There Will Be Blood

Chapter 2

The gruesome death of Dennis Steele circulated around the campus pretty quickly. The duo had left the scene as soon as Will destroyed the audio recording system, which was a good thing because some meddling pest of a neighbor had to phone the WCPD. Of course, speedy as they were, the police arrived only moments later. Had Paul and Will stayed any longer, it would have been difficult to exit the premises of the Steele household especially since their abode was tucked into the farthest part of the neighborhood, half-enclosed by high hilltops. Neither Paul nor Will were satisfactory climbers, so they ended up winded as heck after running.

Classes for the day were already over. After Paul successfully sold Dennis Steele's MacBook and iPhone to a computer shop on the fringes of the campus, he visited the university amphitheater, where a dedication to Dennis Steele was hastily set up. He observed the candles and flower baskets already surrounding the little monument. There were several statements scrawled on it too; Paul skimmed through a couple of them.

"Life is too short indeed. Embrace the high and good life like Denny did."

- Ed, your childhood best friend (sorry we drifted apart)

"The well-loved Dennis Steele from Engineering brought us happiness every day. He will be remembered for being very generous with us; he always treats us to lunch, all on him."

- R.W., loving classmate

"A bro from beginning to the end. Never forget."

-Your squad (AJ, SW, MJ, CO and EM)

Paul had to stifle a chuckle. Dennis Steele was the scum of the earth, why was his life even celebrated? What achievements did he garner in his limited time besides squandering the earnings of his parents? He wanted to write something witty or ironic about his death and leave it signed by anonymous - now that would be funny.

He saw a couple of girls at the base of the amphitheater, praying over his name erected from the ground.

"Prayer is worthless, but I'm pretty sure Steele would've appreciated it," Paul said, inching closer to the shortest girl of the group, who seemed to be heaving the heaviest sob. How laughable. "What are you thankful for him for?"

"H-He was a good guy," the girl said, sniffling. "He said he'd buy. F-for me. A-anything. He was rich, t-too."

How pathetic. Paul had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. The wealth of the Steele family was accumulated by blood, sweat, and tears, none of which traced back to Dennis. Where was his input? No matter. The target was dead and gone anyway.

Paul analyzed the girl. With that level of grief she was displaying, for sure she would be numb to his words, hence the dumb and incoherent responses. He hypothesized she would barely hold on to whatever he was saying to her right now; it was impossible to snap her out of her trance. He had tested this theory on a few people before her, and they all proved him right.

"Do you think anyone could have hated Steele?"