The Goth and His Psycho.

The Goth and His Psycho: [Chapter Twenty Seven]

  Alex looked on at the massacre. He'd heard the screaming, her screams, and had sprinted back before he'd even realised what had been going on. He knew it was silly, but he'd done it anyway, he'd run back to her, in the general direction he'd been stumbling from, and then he'd heard the shots, and he'd never ran so fast in his life. 

  He'd stopped himself on a tree, unable to barrel into the clearing as he saw the blood. He panted there, eyes wide, taking in the broken bodies. He didn't know if any of them were moving. They couldn't be. 

  Bree leant up against a tree too, and to his horror there was a knife sticking out of her thigh. Blood was seeping down her jeans, staining the fabric dark, but Bree didn't seem to notice. Instead she leant her head back against the bark and closed her eyes, and for a long moment Alex thought she was crying, and stood in order to move towards her, comfort her, like he always did. 

  But then she began to shake, her shoulders heaving as she gasped, not gasped because she was crying, but gasped because she was laughing. 

  A chill ran down Alex's spine as he heard the insane noise ripping its way up her throat, her mouth wide open and glee dancing from between her lips. She was dripping in blood and she was laughing. 

  A gun dangled from her fingertips, and when he looked he found Dylan on the floor, bullet wounds to the chest and stomach. He wasn't moving. 

  Alex was scared to step forward, but he had to. Surely, they would figure something out. The two of them would get out of there, get Bree help for her wounds and then they would leave. Take a car and just drive somewhere. Somewhere very far away, where the news of Bree Treven would be no different from the rest of the crazy shit in the world. No one would find her. No one would find them, because Alex was going with her wherever she went. 

  "Bree?" he stepped out from behind his tree and moved into the light of the fire. 

  Bree's head wrenched around to look at him, and there was tears in her eyes from her laughter. She was still chuckling, the joy dying in her face but still evident on her lips. Then she looked at him properly, at his wide, horrified eyes and greenish complexion, and the mirth died instantly. 

  "I had to kill him" she pointed at Dylan. "He was hurting me" 

  Alex looked at Dylan and believed it, he had been an asshole and a violent one at that. He liked watching people get hurt, and he liked doing the hurting just because he was big enough to do so. Dylan was a bully, and the way he'd looked at Bree earlier only enforced Alex's thoughts that he too was crazy. 

  But did the other boys deserve to die? Sure, they'd done nothing to stop Dylan from hurting him, had probably gone after Bree out of fear too, and Alex knew that not doing anything about the crime was almost as bad as committing the crime itself, but did they truly deserve to die? For being too scared to speak up? Even if they had enjoyed hurting people, was it really okay for someone to decide who lived and who died? 

  Alex didn't know, but looking at Bree told him only that she would argue if he pointed it out to her. Bree thought she had the right to decide, because of what she'd been through. Yes, of course, she knew how to spot a bad person better than most, knew how to sniff out the darkness in other's because she reeked of it herself, but that still didn't give her the right to decide. 

  "And the others'?" Alex pointed to the other boys "Did you have to kill them, too?" 

  Bree's eyes narrowed at the challenge in his voice, but a flash of hurt crossed her face for a moment. 

  "I didn't kill them" she sniffed indignantly. 

  Alex didn't believe that, and went about checking the boys for pulses. The first two he crossed, the cruel, large one, with his fingers bent back at a strange angle, was slumped on his side and bleeding, but breathing. The second one he tried had no pulse at all, and he checked several times, his arm too, was bent at a sharp angle, and Alex thought maybe his elbow had been snapped. The third was alive, despite a wound to his head. Alex turned him over so he wasn't lying in the dirt. The fourth was covered in blood, it washed down his face from a cut in his forehead, and when Alex bent to inspect the wound he saw that the skull was curved inwards ever so slightly.