly, Jackson was also popular, and-you guessed it- Chris wasn't. Again, Chris could be the most popular guy in school if he wanted, he had the looks and the skills but he was lacking the personality. he liked being secluded. He would talk to someone when they talked to them, but he never started the conversation. Next, Chris was a nice boy and Jackson, well, he was sort of a jerk. He went around knocking books out of girls hands so they would bend over and pushing the smart kids around. That brings us to the next reason Chris and Jackson could never be friends. Brains. Chris had an A+ average in all of his classes where as Jackson was passing by the skin of his teeth. Finally, Chris was an ex-agent for the FBI. yeah, that would drive a hole in anyone's friendship.

So, no, Jackson and Chris were not friends. They were acquaintances and maybe even allies, but never friends. Chris threw the ball back and it hit Jackson in the face. all of his equally stupid buddies started howling in laughter at the red target now painted on Jackson's face. Chris couldn't help but quietly chuckle. Then he went back to brooding. His glossy brown hair fell over his eyes and he flipped it out of his way. Gazing out the window, he watched as the neighborhoods whizzed past. The bus slowed down at a stop sign but didn't stop. While picking up speed again, they passed a neighborhood of plain white cookie cutter houses.

Laying in the road leading into the neighborhood, was a girl. Or at least she looked like a girl. It was hard to tell because whatever it was covered in a dark red liquid that was also pooling around it. Blood, his mind told him. His protective instincts kicked in and he yelled, "STOP THE BUS!" He shot up out of his seat and to the front of the bus. The driver screeched to a stop as soon as she realized he was out of his seat. They had passed the body by about 50 yards and he felt like he needed to make up that lost time. He turned to the door of the bus, ignoring the driver's angry yelling, and kicked it open. There was a collective gasp from the back of the bus as the glass door shattered and he jumped out.

He sprinted, as fast as his long legs would carry him, back to the body. When he got there, he found that it was in fact a girl. She was laying face flat on the pavement with a deep slice in her side and blood still oozing out of it. He turned her over and gasped. Melanie. Oh god, it was Melanie. She had gone missing almost a whole year ago and he found her covered in blood. someone would pay for this. He scraped her hair away from her eyes and slapped her face a few times.

"What're you doing that for?" Jackson ran up behind him and kneeled next to her body on her other side. "She's already dead." Her fingers twitched slightly in Chris's grasp and he knew it wasn't to late. He hoisted her into his arms and walked quickly back to the waiting bus. "Dude! what are you doing? She's dead. just call the police!"

"She isn't dead. not yet. Mel's a fighter." Chris said through his teeth, almost to himself.

"Whoa, you know this chick?" Jackson asked. "From where?!"

"Shut up Jackson." Chris muttered. He climbed the steps of the bus carefully, trying not to reopen the still oozing wound. "Drive." he said sternly. When the bus driver saw Mel in his arms she let out a sharp gasp. then the students saw her. The majority of the bus just made unintelligible noises, but a select few even fainted. The bus remained stationary. "DRIVE."

The driver snapped herself out of it and asked, "Where? Where do we go?"

Chris thought for a moment before saying, "The hospital. The one on elm street. drive us there. now. fast." he sat down in the front seat and set Melanie down next to him. The bus pulled away at full speed as the bus driver raced to get the bus to the hospital. Chris was very aware that most of the conscious students were staring at him, but he ignored them without difficulty. He pulled off his now blood stained tee-shirt and balled it up. There were a few gasps from desperate girls as he exposed his well muscled chest and stomach. he dabbed his shirt across Mel's wound trying to blot up some of the blood so he could have a better view of the wound. he didn't see much before it started to bleed again, but, from what he saw, it was a really deep graze. probably from a bullet.

Somebody shot her.

The bleeding got heavier and he pressed the shirt to the wound to slow the bleeding. The bus slowed down and came to a stop. It was to soon to already be at the hospital. "Why are we stopping?" he asked harshly.

"There's a stoplight." said the bus driver weakly.

"Run it." replied Chris. "We need to get this girl to the hospital."

"But there's a police officer right there." She said pointing towards a traffic patrol car on the side of the road.

"We'll deal with him later. Run it."

The bus driver glanced back at Mel's deteriorating condition and nodded determinedly. She started forewords and drove through the stoplight, peeling past other cars and trucks, and leaving the officer in the dust. Chris went back to focusing on Mel. Her face was very pale and seemed to continue getting whiter. He tried slapping her cheeks again. This time he didn't even get a twitch. He pushed his first and second fingers against her jugular vein to feel for a pulse. There was a pulse there for sure but it was very faint. "HURRY UP!" He yelled to the bus driver. She pushed the gas pedal down to the floor. The bus was going way above the speed limit and cars were swerving out of the way.

Just minutes later they arrived in the emergency room parking lot. "Drop me off." Chris said. The bus driver opened her mouth to say something but Chris interrupted her. "Drop me off." He said more sternly this time. She opened the door to the bus reluctantly and Chris pulled Melanie back into his arms. He walked carefully down the steps and off the bus. It was windy outside that day and he was hyperaware of his being half naked. Her blood was wet against his abs and he shivered. He heard the bus pull away behind him and started at a quick walk to the front doors. He kicked the doors open and yelled for help.

Immediately, four doctors ran out to meet him and started asking him numerous questions. The only ones he could answer were her name and birthday. They brought out a buggy and he placed her gently onto it. They rushed her away from him and he reluctantly let his hand slide away from her hair.

Now it was a waiting game.

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