The Pharaoh's Dagger (An Original Story)

This was my GCSE Narrative Writing piece. Got an A* for it. Hell knows why, as I've had to re-write half of it to make it readable. Enjoy~

WARNING: Character death. Murder. Suicide. Little it of gore. Also it's set in a halfway house type thing.

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I realised it was a mistake as soon as I turned the corner. A looming wall blocked my escape. I was trapped. I could've, should've  gone another way, taken one of the other corridors that lead to the dorms or the canteen. Either would've been safe. I would have been safe. As it was, my pursuer found me with ease. 

He advanced slowly, the light reflecting from the golden dagger in his hand and dancing mockingly on the walls that trapped me.

"Please," I whispered. "Don't do this."

"Logan," He replied gently. "I have to."

He had arrived at the halfway house in the middle of the night. The door had flown open to reveal a figure, sillouhetted by the raging storm outside. The boy had come in from the rain, dumped his bags on the floor, and collapsed on the sofa in a sodden heap.

Complete innocence had radiated from his face as he lay asleep on the tattered furniture. His shirt had ridden up, showing off his tanned midriff. Various golden bangles decorated his wrists, jingling as he squirmed slightly to get more comfortable.

He woke up to find a steaming mug of coffee on the table, and me smiling like an idiot sitting in the chair across from him. 

It took a while to get to know the boy who introduced himself as Mark. In an effort to make him open up, I told him all about my life - how I had found my parents dead when I was younger, both having 'committed suicide' though I was sure it had been murder. I'd found them mangled and twisted, entwined together. The sight would have been sweet, romantic even, if the kitchen knife hadn't been sticking out of my mum's chest and the pill bottle hadn't been clasped in my father's hand.

Mark finally opened up, and told me both his parents died in a car accident years ago. He blamed himself for the crash since he'd called them and told them to rush home. He'd had something important to show them, he'd said. It had been an anniversary surprise for them. Both his parents were very much into artifacts and relics, and he had managed to buy one (with his grandfather's help) and he just couldn't wait for them to see it.

They never did.

Mark and I were inseperable for the first few months, never leaving each others side. Our relationship with each other went from friends to lovers effortlessly. We were closer than close, and everything was..

Perfect. 

And then he turned up.

With his white hair and pale complexion, Rio couldn't have been more different from Mark. Yet I fell in love with him at first sight.

His large brown eyes were warm and welcoming unlike Mark's cold blue ones. His quiet hobbies of painting and drawing allowed me to relax around him, whereas Mark's hobby of inventing had me running around looking for scaps of metal and spare screws around the house.

So, one day, when Mark was too busy with his inventing to notice me leave, I went to meet Rio. I told him how I felt about him and he told me he felt the same way, that he hadn't felt this happy since his before his grandmother died, the only family he ever knew. But, I was still with Mark. Rio understood and told me to let him know as soon as I'd managed to tell Mark that I had feelings for someone else.

Bad choice.

Mark looked up at me as I entered his room, his eyes filled with childish joy at completing his latest invention.