Replay {Skephalo}

28 | Preparation

. "I'll always love you Zak, never forget that." .

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This chapter is the last before commencing the 'endgame' of Replay. This means that the events following AFTER this chapter all revolve around the end of the book.
Love ya <3 ~ Owl

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-Zak's POV-

"Zak!"

I hear the voice of my best friend echo down the hallway as I walk towards the baseball pitch. Vincent rushes towards me, hugging me tightly in his arms. "I've missed you! Are you okay? What happened?" I'm bombarded with questions as the taller boy hugs me tighter, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Yeah I'm fine. Or at least I would be if I could breathe properly" I wheeze, pushing his arms away. Vincent jumps back, looking a lot paler than he did last time. "Oh sorry! I was worried ok!" It's a little strange to see how much concern is behind his words, he tends to not be such a worrier. Saying that, his best friend did get stabbed.

His eyes trail to my forehead, brushing my hair aside slightly to better observe the wound. "Oh my god. Did Zelk do that to you?" he asks, mouth hanging open. He gags a little, and I push his hand away. "Yeah. It's ok though, I'm fine I swear."

Vincent's complexion is so pale he's almost matching the white walls surrounding us. "You ok?" I ask slowly, flattening my hair. He gags once more, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth. "Yeah..." he mutters, far too quietly to be convincing.

I roll my eyes, attempting to hide the panic rising inside of me. "Yeah, no. I don't buy that shit for a second Vin. Let's head to the bathrooms." The French boy nods at me, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the hall in the direction of the first floor bathrooms.

The bathrooms are thankfully empty, everyone having departed almost half an hour ago. Vincent rushes into one of the cubicles, dropping his bag beside a sink. He vomits into the toilet, blood and blue flower petals scattering the walls.

I sit on top of a cabinet in the corner, cringing with fingers in my ears as I try to block out the noise. The sight of the blood alone floods my head with memories of Saturday night. Vincent's blood soaks the cubicle walls just as Darryl's soaked the apartment ones. Images flash of Darryl on the floor, unconscious with blood spilling out across the floor.

The look on his face...

I scrunch my eyes, willing the memories to fade. Suddenly I lack his company. Part of me hopes that any second I'll be scooped up into his arms, enveloped in safety. But he's not here now, I need to do this on my own.

Who am I kidding I need help.

No, my best friend needs help.

I snap out of my thoughts to hear gagging. No, choking.

Vincent is choking.

I leap down from the cabinet, dashing towards the end cubicle. My thoughts are invaded by memories of the last cubicle back at the party, the way that room was destroyed by blood.

So, so much blood.

I reach Vincent, his hands around his throat as the colour drains from his face. Kneeling beside him, I thump his back a couple times. He chokes out an almost full flower. It's a blue daisy, the head of the flower almost complete. Spots of blood stick to it's petals, covering the blue in a red tinge.

Vincent's eyes widen at the flower, the colour slowly returning to his face. "You alright?" I ask quietly. A dumb question I know, but I can't think of anything else to say. He nods, reaching out a hand to flush the toilet. A few flowers and petals are scattered around us, which he picks us and throws into the toilet. I watch the blood disappears, feeling sick from how much there was.