I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

Cyrus Sinclair wasn't a violent person by nature, in fact, he hated violence as a child. It was that fateful August day in elemtary school that made the purest dove turn black.

"C'mon you little pussy, if you want it, take it!" shouted the bully.

"Gimme it!" Cyrus pleaded, jumping up and down to get his dead mothers locket back.

The bully had seen Cyrus gazing at his deceased mothers locket, tracing her small color picture with his finger during class. The bully knew this was Cyrus's weak point, his family.
At recess, the ten year old boy sought out the seven year old Cyrus on the playground and confronted him.

"Hey shitface! You crying again?!" the bully said as he pushed Cyrus into the sand.

Cyrus went to back up, but the bully and his gang encircled him, pushing him back down.
Cyrus's locket fell out of his pocket and into the sand, the bullies dove upon it like starving dogs over bones. They let Cyrus back up, taunting him over and over, occasionally kicking and pushing him.

"C'mon sissy Cyrus, if you really loved your mommy, you'd come and rescue her!" one bully said.

"Yeah, you don't want her to get killed again do ya?!" another one jeered.

"Stop it! Give it to me!" Cyrus cried out as they tossed it back and forth, always out of reach.

"What're you gonna do fag?! What if I did this?!" the bully exclaimed, dropping the locket and stomping down hard.

Glass broke, thin sterling silver bent and dented, the picture was ruined.
The boys laughed as Cyrus knelt before his last remainder of the only woman whoever loved him.
As the bullies laughed, Cyrus rose to his feet.....

Ophelia was silent for most of the ride, she was still mad at him. Cyrus hated it when she was pissed and gave him the silent treatment. They had gotten the car didn't they? Who cared how it had to be done, they had to keep moving. Cyrus reached over a casual hand, to caress her leg, but she moved away from him.

"Tch, fine! Be a bitch than! You can forget about us making a bathroom stop at the next town if you keep this up! Don't blame me for the fuck up okay?!"

Ophelia shook her head in silent resentment, Cyrus grit his teeth in frustration.

"What the fuck is your problem?! We're in this together right?! Why else would you have me do those horrible things to those people?!" Ophelia finally said, still not looking at Cyrus.

"What?! Excuse me, but last time I checked, you were the one bludgeoning that man for his car keys at the rest stop! All I did was kill a few people in the bathroom for some cash! You're just as sick as I am, at least I slit their throats and stabbed them, you beat that man with a tire iron!"

Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest, still shaking her head in mute disagreement.

"What the fuck ever! If I knew you were gonna be all emotional about this, I'd have given you one of the guns from the trunk! But no, it would have been too loud, and the cops could have caught us right?!" Cyrus continued as he dug through his pockets for a cigarette.

"Right breast pocket..." Ophelia said plainly, not even looking in his direction.

Cyrus fished out a bent stale cigarette, lit it, and rolled down a window to let the cool September breeze in.

Silence wrapped the car, no words spoken, only driving and silence.

"Here, " Cyrus said, breaking the silence, "Take my hand in yours babe. I love you, and I swear by your icy blue eyes, that when I said we can take to the highway with this trunk of ammunition, I would gladly end my days with you in a hail of bullets. That is how much I love you Ophelia Newton."

Ophelia resisted at first, but finally accepted his rough callused hand into her softer velvety one.

"You think your parents will worry? Y'know, you being gone and all?"

Cyrus stifled a laugh with a smirk, "Never! My mother is dead, my step-mother is dead, and my father is dead. I would have gotten my little sister and brother, but they escaped through the window, little shits.."

Ophelia frowned at this. She knew what she had gotten herself into, and she wasn't afraid. She was doubtful though, of what her lovers intentions were for her. This man, whom she met one day while he was dumping her garbage into the compactor of his company truck, stole her heart as well as innocence. There was something about this rough man, this demoliton lover of hers. She'd sneak out for him, he'd buy her cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, whatever. She had never killed anyone until she met him.

He had killed his own family. He had been in and out of orphanages and foster homes, until his father took him back in, only with a new step-mother. He hated them, his father remarrying after his mother had been raped and murdered in a lonesome dirty corner store parking lot, with a cop only 20 feet away! The cop never saw or heard anything, hard to do when you're getting a BJ from the town whore.

When Cyrus moved back in with his father, he was put on lockdown. It was too much for a 19 year old to handle, and he was already unstable. His father didn't renew is perscription of anti-psychotics, so he fell even deeper into the haze of hatred. Then it happened, one night Cyrus crept into his parents room and crushed his fathers head with his prize bowling ball. His step-mother, he savaged her genitalia with a pair of garden sheers and gutted her open with an electric carver. He went to his step-brother and sisters rooms, to finish off the "Unclean blood siblings", but they had escaped to a neighbors house. He himself, escaped and ran to Ophelia's house, where she snuck him in.

After hours of sex, drugs, and alcohol, Cyrus convinced Ophelia to kill off her family as well.
Twelve claw hammer strikes, five blows from a blunt object, and over ninety stab wounds later, the two set out on a great adventure called "Killing spree". They took her fathers firearm and ammunition collection and stuffed it into the trunk of the family station wagon.
They would only get eighty miles before the car crapped out on them. Instead of hitchhiking, they would lay out on the side of the road, playing possum. When a wary and concerned motorist appeared to inspect the scene, they would be ambushed, robbed, and killed. The two would then switch vehicles, this they did continuously throughout their trek through the Badlands. By now, their infamous acts and deeds made it in the media. They became known as "The Demolition Lovers".