One Fumbled Touch

William's P.O.V

I usually never smoke the thick clouds of deadly chemicals floating around me normally make me feel queasy. But as I slowly part my lips and slip the cigarette into my mouth I feel strangely relaxed as I suck in its goodness greedily. I stole a packet from Mike Carden, I screwed his sister and then stole his cigarettes, I'm so mean! Well its not like he can do anything about it, I'll be dead soon. I let the cigarette hang loosely in my cracked lips and lean back in my seat watching the rain droplets hit the dusty window. Flicking the ash carelessly on my lap I just snigger at how much of my self respect has been demolished, screwing random girls, drinking myself to stupor, ruining Ryan's funeral, do I even care about me anymore.

Who even am I? What am I? Why am I unrecognizable even to my very self?

I'm scared that I'm asking questions nobody knows the answers to, even myself. They circle around my head like a vulture ready to attack its worthless pray, the pray in my situation being the real William, the boy Brendon feel head over heels for. I try to think ,but the pain throbbing through my skull seems to send sharp cracks through it every time I experience the unwanted vibrations shuddering against my forehead. The bland world around me feels like I'm on a never ending ride on a carousel. Like a small child begging to get off because they don't like it. If I step off I would fall flat on my face, I would rather stay in the chaos than be a nobody.

I'm about to step out of the car and figure away to kill myself quicker but I hear something approaching and the curiosity starts to tingle. My hands hover over the seat belt ready to free myself from my belt prison but I don't want to risk the chance of being put off about the whole suicide commotion. I take a deep breath quickly pulling myself together and decide to get out of the car but I was never expecting this.

"Brendon?"

"William!"

I fell the hairs stand on edge against my thin pale arms when his voice smooth as silk wraps itself around me. A voice with such beauty and meaning behind it can point towards only one thing. It has to be Brendon. But why would he be here, I mean why does he want to be part of my mess when he has a perfect boyfriend clung to his arm like a bad odor. This just doesn't add up, does he love me or is he just plain stupid.

He's taping on the window now, every time I hear his knuckle hit the cool pain of glass my heart takes a leap of faith desperate to break through my ribs and rip through my chest. Should I ignore him, maybe if he believes I'm over him he will leave me alone turn away with ounces of pain and regret, but he has to know that this is for the best. Us being together was doomed from the start our future was bound to be bleak.

I try to ignore him, I have to pry my eyes away from the window on numerous occasions because I'm scared that if my eyes meet his I will see fireworks. I can feel his glare sending perfect holes into my burning skin and I feel like I'm going to vomit. But not just the usual horrid substance, the rest of my stomach and organs too. I feel my hands growing tighter around the steering wheel and turning white from the force of my knuckles pressing against the skin.

"I'll always love you Bren, just try and find someway to always remember that," I whisper gently, an innocent tear splashed down my flustered cheek and I wipe it away angrily. I push my foot down on the peddle and start to drive off furiously, I feel the wind seeping into the windows and blowing through my tousled hair. I think about switching on the radio because the sound of Brendon's screams is enough to make me want to run into his arms again.

I look in the mirror and see that Brendon is chasing the car, running as fast as his twig like legs will carry him. Its quite cruel actually to watch him force his miniscule frame to work so hard but there is no way I'm stopping and giving him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. I slow down a little continuously checking that Brendon has not fallen over and is laying face down in the dirt. I stamp down hard on the break and allow him to reach the car with his last few strides, I'm just letting him catch his breath and then I will trick him. I will zoom off into my fucked up future never looking back.

I see him collapse onto the boot of the car and watch as he struggles to hold himself together. His breathing is hard and overly forced, his cheeks are bright red with beads of moisture trickling down them. I put my hand on the gear shift my fingers trembling as I slowly start to reverse. the tires move painfully slow and I hear Brendon groaning when he slides of the car and onto the murky road. I stop, take a deep breath and carry on reversing this time the wheels rolling onto Brendon, I can hear his screams splintering through the atmosphere, like his wails of pain are wrapping themselves around my neck chocking me, restricting my airway. I drive forward then back. Forward then back. Forward then back. The screams get louder the tears down my cheeks thicker.

Brendon is dying underneath this car, I'm killing him, breaking bones, spilling blood, its all ever so horrific. Its like I can hear his skin tearing, the bone splitting, the muscle and arteries squelching. I just concentrate on getting the rhythm correct making sure the wheels rolled back and forth. This time I turn up the radio, the music blasts into the cars tense atmosphere but yet the screams still somehow manage to nestle into my ears getting louder and louder. I come to a stop when I realize what I'm doing and the vile sick has started to zoom up my throat like when a rocket is about to break into outer space at blazing speed. I don't know if this is real but I can smell the blood torturing my nostrils and that makes me want to throw up even more.

Leaning back in my seat I squeeze my eyes shut and start banging my head against the head rest. It's all just a dream. It's all just a dream. Its all... What is wrong with me, I just ran Brendon over and over and over again like this is some sort of sick obsession of mine. Like death is my biggest weakness the thought of blood shimmering on the floor sends me to a fantasy world, makes me head spin like I've been doing cocaine for a week. This is not me, this is a killer and defiantly not William Beckett.

"Brendon," I sob, I swing open the car door and fly into the heartache. I don't even see his mashed up body but I can already see the vivid red liquid flowing casually down the road. Taking small steps I have to hold my nose from the smell so pungent it could send me into unconsciousness. and peer around the bonnet of the car.

Oh god, his eyes are still open and looking right at me.

From the waist down he looks like a bunch of human parts throw together in some sort of mess of muscle and bone. His trousers are dyed scarlet the blood staining even the very tips of his fingers. His breathing subsides and the rise and fall of his chest becomes almost invisible. The pain boucing against my chest, hurts and I'm not talking about the pain when you fall over as a child and scrape the skin of your knees.

I kneel down beside him, gently trailing my fingers across his heated cheek. He lifts up his hand with all his might and clings onto mine weakly. I wipe a tear from his eye and start to sob myself, I pull him into my arms letting him flop against my thudding chest. He slowly opens his lips and manages to stutter something out.

"I...I st..Still love you, you William."