I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Have you ever wondered exactly what happens after we die?

All these victims we killed, are they just dead bodies in the ground, never again to see the light of day? Or have they moved onto a different place? Is there a different place? Or are they forever bound to the earth for an eternity? Is there heaven or hell? Or are we all just fucked when we die?

This was basically the content of Ryan and mines conversation. One of the few things we disagree on: the afterlife.

"It just doesn't make any sense." Ryan said.

"It doesn't have to. We humans obviously don't know everything. Despite everything else that's happened in my past, I was still raised Mormon, and although I don't agree with the majority of the things said in the religion, this is one of those few things that just makes sense." I argued.

He gave me a strange look. "How?" he asked. "How does a living dead make sense?" he questioned.

"Because," I started. "What’s the purpose of living then? If we're just going to drop dead one day and become compost, then why not just kill ourselves now? There's got to be something else out there." I said.

"Human instinct. We'll do anything we can to survive. And its not like I value human life much anyway… obviously…" he mumbled.

"Really?" I questioned.

"Well I value my life, and I value yours obviously, but other then that, I don't really give a fuck. As long as it doesn't effect me. Selfish I know, but that's just another human instinct. We would have made it this far without it. And what about you? If you value life so much, then why are you a murderer?" he challenged.

"I value the life of people who deserve it. But there are people who I think just don't deserve to live. People like drunks and homophobes." I mumbled.

He sighed. "Brendon, I don't feel like arguing."

"Well you started it." I mumbled.

He chuckled lightly and placed his hand on my cheek, and gazed into my eyes.

"Look Bren, what happens when we die doesn't matter right now. Because we're here, and were together, and nothing can stop that. Stop us. And I think I…" he trailed off.

"You what?" I prompted.

"Never mind. It's not important. I think I have a better idea… rather then arguing that is." He said grabbing my hand and leaning closer.

"Oh, and what is that?" I smirked.

He chuckled and leaned in closer, pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his waist and deepened the kiss. I backed him up against the bed, and then we toppled over, him underneath me.

His hands traveled down to my hips when suddenly I heard a scream, which caused me to pull away.

"What was that?" I asked.

"What was what? I didn't hear anything.” he said.

I quickly climbed off of him and went to the window. I glanced out, and through the window of the next house, I could see a couple arguing. The woman was clutching her stomach in pain, and the man continuously screamed at her. I'm sure I heard the word whore.

"He's drunk." Ryan said, appearing next to me. "Look at how he's stumbling, and how he doesn't seem to have control of his body."

There was silence as the woman stormed out of the house, and the man managed to throw something at the wall breaking it.

"You know, if we kill him then we have to leave immediately. And we have to Bring Spencer with us." I said.

"I know. But we can't bring Spencer with us." he mumbled. "Not immediately at least. If the cops come and find a dead body, and Spencer is nowhere to be found, then they'll assume he's in on it too. And that would just complicate things." he explained.

"So what do you suggest we do? Let him go?" I asked.

"No, if he's trustworthy, then maybe he can stay here for a while and play innocent, then when things lighten up, we could come back for him, or he could join us where ever we are."

"I'm sure we can trust him. I feel like he's more of a partner now then a hostage." I explained. "And I know Spencer owns a place up in New York. We can probably stay there for a while." I said.

"Okay, well, I think Spencer is in the shower, so let's hurry and get this done, pack, and then go."

~*~

Ryan’s POV

The man sat quietly on his recliner, staring at the television. We had managed to break in through the window without him noticing us. I stood quietly against a wall out of his view, while Brendon quietly snuck over, crouching behind the chair.

The man still hadn’t noticed.

I began to wonder why he hadn’t moved, until I realized that he had fallen asleep. Or passed out. Either way, it makes our job easier. But what’s the fun in that?

Brendon gave me a cute mischievous grin before springing up and clasping his hand over the man’s mouth. The man woke up and immediately began thrashing until Brendon pulled out the knife and held it against his throat.

“Do you know what I hate Ryan?” he asked.

I emerged from the dark area that hid me, and the man’s eyes widened even more in fear.

“What might that be Brendon?” I asked with the same amused grin he held on his face.

“Well I hate a lot of things. But one thing I hate more then anything would have to be ugly wife beaters.”

I chuckled at the mans expression. Its always fun to play with our victims a bit before getting right down to it. Mess with their minds a little bit.

“Don’t you also like giving second chances?” I asked, standing in front of the man.

Brendon flashed me a grin before slicing the mans throat.

“Nope.” He said.

The man’s body fell limp as the blood spilled over into Brendon’s hands.

I chuckled and pulled out my own knife.

“Alright. Lets clean this up. I think we should go all freaky horror movie on this one and stick his head in the freezer.” I suggested.

“That sounds exciting.” He agreed. But we’re running out of time, so we’re going to have to be quick and just throw the rest of the limbs and his torso in the bathtub.

I laughed. Okay.

~*~

“Wait, what? You killed my neighbor! You killed Justin!?” Spencer exclaimed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Well, not really, but I don’t really know what else to say in this situation.” Brendon said.

Spencer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you can stay there. But I’m coming with you. I don’t want to be left here to deal with this by myself. I’ll just call my aunt and tell her I’m stopping by for an unexpected visit, and I’m planning on staying up in New York for a while. That way there’s no suspicions. But I’m coming nonetheless.” He explained.

I sighed. “Alright. Fine. Whatever. We should start packing.”