It's Always a Fight Against Time

It all clicked in my mind. Well, sort of...

Shimmy, even with the mask there was no mistaking his voice and those eyes of his eyes.

It hurt terribly for me to know that my supposed friend had just tried to kill me.

And then he still has the nerve to show up at the hospital like… nothing, ever, happened.

He was supposed to be off at some race thing...

But it was strange; he didn't tell me much about it even before “leaving.” Shimmy however, is obviously the type of guy that is hyper and super talkative about the things he is in love with, racing being one.

Every other race he has had over the past few days (after the initial race being over and him being back home) he had talked nonstop about it. I had no clue whatsoever about what he was saying as he went on explaining every little thing he did wrong, what others did wrong, and a whole bunch of other stuff as well; but I just used to love listening to him get so excited. Watching his face light up and him basically bounce off the walls with energy reminded me of what fighting was is to me.

Although in this most recent “race” that he was supposedly “attending,” supposedly competing in- he didn't say anything. He seemed almost sad when he said he was leaving out of town. Now, after all of this shit, I highly doubt that there actually was a race. I doubt he even left the immediate area in LA. He planned this all, he had to have.

I loved him like a best friend...but not anymore.

How could he?

---------------

-Matt's pov-

I went outside multiple times trying to get a hold of Blaire, she really was worrying me. She always answers her phone when one of us calls or at least calls back within the the next few, following minutes. It was morning by now so she wouldn't still be sleeping, and I know none of us had done anything mean or rude to her, so I'm almost 100% sure she isn't ignoring us. Something is up...

It was around noon-ish, when no new news had been brought to our attention that I decided to try calling Shimmy. I already called Johnny and Zacky; they are on their way back to New York City.

And of course the Blaire thing was well...were it was; nowhere, helpless, hopeless, strange and completely entirely left up in the air.

Just as the call was about to go to voice mail, someone picked up.

“Matt?” Shimmy answered in a strangely saddened tone of voice. 'No hello, how are you? All I get is a, Matt?' I wondered.

“Yeah, what’s up? You don't seem as happy as you usually do for some reason.” Shimmy is always a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He's insane and is the perfect mixture of Jimmy and Ale. He's one of those kinds of guys that could cheer you up when having a bad day with a simple smile, wave and stupid ass joke that you later wonder why the hell you laughed at to begin with, because it really wasn't too funny at all. The way the ‘joke’ was told was what really made it funny, not the actual joke itself.

There was a long enough pause to make things uncomfortable. I thought I may have lost a signal and ultimately the call but he spoke making me become even more worried and confused than before.

“I... didn't... w-want to...” I could hear his shaky voice and the crack of it on some of those words.

“Want to, what Shimmy?” I asked in a demanding sort of voice, I was panicky. His demeanor from what I could tell over the phone, the tone and hidden emotion behind his voice, told me he screwed up big time...but how, why, what did he do?

“I-I'm s-s-sorry...” He choked out, I could hear a faint sob and the run of water in the background making me believe he was about to do something idiotic.

“Shimmy! What are you talking about?! Tell me! Why are you sorry, what are you doing?” I heard a clanking sound and then the last few words I thought I would ever hear from Shimmy.

“I...She...Blaire...my... I didn't... I'm sorry.” And then the phone went dead.

I paced on the sidewalk in front of the hospital; the air was getting colder… though I think that was just me.

Why was Shimmy talking like that? What did he do? His words were like a puzzle that no one could solve. It didn't make sense. Why was he sorry, why was he talking about Blaire? Did it have anything to do with why she wasn't picking up her cell phone?

My phone's ring tone brought me out of my thoughts.

“Hello?” I questioned in a mumble.

“Hey, what are you doing I've been trying to call for about a half hour. Did you get a hold of her?” It was Brian. He was calling from inside, he wasn't supposed to but hey we all are rebels at heart, right? Screw the rules, it was emergency, our using phones inside that is…

“No, I didn't, she still won’t answer. I'm getting really fucking worried. I tried Shimmy...”

“What'd he have to say?”

“Um, well... hold on, I'll be up in a few minutes.” I hung up and put my phone on vibrate before shoving it in my pocket and walking inside the automatic-opening doors. People looked at me strangely as they waited in the emergency room with nothing other to do than stare at the incoming people like rubberneckers, aka straining their necks to try and see something “exciting” which was none of their fucking business in the first place; as if I was exciting or a “must see” in any way.

Ignoring them is what I did, why stare at them all covered in blood, moaning in pain, ect. It made no sense, I was never one for pain as strange as it may seem. I'm a fighter but don't like the pain it puts me in. I do it for the adrenaline rush.

When I got back up to the floor of the ICU, I slumped down into the chair with a thump and groaned impatiently. This all was getting a little fucking ridiculous really. No one would tell any of us, anything at all so we just sat in the uncomfortable seats waiting for a miracle to happen and for someone to tell us something.

“Shimmy kept saying sorry for something, I'm worried about him and Blaire, Brian.” I said out of the blue after not speaking at all for a good 10 minutes. He just turned and looked at me incredulously.

“What do you mean; you don't think he's gonna...” He trailed off and I didn't say a word.
Shimmy, kill himself? Yeah, I didn't exactly think of it until this very moment, he didn't seem the type. Though they do say it’s the ones that are quiet and never talk about it that actually commit the act. He would be the perfect example really, all happy and fake on the outside. He would be more likely to do it than some other kid saying that they want to and constantly complain about how bad their life is... Suicide almost all the time is by the unlikeliest of people. A surprise really that leaves all to question why they did so.

Hell, I thought about it before, well not actually killing myself, but why people might and why they do. The ones who constantly think about it think of the pain they will endure, those who don't make a split decision out of sheer eagerness, chance... they don't think about the consequences or pain until it’s too late. They act on impulse without so much as a moment being even available for second-guessing themselves.

I hoped all of this was wrong, that Shimmy wasn't planning anything and that he would still be alive. Blaire needed him, without him she had no one out in LA really except the fuckin' bitchy punk ass kid that always seemed to be there with her, Lucas.

I growled inwardly, not fazed in even the slightest way that I had….

I hate him with such a passion, especially after what he has done to her.

Fucker.

---------

-Shimmy's pov-

“GET HIM OUT! GET THE POLICE!” Blaire screamed thrashing her arms around as Luca held her down.

“Shimmy get out!” Luca screamed with a sad, confused and sorry face.

Those words haunted me and probably will continue to, for the rest of my life. Luca had no clue what I had done; neither did Matt when I talked to him a half hour earlier. Both were and are still …clueless.

I left the hospital after Luca’s words were screamed and my heart felt like it was being smashed and poked with millions of little needless. Sinking to the ground in a nearby park I began sobbing.

I had no choice...I just… I had to... You don't understand, you just don’t get why. I didn't know she was pregnant... I swear to God… And now I...

My phone blasted Escape the Fate's “The Webs We Weave” and I knew it was my half-brother.

“D'you do it?” His voice snarled from the other end. I said nothing. “You fucking didn't, did you!” He screamed at me. “I told you what the consequences were Samuel...” He sneered in an intimidating sounding voice, threatening me.

“NO, DON'T Joel, please don't, I'm begging you!” I pleaded over and over trying to keep my half-brother from bringing the “consequences” about. I stopped when I heard someone yell his nickname, Grunge in the background.

“We'll be in touch.” he said before hanging up on me. I didn’t even get a chance to say another word.

I ran walked quickly back to my mother’s apartment, she was working so she wasn't home. I just needed to get cleaned up and try and calm down some, come up with a fucking plan of some sort! I pulled at my hair as I glanced in the bathroom’s mirror-

My half-brother Joel and Blaire's father wanted her dead. For a mutual reason; hate.

I was the one that had to do it, the person who was opted to do it. It was all planned from the beginning, from the time I met her in Pelican Bay until the final ‘act.’ I wasn't supposed to get involved with her…

My instructions were simple; get her to trust me and then finish it all. I wasn't supposed to fall for her and get as close as I did, that was my biggest mistake. I screwed with the then foolproof plan and look where that got us. She trusted me...

It hurts so fucking much inside to know I had no choice but to kill my best friend. It was all or nothing. Literally.

When I said 'no' to my brother and her father after getting to know her and that 'I wouldn't do it' all I got was threatened in reply. And that was whenever we still were in the Bay, I wasn’t even as close to her as I was now at that point in time.

Now that her father is in jail, Joel is in charge of it all… and he hates me with a passion. It wouldn't be right if he didn't try to make my life a fuckin' hell and the consequences proved it.

Couldn’t I get the ‘nice’ half brother instead of the conniving bastard of one I’m now stuck with?

If I didn't- (and I obviously couldn’t) they would kill everyone close to me...
My mom,
My ex-girlfriend Cristina and...
My, 18 month old son, Kristopher.
Then me, of course but by that time I would want to be anyways.

They would kill us all and then get someone else to kill Blaire as well. They were determined and would fucking find another way, you can’t question whether they would or not.

Call it selfish, my trying to kill her.

But I made sure that I didn't do it lethally, she would have lived, and I honestly knew she would. She was a fighter, she had been injured worse and lived; I knew everything about her. Every hospital visit, fight, the money she made, what her father had done to her...everything that has ever happened, everything possible. I knew it because of what I was made to do… Know your “enemy” although we both know she was anything but, still, she hates my guts now.

One thing I messed up on was that I didn't take the pregnancy into factor. That was easily the one thing I didn’t know about her.

She almost died, her heart stopped moments before the ambulance got to the apartment. I shouldn't have taken that phone, but then again I was ordered to-

I sobbed, my face bloodied with her blood that was on my hands while I anxiously and nervously rubbed at my skin.

It is all my fault; and now the one person (besides Kristopher) I actually love and want to be in my life hates me. She always will and I know that. Oddly, I understand and don’t mind that she does either.

I just hoped that she would let me talk to her and help her disappear. That was my next plan, the next part. I had it planned out until this all happened.

I figured she would have been thought of as dead but not actually be. She would be out of the city and could live her life elsewhere, safe. That was my second plan, the one I came up with after I started getting close to her and started to live with her.

But I screwed it up already.

If only she knew how sorry I was, if she knew why I had done it.