Landfill

"Help!"

We heard a voice; it was weak, faint and echoed in the warehouse.

"Help! Help me!"

"That's...that's," Ryan panted, "Bren...don."

Out bodies were weak, but I forced myself to move. I dragged ourselves towards where Shane had taken Brendon; behind the bright lights. I trudged hard, my energy was running low; "Brendon, can you move?" I called out to him.

"I'm hurt...I'm hurt bad. I'm gonna die, Nikki." Brendon's voice trembled and was growing tight.

"No you're not!" I cried out, feeling that woozy feeling in my body and head, "Just keep your eyes open and keep breathing, I'm coming."

As soon as we crossed over into the darkness, my body gave and Ryan and I fell to the floor. I could hear Brendon breathing heavily and muttering things to himself; I heard him say a name that was mangled in the mutters. I rolled onto my back and searched my pockets; my hands were caked with blood and were a bit slippery. I found my phone and began to dial 911; the screen was smeared with blood, the blue lightened numerals were darkened with blood, too. I put the phone to my ear, listening to the ring; it rang for only a second, "911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance, please, quick! I don't know the address...somewhere pass Flamingo. Please, my boyfriend and my friend are bleeding to death! Please!"

"I'm sending an ambulance, miss. Tell me what happened?"

My eyes were growing heavy, "Uh, I...I can't, I'm so tired." I rolled into my side, "Please, hurry..." My neck hurt and I could barely see.

"What are your names?" She asked, "Tell me so you don't pass out."

"Nikki Navarro," I swallowed, blood slid down my throat, "My boyfriend is Ryan...my friend is Brendon. Please," I begged tiredly, "They're losing blood."

"What happened, Nikki? Stay with me!"

"This crazy motherfucker stabbed me in the throat, Ryan in his lap and I can't see Brendon." I searched the darkness for Brendon, "Brendon, what'd Shane do to you?"

He didn't answer me. There wasn't anymore muttering. I felt sick, that huge wave of sickness, "Brendon?" Ryan muttered with a thick voice, "Brendon!"

"Please, Brendon," I began to cry, "Brendon answer me!"

Nothing but silence, and I knew that he was dead. I sobbed and dropped my phone; "I'm sorry." I began to chant in a heavy tone. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I reached for Ryan, feeling his arm, "Nick, I love you."

"I love you, too, Ryan." I licked my lips and sighed, "I don't want to go out this way. I'm suppose to go out like Hemingway...mentally ill with a shotgun to the head."

We both gave a soft laugh and then it grew silent. Ryan's hand found mine, the other fell onto my stomach. I could see his face a bit, I saw him lick his lips; "I wanted to start over...that's why," he panted, "I took the money and drugs. I wanted to change my name and then come get you. I wanted to change, I wanted to start over, Nikki, I never meant for this to happen."

"Me too." I mumbled. "Don't talk, okay? Just try and focus on staying awake, alright? Just do that for me, Ryan."

He squeezed my hand, "I'll try."

The room was quiet, the thick building must've been sound proof, we couldn't hear anything. I prayed for Brendon to rise and start muttering away. I prayed for the light to beam down on us so I could see Ryan. I think that's the last thing I wanted to see before I died. I wanted to see Ryan's face and make sure that he was the last thing I ever saw.

But, there was just darkness and bright lights away from me. I could see Shane's dead body if I turned my head; I did once and looked back at Ryan in the darkness. I wanted to scoot over and hold him, but my body was like jelly and I couldn't will my arms to pull me closer. I tugged his hand and kissed his palm, "I love you, Ry."

He sighed softly, "I love you, too, Nicole."

My eyelids forced themselves to close, I was exhausted to the point of no return. I prayed in my head that we would come out of this with scars. I wasn't sure if death would be alright anymore; I had thought of death when my 3rd book was a best seller. I could die, and wouldn't be miserable about it. Now, I wanted to live; I wanted light, I needed to see.

"I need to see your face before I die." I said to Ryan, but he didn't respond.

It was too quiet, my breathing was in my ears and nothing else.

"Ryan?" I wasn't panicked at first. "Ryan, did you hear me? It's too quiet."

The tears came bubbling over when I felt his hand limp in mine. I swallowed and dragged myself closer to him, "Ryan, can you hear me?"

I touched his face and felt warmth and wetness. I figured out that they were tears; I put my hand down the bridge of his nose and felt for his lips. I leaned over and kissed him, "Please." I begged for nothing, I couldn't think of anything other than please.

There was a loud bang a moment later and I didn't bother to look. I figured it was the police coming in, but by the single set of footsteps, I was wrong. I heard something along to the effects of, "That little bitch!" and more cursing. It was Freddy, and that's when I truly knew that it was over. I'd go out like Hemingway, in some sense; a bullet (or bullets) would end me.

"Where the fuck is she?" I heard next.

And then more pairs of footsteps came stumbling in. I wasn't sure who it could be then, because they didn't rush in to help. I heard some sputtering, but by then, I had given up trying to figure them all out.

"I'm gonna see if that little asshole is still back there," Freddy said this close to me. "Put that motherfucker in the chair! I'm gonna kill them all if it's the last goddamn thing I do."

Freddy began to run over, and then, like a twist of fate, he tripped over my legs and fell forward, his gun going off. He didn't move, and the other feet came running over calling out his name, "Freddy, man!"

They all came tumbling over Ryan and I, causing me to hiss and groan, "Fuck!" I grumbled.

There was 3 of them, and they all started to yell all at once. I pulled my hand from Ryan's and felt around me. I felt belts and dicks under trousers, making them all jump and roll away. I exhaled and got a hand on a knife from someone's waist. I don't know what I was thinking, but I just began to jab at whoever was close. I was angry, fury built by each second; I wanted to kill.