This Is England » Freddie Highmore

41.

"BREAKING NEWS TODAY at Cambridge University there was a shooting occurring just an hour ago."

I sat up from lying on Freddie's couch, leaning forward as I raised up the volume on the television so I could hear better. Who would cause a shooting at Cambridge?

"Sources say that the intruder was a resident at one of the dorms. He had entered the campus with a pistol; shooting everybody he saw in sight."

They showed surveillance cameras with a blonde-haired male running through the halls. I placed my hand over my mouth in shock. I hope Freddie wasn't involved.

"Although when police tried to identify the suspect, the authorities found him dead. Sources have no clue who had shot the young man or had broken his neck.

"As of right now, the administration of the campus asks for the students to stay in their dorms or stay away from the campus until they can resolve this issue. More information on this case will be on at 10:30 tonight. Thank you, I'm Wendy Johnson and this has been LONDON NEWS."

Just as I had turned off the television in total oblivion, the front door opened; revealing Freddie in a bloodstained shirt.

"Hey," he says, closing the door behind him. He quickly notices my shocked expression and sighs.

"Ye found out, didn't you?" he asks.

"Yeah!" I exclaim, "It's all over the---oh my God, what happened to you, Freddie?!"

He sits down next to me and rubs his hands upon his lap. He turns to me, a blank expression written all over his face.

"I'm pretty sure you want to know who the murderer of the suspect was," Freddie says, "well, the murderer was me."

"But. . . But why?" I asked. I couldn't believe it. I really couldn't.

Freddie laughed. It wasn't out of cynicism or anything. It was a tired laugh. As if he had been asked this by multiple people.

"I killed him because he was shooting innocent lives, Amelia." he says. "And I wouldn't be shocked if I were you."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Why?"

Freddie runs his hand through his wavy-brown hair; stiffening his jaw.

He turns to me once again and says:

"It was Ashton."

..

I looked down at my hands, trying to comprehend it all. Out of all people, Ashton was the one to lose his mind and bring a gun to school.

"Why Ashton, though?" I asked. Freddie shrugged, not finding an answer to any of it.

"I don't know either, love." he says. "but something tells me that Ashton was threatened to do it."

"What do you mean threatened? You mean Dameon put him up to it?"

Freddie rolled his eyes. "No, Amelia, I'm saying that the Pillsbury Dough Boy put him up to it for a free batch of cookies." he glares at me. "Come on, Am, who else would be after me?"

I nodded, feeling stupid for asking that question.

"I'm sorry," I reply, "I just forgot."

Freddie shook his head, exhaling a breath. "It's fine," he says. "I just have to get to the bottom of this once and for all. They want me dead, they're going to get their wish."

I widened my eyes. "You can't be serious, Freddie!"

"I am." He says sternly. "but I'm not going down without a fight."

"I--I don't want you to die, Freddie." I whimper, tearing up. "You can't leave. . ."

He cups my face in his hands and presses his forehead against mine. "I'm not going anywhere yet, Am." He tilts his head to the side and presses his lips against mine.

"I love you."

He lets go of me and gets up from the couch, making his way over to the laundry room.

"Oh Amelia?"

"Yeah?" I call back.

"We're going to have to get up early tomorrow." He returns back into the room wearing sweats and a muscle shirt.

"Why?"

"We're going to go see yer mother."

...