Hand Me My Gun

"You're not leaving this house," Jack's dad's voice boomed through the door I was leaning against. "You will not be going anywhere with that faggot-ass, piece of shit!"
I cringed slightly at the words, but shrugged them off; some people were just homophobes - it didn't matter what some douchebag redneck thought of me.
"I'm leaving!" Jack's voice was shrill with pain as he stomped around whatever room they were in.
I pressed my ear against the front door to hear better. The cool early morning breeze made my loose shirt quiver gently, and my bare arms were sprinkled with goosebumps. My shoes were muddy from circling Jack's house, in an attempt to stay hidden, and my eyes were wide from the horror of discovering that his parents' had been so terrified of him not returning home last night, they stayed in to ensure they knew he was safe.
"Jack!" His mother was so... Whiney. It was pitiful, really, and I could just imagine her draping her frail body over his tanned arms. She wasn't much of a maternal woman; she was more like the type of girl you'd take home to fuck, so when she left the next morning everyone would see how high your standards were.
"Mom, get off of me."
I leaned the palms of my hands against the mahogany door to restrain myself; he'd been in there for a while, and I was growing worried.
"Don't talk to your mother like that!"
"Oh, but you can?"
I scrunched my eyes together and had to bite my tongue until I could taste blood. Jack's dad was an abusive prick that took out his failure of amounting to anything out on his wife and only child. Its what happens when you get everything handed to you on a silver platter and can never live up to the legacy your daddy created. Everything in his life always reeked of an anticlimax, from his wife to the hatred his son felt for him, which was exactly why I knew Jack needed to get out of there as fast as he could.
"Don't you fucking talk to me like that, you little shit!" The sound of glass breaking was audible. "You're nothing. You'll never be anything. Now just shut the fuck up and get your worthless ass upstairs."
The sound of Mrs. Barakat's sobs were enough for me to want to fuck her up myself, but no woman deserved that.
I clenched my teeth and tugged at my hair painfully, until a few strands began to pop out. I let out a string of curses as I waited for something to happen, knowing my entrance would ensure a magnificently disastrous ending.
Footsteps were heard after a while, and soon faded. I waited, eyes wide and breath caught in my throat, and stared at the door in horror. I needed to know what was going on.
I reached into my back pocket for my phone, but the sound of heavy footsteps made me hesitate.
"What the fuck are you-" a slight popping sound cut him off, and then there was a thump.
I reached for the door handle but froze; what was I going to do? What could I say? Jack's dad had the upper body of a bull; I could never physically beat him.

"You don't love me," I heard Jack's sombre voice echo through the house.
A shattering scream broke the atmosphere, and ended abruptly.
"You never loved me."
I tensed at his tone; he sounded so controlled, so sober and sure - he wasn't the indecisive push-over his dad had been pushing around for years.
"I hate you."
There was another popping sound, followed by pained groans and sobs.
"I hate what you did to me."
Another pop. The sound made my heart jump with fright. My eyes darted around, and I found myself battling to breathe. What was going on?
"Did you even think of me?"
Another light pop. Where was that sound coming from? The streets were empty, along with all the houses in the upper-class neighbourhood; no one was hearing a word of it except for me.
"What's that? You're choking?"
My eyes widened in horror, and my knees suddenly felt weak. Where was my sweet Jack? Who was this angry, monotoned person? Who was choking?
"Bet you didn't know I loved him."
POP. I cringed. My feet wouldn't move, and my limbs felt like stone; heavy and immobile.
"Couldn't handle the idea of someone
actually loving me, huh?"
I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding and reached out for the handle, forcing my trembling fingers to work. They curled around the shiny metal, and I had to use my entire body weight to push it down.
"Now we can both be dead."
I stumbled through the large door and was met by porcelain tiles, a high ceiling and glittering chandelier. I didn't give a shit how beautiful some interior designer had made their house - I needed to find Jack.
The sound of broken sobs came from the room I knew to be their living room, if you'd even call it that.
My heart hammered in my chest painfully, and my lungs ached from the lack of air I'd supplied them with. My feet made echoing noises as they slammed across the polished floors, but I didn't care; being discreet and subtle wasn't on my agenda anymore.
"Jack!" I called as I reached the room his sobs were coming from.
His body was curled into a fatal position, and his black shirt clung to his body as his chest heaved up and down.
"Jack," I cooed, dropping to my knees. I crawled to his body and reached out towards him.
His face wasn't visible, only his dark mop of hair.
"Jack," I spoke as soothingly as possible, trying to suppress my confusion and fear. It came out more urgently than I wanted to, and soon he was curling into himself even further.
"What happened?" I ran my eyes over his shivering body, suddenly aware of how cold the tiles were, and how violently he was shaking. "Talk to me," I pleaded, rubbing his head.
I caught a glimpse of my hand, and couldn't help the gasp that escaped from my lips. I could feel my eyes widening in horror as I took in the red hue that was smeared across my skin. "Jack?" I gasped.
My eyes darted to his hidden face, and then slowly moved to the opposite side of the room. A shrill shriek forced its way out of my mouth. I backed away, still on my hands and knees, and left a trail of red along the clear tiles.
I tried to open my mouth, but nothing would come out. My eyes burned with unshed tears, and my chest tightened with fear.
"I didn't mean to," Jack whispered, his voice clear as day. "I didn't mean to kill them."
His eyes met mine, and I couldn't help pressing myself against the wall harder.
"I didn't..." He trailed, his voice breaking as tears escaped his large eyes.
I couldn't help but look back at the scene that lay before me; two lifeless bodies, two intertwining puddles of red liquid - two deaths.
A gun sat on the opposite side of the room tauntingly, glistening with red liquid.
"What happened?" I shocked myself with the easiness of my tone. I couldn't help staring at the red patterns that decorated the cream walls and white leather couches, breaking the entire gentle theme of the house, breaking the gentle theme of the family.
"Its my dad's gun," Jack stared at the metal device like it was the devil himself. "I knew where he kept it, and I knew how to use the silencer," he sounded bitter with regret.
"Why?" I wasn't asking about the gun.
"Its been seventeen years of this shit," his voice broke as he fought back a sob. "My mom wasn't supposed to walk in."
I stared at the horrific sight of two dead, murdered people. "So you killed them?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.
Jack was silent for a moment before he slowly heaved his body up. He made his way to me, legs trembling, and got down to his knees cautiously. He crawled until he was positioned in front of me, eyes wide and baring a million emotions. "I'm sorry," he spoke in a tiny, trembling voice. "Alex, I'm so sorry."
I stared into his eyes. I knew things would never be the same; I knew he would be wanted. I knew he was a murderer. I knew they'd eventually find him. "Shh," I reached out for his neck and drew his head to my chest. I knew I should have been afraid of him, and not afraid of losing him.
"I killed them," he sobbed, burying his streaked face into my chest. His body shook with his breathing.
"I know," I soothed, rubbing his sticky hair gently. My heart felt cold, but I knew he would warm it again. I knew he was the boy I loved. I knew we were going to make our great escape. I knew it had only been a matter of time before he snapped. "Hey," I lifted his head so he could look into my face. I hoped my eyes weren't as hollow as I felt. "Let's get out of here. Let's start our lives."
He sniffed delicately before nodding his head. "Our lives," he repeated.