Chapter Twelve... Bloody Murder
James' POV
This roof was bitter cold, and I had spent the last ten minutes or so arguing with Sarah over her getting as far away as possible from the murder scene below us. For now she wouldn't go, not without me. But a part of me knew already that I wasn't going to make it.
I had come here tonight to cut hams. Instead, I was close to death, the only thing keeping me holding on was that I didn't know what had happened to my little brother. He was still inside, and if I knew he was alive I'd let myself bleed to death.
But I could tell also that I had a slight chance of living through the night.
"Come on," Sarah whispered after a minute of silence. "You have to at least try getting out of here. You have to try."
"Sar, just stop trying to keep me alive," I groaned. "You need to stay safe. You need to stay alive."
"Not without you," Sarah breathed.
"Come on, I can't hardly walk anymore," I gasped. "You can get away. You can run for help. I can't! I'll only be holding you back."
"No!" Sarah screamed, and it echoed out over the town.
"Sarah, stop arguing it with me," I sighed. "Just go. I'll come down if I can get down! But for now, you can. You can escape injury free! Yet you're here, trying to keep me alive! And what for? So I can die in a couple of hours?!"
"Stop it!" Sarah cried. "Please! Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!"
Tears rolled down Sarah's frustrated face, and she couldn't keep it together anymore. Her legs gave way and she sunk onto the cold concrete, sitting in the light snow covering the concrete. She curled up into a ball and cried hard, and I crawled over and sat next to her, hugging her.
"He died for me," she sniffled after a few minutes.
"Who did?" I asked.
"Brian," she cried. "He took that knife, and he told me to run. He died keeping me alive because he didn't wanna see me die!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Sar," I comforted.
"I loved him. And he loved me. Which makes it so hard because it took until tonight before we ever confessed our love for each other. And now he's dead."
"I always knew you liked him," I admitted. "I'm sorry that you lost him before you had him."
Sarah laughed a little, but for the meantime we stopped arguing... we stopped talking. We just sat on the rooftop huddled in each other's arms, remembering our lost friend.
>>>>
Cameron's POV
I had been hiding in this little room for close to an hour. It was dark, and I was startled when all of a sudden someone started pounding heavily on the door. I froze, not wanting to open the door for anything or anyone.
"Open the door!" the killer's voice rang loudly, him still pounding on the door.
"Go away!" I shouted back. "Leave us alone!"
"You're dead, kid!" the murderer screamed.
He stopped banging on the door, and for a moment I thought I was safe.
For a moment, I thought he had gone.
Until the door ripped open.
I couldn't help but scream in terror as the man who had stabbed me before once again stood over me, wielding a knife. The same knife he'd used to murder us all. Well, not quite all of us. But I had hoped secretly that I'd been safe. I turned and realised that there was a large sum of money in the room, and he'd known it was there.
He wasn't after me at all.
Ella had been right. He was breaking in. And she'd died, probably afraid of him. Well, of course she was afraid, I thought. But some people aren't afraid of dying when they're hurt. As for me? I just wanted to wake up from my terrifying nightmare. I just wanted to be at home. I was nineteen! I needed to live life!
As the man stood over me, my whole life flashed before my eyes. I was a goner for sure this time, I knew it. I wasn't going to make it out of here alive, and all I could think about was my brother. He'd been injured, too. I didn't even know if James was alive anymore. There was the two of us, plus our younger sister Hailey. She would take care of mom if we both died, but still. I couldn't bear the thought of my mom losing two kids in one night.
So as I remained cowered in the corner, I could only hope that James survived. That he got away...
There was nothing I wanted more in the world than for both of us to win. But I already knew that wasn't possible. I was going to be dead soon. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion... I took that to my advantage, absorbing my last minutes alive... my last seconds... Taking in deep breaths, and counting my last breaths while I was at it.
The man could see the fear in my eyes... I began to think he thrived on it. He was a thug, probably about thirty years old. If the police asked me to describe him, I could give them the most detailed description ever. Dark curly hair... dark eyes. All in black. Scar on his face, pretty distinctive.
Scar... that scar told me something that now made me understand.
If this man had only intended to break in, he wouldn't have killed us. But we could have told the police that he had a distinct scar on his face, and he'd be arrested for break and enter. And it was because of that scar that he'd ultimately decided to take us all out. Because we could all identify him simply by that one scar.
And now, as well as the scar, he was bleeding from his abdomen.
Easily identifiable.
"You won't get away with this, you know," I breathed.
"I know," he replied. "That's why you have to die. I hope you understand."
"I get it," I gasped. "But you're still gonna get caught."
"But you won't be around to see it," the man laughed evilly. "Sorry."
"Just do it and get it over with," I ordered.
The man raised his knife... but then lowered it.
"I'd only be doing you a favour by killing you right now..." he said bitterly.
"I'd kill you if I could," I muttered.
The knife was raised again, and I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to see it coming. That cold knife was plunged into my neck.
I felt it for a moment... then there was no more pain.