In Love and Death

Revenge. 

Instead of feeling afraid, what he now felt was a terrible, burning hate. He wanted to make them pay. He wanted to make them feel the pain he'd felt. The memories of his everyday torments floated around his brain, bitter, stinging, making it almost unbearable and fueling his thirst. 

How could they? How could they make his life a living hell just for the fun of it? Did they feel no remorse at all, after everything they'd done to him?

Pain. The pain was a major factor, too. It accumulated around the edge of his consciousness until he couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something, anything to stop it. 

And slowly, the outline of a dark, menacing idea began to form in his mind. 

He knew what to do, and he was absolutely certain he was going to do it. 

***

Sam poured into the school along with all the other students, head down, trying very hard not to get noticed. It wasn't difficult. If he had a talent, it was the ability to make other people overlook him completely. 

It wasn't so much for the rest of the students. He was fairly certain none of them even knew who he was. However, if he happened to run into Jake... let's just say his plan would have met its end instantly. 

So he shuffled along the hallway inconspicuously, head bent down and dark hair hiding most of his face.  He found his locker and started unpacking his schoolbag into it... as though it carried no more than a few innocent books. 

He knew, however, that they'd notice him soon enough. His blending-into-the-landscape skills never seemed to work with them, perhaps due to the fact that they looked for him purposefully. Like the hunter and the hunter. 

Only, this time... it'd be different. 

His heart nearly pounced out of his chest with adrenaline when he felt a tap on the shoulder, and he didn't have to look to know who it was. But no, he wasn't hiding from them, not today. 

So, slowly, he turned around until he was staring his rapist in the face. 

Seeing him so calm and collected, Sam's hatred flared to unexpected limits. How was it possible?, he asked himself for the hundredth time. These people had hurt him more than anyone had in his entire life. How was it that they could even look him in the eyes? Didn't they see the pain in them, the pain that they themselves had caused? Or was that just part of the fun?

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the look they gave him: a sneering, contemptuous look and a matching smile that told him they were more than willing to hurt him again. 

And he was just unable to bear it. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, and without turning around, his hand went into the locker behind him and found the object all his plan depended on. He grasped it firmly and brought it to his side, lifting it up. 

It was a gun. A loaded one. 

He saw the sneer in the other boy's eyes freeze and turn into an overwhelming terror, but it didn't stop him. At that point, nothing could. 

And with a perfectly steady grip, he raised the gun, aimed it in between the boy's eyes and pulled the trigger. 

***

Screams of terror ringing in his ears. The steady gush of blood from the bodies, coating the floor and making people slip as they ran from him, panic-stricken. 

They were too late. They were all too late. 

Body after body collapsed as he aimed at them and shot. It didn't matter who. He couldn't see anymore, couldn't see the faces of the people he was ripping from life...

The only thing he knew was that, with each life he severed, the terrible pain eating away at him dulled momentarily. 

He blinked. Where had everyone gone? For the first time, he noticed the dozens of corpses strewn on the floor around him. 

Had he killed them all?

No. No, he hadn't. There was still a single figure standing there. Sam didn't stop to wonder why they hadn't fled already or to notice the fact that they were running towards him instead of from him. And, by the time he did, it was too late. 

A single shot was fired across the corridor-

"Sam, no, wait-"

And as Sam realized who the voice belonged to, the entire world seemed to freeze over. 

But there was absolutely nothing he could do. Nothing except watch, horrified, as the figure crumpled to the ground, blood seeping out of the bullet hole on his chest. 

His lips formed the name, but no sound came out. Even though the word was echoing in every corner of his consciousness. 

Jake. 

And the realization of what he'd done slammed into him like a ton of bricks. 

The walls swayed around him as he ran towards him, slipping on the blood that coated the floor. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. 

What had he done?

He collapsed to his knees beside Jake, trembling uncontrollably, still in total shock. The older boy's blue eyes were open, looking at him with bewilderment in his eyes. And right in the middle of his chest, oozing blood, was a small, perfectly round hole. 

And Sam knew, even though he refused to acknowledge it, that it was the wound that would kill him. 

"Jake. Jake, I'm... I'm so sorry..."

The words felt hollow and empty, even to himself. Sorry. Being sorry meant absolutely nothing. 

Jake just shook his head, painfully, and tried to prop himself up on his elbows. Sam's arms caught him as he was about to fall again and held him close to his chest, cradling him. Their eyes met - clear blue and tear-filled dark brown - and then Jake opened his mouth to speak, three small words that made his heart shatter. 

"I love you."

Sam didn't deserve it. No, he didn't deserve it at all. He didn't deserve to be loved. But he had to reply. He had to say it before it was too late. 

"I... I love you too, Jake."

Something similar to the faint shadow of a smile appeared on Jake's lips. Weakly, his hand rose up to rest on Sam's cheek, and he kissed him like he'd never kissed anyone before. Sam responded, passionately, closing his eyes and willing the moment to stay still forever... but then it was over, and Jake's hand dropped down, his body went limp as he exhaled one final breath... and his heart became still. Forever. 

Sam didn't scream. He didn't cry. He only smiled slightly, because he knew what was coming next and he'd already embraced it. Wasn't this what he'd planned all along?

Hesitatingly, his hand found the gun again, which had been carelessly discarded on the floor. He lifted it up into the air and brought it to rest at his temple. 

There was no other choice. 

His eyes screwed shut... an eternal second of tension... and he pulled the trigger. 

Bang.

The gunshot echoed across the hallway, and Sam collapsed as the strings that held him to life were cut instantly, mercifully, freeing him... for the rest of eternity. 

And then only the bodies remained - two teenage boys, lying in a hallway of death and in each other's arms in a final, still embrace.