I gasped. What the hell is going on?!

When I looked at Dakota again, it was as if I was seeing a totally different person. His normally soft grey eyes were now as hard as steel, the usually friendly-smile turning sick. His movements were slow, deliberate, and that gut-twisting grin never once leaving his face. I could no longer hear the words he was saying, but judging by Ollie's expression, it wasn't good.

Dakota advanced closer, and Ollie scooted backwards until his back hit the couch. Ollie was pleading with Dakota, his hands raised as if to try and protect himself. But it was like the black-haired boy was talking to a wall – his words bounced off the blonde with no effect at all.

Dakota grabbed a lamp off a nearby table, that sick, sick smile still stretching from ear to ear.

By now my heart was pounding so hard it echoed in my ears, the panic rising to an uncontrollable level in my chest. My breaths were quick, but I still felt as if I wasn't getting any oxygen. I prayed that this was just a hallucination, that Dakota wasn't actually raising the lamp over his head.

That the blonde didn't creep ever so closer, that his foot didn't pin the hat-loving boy to the ground.

I prayed that I was imagining the steady stream of tears leaking from those sapphire blue eyes.

But I knew that Ollie's horrified screams were not my imagination.

"No! Dakota! Don't do it, please! I know you're still in there!" Ollie was grappling with Dakota's foot, trying to dislodge the appendage from crushing his chest.

The adrenaline was pumping through my system, and I started to pound on the door. My hand ached every time it came in contact with the solid wood, but I couldn't even feel the pain. I began to scream, my throat beginning to grow raw.

"Dakota! What are you doing?! What's going on?!" Every cell in my body was in overdrive, and the blood continued to rush in my ears.

I could feel my heart plummet when I heard the shatter of porcelain. I froze.

"No..." I whispered. That couldn't have just happened.

With ragged breathing, I dragged my eyes back up to the window. I gasped.

Shattered shards of the once white lamp were scattered around Ollie's head, many of them stained red. Dark liquid pooled around his hair, seeping into the plush carpet under him. My hand flew to my mouth as I uttered a strangled cry.

Ollie wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing.

Dakota's face suddenly appeared in the window, his eyes unnervingly focused as they met mine. I let out a short scream, jumping back and nearly tripping down the stairs. I couldn't move as I stared into his unwavering expression. Then he smiled at me.

That sick, sick, smile.

I heard the doorknob begin to turn, and that's when I convinced my muscles to move. Leaping down the stairs and onto the walkway, I took off running down the street.

"Help! Please help! Someone call 9-1-1!" I could hardly recognize my own voice, and I couldn't help but hope this was all some sort of sick hallucination caused by my schizophrenia.

But I could feel the burn in my legs, the ache in my lungs, and the pounding in my head. The world went blurry, wet droplets trailing their way down my cheeks. I didn't stop screaming. I never stopped screaming.

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