The American Nightmare [BoyXBoy]

.:16:.:The End:.

I felt like there was nothing but adrenaline pumping through my veins. No blood, no oxygen. Just pure adrenaline of doing something which would put the lives of at least three people at risk.

I had been anxiously waiting, clutching Kellin's phone in my trembling hands, checking for messages every five seconds. After my parents had arrived (and I went along with my story of Mike going to sleep early because he wanted to prepare for the final ritual), Ronnie and I had sent a few brief texts in order to communicate secretly. We established that it would be too risky to have him drive the car up to the house, as it would make too much noise, and the front gate was a pain to open up. Especially without a key. This method, however, gave us a huge disadvantage in how we would transport Kellin out. We would have to somehow get him out of the basement, sneak him outside, then make sure he gets to the car safely - which, in his current state, would not be easy.

This 'mission' was giving me unbelievable anxiety. I was Vic Fuentes, the boy who always played it safe. He never stood up to his extremist parents. He lived in the shadow of his perfect brother. He wanted to live life, have an education, meet people. He did not want to be sneaking a beaten and raped man out of his own basement, away from his psychopathic family.

This plan was a mess, but there was a chance that it would work.

During the time when I was not checking the phone, I was praying. I had turned the inverted cross, which hung from a wall in my room, upside-down, so that it was the right way. I had been kneeling down for so long that my knees were hurting. I never knew any real prayers, because I did not have the privilege to go to church enough or to learn about my own religion. Was I even a Christian anymore? After all, I lived in a house full of violent, raping, cannibalistic Satanists. But that was not my fault, as I could not leave.

And so, I simply pleaded and begged to God. I did not even mention myself; I prayed for Kellin. His life was worth so much more than mine and it was my fault that he was here in the first place. Kellin deserved to live. I didn't.

When the phone suddenly buzzed in my hand, the feeling was so surreal. It felt like my entire body shook along with it.

The sudden sickening feeling in my stomach was alerting me of how truly terrified I was. This was such an alien thing for me to do.

I finally built up the courage to look at the phone. The time was 1:43. It had probably taken Ronnie a lot less time to get here, as it was the middle of the night and there was less traffic. Well, even less traffic (if that is possible). The text he sent simply read, 'I'm here. I'm about to start walking to the house'.

It was quite worrying how Ronnie had trusted me straight away. He had no evidence of what was going on and, for all he knew, I could have been the one who hurt Kellin. Which I was...

Earlier, I had spent a significant amount of time looking for the key to my parents' room. My plan was to simply lock them in, so that they would not be a problem. Mike was already passed out (maybe even dead), which meant that he could not get in the way either. However, no matter how hard I looked, I could not locate the valuable key. So, instead I went for something which would not stop my parents, but it could slow them down.

There was a gun.

A plain shotgun: typical of a farmer to have. Hiding it in my room would have been way too suspicious, in case one of my parents went downstairs and realised that it was missing so, instead, I removed all bullets from it and chucked them into the hay field behind our house. There were many spares, however, before they would even have the chance to find out that the gun was not loaded, we could already be halfway to safety.

I considered emptying the knives from the kitchen drawers, but that would make too much noise and I would probably get caught. Knowing my luck, I would have probably dropped one and stabbed myself in the foot with it.