Blood On His Name

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Blake had always known he was different. Don't get him wrong – he had an average home life. His parents were loving and supportive. They never fought. Not once in the twenty years that they had been married. He got decent grades, he had several friends, and he was generally a well-liked person. So it confused Blake when he started to feel the urges. It started out like an itch underneath his skin that he just couldn't scratch. He got violent impulses. They came out of no where. He didn't want to tell his parents because he knew they would become worried.

Submitted: October 31, 2014

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Submitted: October 31, 2014

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Blood On His Name

Blake had always known he was different. Don't get him wrong – he had an average home life. His parents were loving and supportive. They never fought. Not once in the twenty years that they had been married. He got decent grades, he had several friends, and he was generally a well-liked person. So it confused Blake when he started to feel the urges. It started out like an itch underneath his skin that he just couldn't scratch. He got violent impulses. They came out of no where. He didn't want to tell his parents because he knew they would become worried. Blake's parents already had enough on their plate as is. He tried ignoring them, but after a while he had to find a way to cope.

Blake started small. At age twelve, he pulled a grasshopper's head off of it's body and watched with fascination as the torn nerves wriggled intensely. After a while, they ceased and the grasshopper laid lifeless in the palm of his hand. He even tried to set ants on fire with a magnifying glass once or twice. It was a success. He made sure his mom and dad didn't find out.

When he was thirteen, Blake's mother had found a rat in the cupboards and shrieked. Blake caught it for her and was rewarded with a kiss to the top of his head. Blake had smiled with satisfaction worn unashamedly on his face. She told him to go set it free outside. So Blake took it outdoors, but instead of letting it go, he devised a much better plan. This rat was a vermin. He figured that if he just let it go in the forest behind their house, the rodent would eventually find its way back inside. He went into the garage, the squirming creature held in his fist. Blake sought out the tackle box that he knew his father kept in there. Once he found it in one of the garage's musty, dirty corners, he took it out and opened it. He dug around until he found what he was looking for: one of his dad's old fishing knives. Blake knew that his father didn't go fishing anymore – he didn't have time for it with his busy schedule – so Blake pocketed it. He put the tackle box back, making sure to place it in the exact position he found it.

Blake went behind the house and into the forest that laid beyond it with the rat writhing all the while. He had looked around, making sure there wasn't anybody in the vicinity to witness what he was about to do. When he was assured that there wasn't, he squatted down and flipped the creature onto it's back. It immediately started to screech. Blake ignored the noises that the rodent emitted. He held down the rat and pulled the knife, that he had retrieved earlier, out of his pocket. He looked around once more and then made a delicate, vertical incision down the rat's belly. The rat screeched and cried even more, as expected, but soon enough, the noises died out as the animal seized up and blood seeped from the gouge. The cut started from the neck and ended near the creature's tail. Blake pulled the rat apart at the wound that he had made. Once they were exposed, Blake studied the rodent's organs. Blake studied the anatomy with a sick sort of captivation. He poked around inside the rat with the fishing knife. He moved the innards around. He cut open the rat's stomach. He looked at it from every which way. Once it got boring, he disposed of the creature in a pile of leaves. He was sure that some sort of animal would take care of it. Blake had hardly any blood on his hands, but it was still there nonetheless. So before he headed inside, he hosed his hands off. Blake entered the house, his hands slightly wet. His mom was sitting in the living room watching some reality TV show. She paid no attention to him when he came back in and she was none the wiser.

Over the year, the game that Blake killed got larger. He graduated from rats and mice and moved up to cats. The neighbor's cat had been the first of that set. They thought that it had ran off – though it had never done that before. Boy, were they wrong. A few other unfortunate stray cats fell victim to Blake. After a while, he moved up from cats to dogs. The procedure was always the same. Take the animal to the forest, split it open with his trusty fishing knife, inspect the innards, and then dispose of the creature. He buried the cats and dogs that he killed. The dogs were always the trickiest. People were quite fond of those furry friends. He couldn't take too much time with them. The owners eventually became worried when they noticed that their dogs were missing and began calling for them. The owners would wander into the forest sometimes, calling and whistling for their beloved pet. Blake had had a few close calls. Nobody ever found him out though.

The need to tear into something – it wasn't even logical. He wasn't angry. He wasn't a tortured soul. It just became part of who he was. In fact, the first time the urge to kill another human being bubbled up in his gut was when he was with his best friend. Blake was only fourteen and his friend, Jasper, had been sixteen. They had been playing video games and he was honestly enjoying himself. They were both cracking jokes and they had a playful banter going. Blake had felt incredibly happy. That was always the case when he was around Jasper. The boys were practically inseparable. They did everything together. Wherever Jasper was, Blake was and vice versa. They were taking a break and for some reason, Blake had just been staring at Jasper. Granted, Jasper was pretty easy on the eyes and Blake had come to terms by then that he wasn't 100% straight. And okay, in all honesty, Blake had a huge fucking crush on Jasper. But who could blame him? The dude was gorgeous. His brownish-red hair went a bit past his shoulders and he was lean, yet muscular. Though Blake didn't really feel affection towards anybody, Jasper seemed to be his exception. Jasper seemed so carefree in moments like these. When he was smiling widely, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. His grin was nearly blinding. Jasper's smile could probably cure cancer. Looking at him had made Blake feel something. It started out as the usual feeling of affection – perhaps with a hint of lust – but then it grew from there. Looking at Jasper, Blake got the sudden urge to inflict harm on him. He wanted to wrap his fingers around his neck and squeeze until Jasper was purple in the face. He wanted to break his bones one by one and listen to the chorus of screams that he would inevitably let out. Blake wanted to slice into Jasper until he saw his bone marrow.

“Blake? Earth to Blake!” Jasper had said, waving his hand in front of Blake's face.

That pulled him out of his morbid trance. Blake snapped back to reality, jumping slightly. “Yeah. Sorry. Hey.” Blake forced a smirk onto his face, but in all reality, he had been disgusted with himself. Where had those thoughts come from? Why would he want to hurt Jasper? He could understand hurting animals, but Jasper – Jasper was his friend. You don't hurt friends. Especially friends that you were kind of in love with. Jasper's eyebrows were knitted together in some resemblance of concern.

“Let's just start the next campaign, yeah?” Blake said, in hopes of avoiding any questions.

It seemed to work well. Jasper's face relaxed slightly and he nodded tersely. But throughout the rest of Jasper's stay, Blake couldn't help but dwell on those thoughts he had had earlier. They terrified him. The thoughts lingered until night time when he dreamed about the life fading from gleeful, hazel eyes.

From that night forward, the thoughts grew increasingly more invasive. The fantasies expanded. He found himself wanting to press the cold steel of a blade to a classmate's throat. Other times, Blake felt like setting fire to his parents. Of course most of the tactics that he daydreamed about were impractical and would surely get most people caught, but that didn't stop him from entertaining the thoughts. And that's all they were. Thoughts. Passing thoughts in fact. He would never do something as cruel as taking another person's life. Killing an animal was one thing, but a human being? That was a whole other ballpark. So he left the human slaughter in his mind.

He hadn't killed any creatures in a while when he reached age fifteen. The itch had simmered down to a gentle buzz for a while. Blake was preoccupied with other things. He had school and football and family events. He had to worry about faking certain emotions and wearing a forced grin. Plus he was a bit worried about getting caught, to be honest. Though he had never been caught, the rise of missing pets in the area had been getting suspicious. There had been rumors that it was a mountain lion or some other predatory animal, but it was only a matter of time that the police got involved with the disappearances. The urges were still there, lurking in his mind daily, he just didn't act on them. He had gory video games to tide him over. And football helped him deal with the need to inflict pain on people. So Blake was doing okay, but after a while, the itch demanded to be scratched again. It festered. It pained him. The burning urge to kill carved away at his ribcage. Blake thought it would be acceptable to just leave it to fester. He didn't want to kill anymore. Okay well, he did, but it was way too risky. He didn't want to take any chances. Blake could go on without killing, right? He didn't need it. He didn't have to be this way.

When he reached age sixteen, he realized that he was feeding himself lies. He was growing tired of trying to convince himself that he could be normal. His bloodlust was at a record high. Blake was on edge. He knew this wasn't normal. Normal teenage boys fascinated about feeling other people up, not murder. Normal teenage boys weren't desperate for the rush of fatality. But Blake had known he wasn't normal from the beginning. Sometimes he wished he was. Just to escape the irrational thoughts that sprouted in his mind with no rhyme or reason. It irritated the living hell out of him. Jasper had noticed that Blake was acting strange. Blake could tell by the way he constantly wore a look of worry around him. Whenever Jasper would ask him what was wrong, Blake would deflect him, fake a smile and say “Nothing,” and then change the subject. The look of concern that Jasper wore saddened Blake. It looked misplaced. He would do anything to have Jasper smile. Jasper seemed happy when Blake was happy. The only logical solution was to itch the scratch. If he could do that, he could relax. Blake would be happy and Jasper would be happy and everything would be sunshine and rainbows.

It was on a Friday that Blake began killing again. He decided it was time to bite the bullet – metaphorically of course. After school, he usually walked home. It wasn't that far of a walk– about a mile and a quarter. This day though, he made a stop before going to his house. There was a little boy that lived a couple blocks away from the school. He was always out in the dry grass of his front yard playing with a soccer ball or running around aimlessly. He looked maybe eight or nine. Blake knew that his parents were never around. His father was the town drunk and his mother had died in childbirth. In a way, Blake was doing him a favor. Just as Blake suspected, when he came up to the house, the kid was digging in the dirt pointlessly with a stick, drawing patterns.

“Hey kid!” Blake called out. The boy looked up from the ground and tilted his head confusedly. Blake wondered fleetingly if he'd wear the same confused expression when he was bleeding out. God, he was deranged.

“What do you want?” Spat the boy.

Apparently the kid was defiant. That just made Blake that much more excited. He felt the familiar burning urge surge through his veins. Though he was apprehensive about this sort of prey and he was stricken that he had to do such a vial act just to stay sane, he ached for the feel of flesh being hacked. Blake wanted to hear this boy's last words and his last breath. If that didn't make him fucked up, he didn't know what did.

Blake choked on a laugh, “Calm down, kid. I was just wondering if you wanted to come by my house. You look pretty lonely playing in the dirt all by yourself.”

The boy raised an eyebrow and looked Blake up and down. He made a face as if he was weighing his options and then ran a smallish hand through the blond tuft of hair on his scalp. “Okay,” the kid nodded, “sure.”

Blake mentally celebrated. Perfect. He had to work quickly though because his father would be home in an hour or two from work. Blake schooled his face into something that resembled indifference. Looking excited about this would probably just push the boy away.

“Alright. Let's go then.” Blake walked up to the boy and offered him a calloused hand. The kid took it discerningly. Blake pulled him to his feet and nodded to the road ahead.

“Just follow me, okay?” Blake smirked, trying to look as friendly as possible. The boy nodded and returned a smile. The friendly mask was working then. They walked in silence most of the way. Blake asked the boy how school was – the kid had just shrugged. Blake could relate. School sucked. No matter how old you were. They talked a bit about their interests – apparently the boy was an aspiring MLS player – until they finally stood in front of Blake's house.

“Well,” Blake said, “here we are.” The kid looked like he was standing in front of Disneyland rather than a, somewhat above average looking, suburban home. That was understandable though, Blake supposed, considering the dump he lived at.

“This is where you live?” The boy had a tone of wonder in his voice. It almost made Blake feel guilty for what he was about to do. Almost.

He chuckled drily, “Yeah, but this isn't even the best part. You should see my backyard!” The twinge of fervor swelled within him. He was minutes away from getting blood on his hands once again. The boy raised his eyebrows as if what Blake had said were impossible.

“Come on. Let me show you.” Blake offered his hand once more to the kid. He tried looking inviting rather than crazed. The boy hesitantly took a hold of his hand. They walked behind the house. Blake led them towards the forest that had seen so many of the sins that he had already committed. They walked deep into the woods like that for a while, hand-in-hand. Blake stopped after about thirty minutes of walking.

“Where are we? Why did we stop?” The words flew out of the boy's mouth. He seemed slightly wary. That was no good.

“Don't be afraid,” Blake squatted down to the boy's level and ruffled his hair, “We're just going to play a game. Is that alright?”

The boy visibly relaxed, “Yeah. That's cool,” but the boy paused, “What kind of game?” He was smarter than Blake had expected him to be.

“It's called The Quiet Game. You've heard of it, right?” Blake looked at the boy to see him nod in response.

“Okay. Here's the rules: no matter what I do, you have to stay quiet, okay?” Blake waited. The kid nodded again though he seemed significantly more tense than he was previously.

“Alright. Ready?” Blake stuck his hand in his pocket and felt handle of the infamous fishing blade. He waited for the kid's answer. He nodded shakily, fear expressed clearly in his eyes.

“Okay,” Blake stalled until he was sure that he had a strong grip on the knife. The growing hunger would soon be satisfied.

“Go!” Blake shouted and in one swift move, he had the blade at the kid's throat and his head in a headlock. His front was pressed firmly against the kid's back. Before the boy could even begin to scream, Blake slit his throat relentlessly, rendering him literally speechless. The boy made a wet hacking sound as he choked, trying to gasp for air. Blake held him until the cacophony that escaped his esophagus ceased. He let go of the boy and he fell easily in a heap on the ground. Blood flowed steadily from the body. Blake felt a thrill. He felt alive. He felt the ever growing ache dull. The itch had been scratched and damn if it didn't feel good. There was something about taking a human life that was significantly different than taking an animal's life. It was so much more satisfying. It was exhilarating. Seeing the lifeless body on the forest floor was without a doubt the most pleasing sight that Blake had ever experienced. Sure, it wasn't exactly an elegant death. Blake had been planning to be more intricate, but after figuring out just how smart this kid was, he couldn't risk taking his time. He would have surely escaped. A quick death was the best option. Blake momentarily admired his work, but didn't dwell on it. The body needed to be hid. He already knew the perfect spot. There was a medium sized hole in the earth, that once homed some sort of creature, just a little deeper within the woods. Blake picked up the boy, trying to avoid getting too much blood on his clothes. He was actually quite fond of the outfit he was wearing that day. When he came up on the hole, he dropped the boy carelessly. He forcefully stuffed the body in the hole, his bones audibly crunching, and covered the area with dead, brown leaves and loose dirt. After making sure that there wasn't any visible limbs or appendages, Blake ran in the direction of the house. He ran as fast as physically possible and didn't stop running until he got into his abode and in the bathroom. He slammed the door and rested his back against it. Blake panted, his chest heaving. He was sweaty and his arms were red with caked on blood, but Blake was extremely self-satisfied. He had done it. He murdered his first human. He thought back to the thump of the boy's body. The gurgling that the boy had made before dropping. The blood gushing from the gaping slit on his neck. As Blake stripped and got into the shower, he smiled. His blood was pumping and his heart was beating fast. The adrenaline that was running through his veins was thick and overpowering. He felt omnipotent and unstoppable. Blake whistled a tune as he watched the water turn a pinkish hue.
Shockingly, the body wasn't found. Blake had gotten away with it. There had been a huge investigation. The boy had been on the news as a missing child. There was an Amber alert, search parties, the whole nine. Of course the kid's father didn't blink twice when he heard about the ordeal. He just continued occupying the local bar at every waking moment. Blake was filled with a twisted sort of pleasure whenever somebody mentioned the boy's disappearance. I did that. Blake would think. Blake was noticeably happier after the crime he committed. Jasper commented on it one day when they were at his house watching movies. They were in the middle of some cheesy action-comedy when he turned to Blake.

“Are you seeing somebody?” Jasper had questioned.

Blake almost choked on his own spit. Why was Jasper asking him that? Did he know about his pitiful little crush that he's harbored since the seventh grade? Was he asking him out? No. That couldn't be it. Jasper was much too beautiful to be asking out somebody like Blake (who was average on a good day in his opinion).

“Uh. N-No,” Blake stammered and felt instantly pathetic, “Why do you ask?” He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Jasper shrugged and turned his gaze back to his television. “You just seem happy that's all. I thought you might have gotten a girlfriend or boyfriend and didn't tell me.”

Blake shook his head, “Nah. I'm as single as ever. Life is just going good for me right now, you know?” He looked to where his hands were folded self-consciously in his lap.

Jasper's mouth upturned slightly at the corners and a look of what Blake assumed was fondness flooded his face.

“Yeah. I know.” He grinned fully now, “I'm glad that you're doing better, Blake. You had me worried for a while.”

Blake laughed nervously. “Heh. Yeah. I was...dealing with some stuff back then. But yeah. I've been feeling a lot more like myself lately.” It wasn't a complete lie.

Jasper smiled once more and nodded before he placed a hand on Blake's shoulder and squeezed gently. “I'm glad to hear that, Blake. I really am.”

Blake's shoulder felt warm and if Blake leaned into the touch, Jasper didn't say anything. Jasper had a way of being overwhelmingly genuine. It was both endearing and overbearing. All too quickly, Jasper's hand returned to his own lap. Even so, Blake felt the lingering warmth on his shoulder and in his heart for the rest of the night.

Murder, Blake decided, was a necessary evil. He had to do it in order to stay in his right mind. By seventeen, he had committed another murder. The next victim was a young girl, probably around twelve, by the name of Lucia that he had picked up (weren't driver's licenses convenient?) from two towns over. Blake had plans with Jasper that day, but he canceled, using the excuse of a dentist's appointment. Jasper sounded sad and a bit worried when Blake had told him this, but he needed this. Jasper could wait until another day. He was much more prepared than he was when he killed the boy. He packed rubber gloves, wet wipes, a change of clothes, gasoline, and a book of matches. Blake had upgraded from the old fishing blade. He went out and bought himself a tactical knife with the money he was now making from his job at the local diner. It was a bit extravagant, but if a blade was going to be his weapon of choice, he wanted something efficient. The girl had been walking home from school when he approached her. “Do you need a ride?” He had asked.

When she giggled and said yes, he drove past her house and to the nearest wooded area. He took his time this time. He took her by surprise. When she opened her mouth to scream, Blake put his hand over it.

“Shut up. If you scream, you won't have any chance of survival. But if you cooperate, I might let you go. So shut. Up.” Of course Blake had lied. She whimpered into his hand, but when he took it away from her mouth, she didn't emit any noise.

“Good.” He had said, nodding to himself. Then he started to slice and carve. Blake dug his knife into her delicate frame without regret. About halfway through, she began to cry quietly. When he became bored and her body was laying lifeless from blood loss, he soaked her in gasoline and lit a match. It wasn't exactly subtle, but disposing of the DNA was easier this way at least. Plus, lighting the fire was just that much more satisfying. He threw his blood soaked shirt into the flames along with his pants. Blake grabbed the backpack he had with him and pulled out the extra set of clothes and the package of wet wipes. He used several wet wipes on his arms and blade and threw the wipes into the fire as well. He changed quickly and sped walked back to where his car was parked on the gravel just outside of the forest. He got the hell out of dodge.

News spread quickly about that one. It was a tragedy for her family and the whole town mourned. Some people from Blake's town knew the girl as well. The investigation was launched straight away. But since Blake was always careful with checking for witnesses, he was never a suspect. There was no reason for them to suspect Blake anyway. He was an honor student and quarterback of the football team. Blake always wore the mask of a friendly, happy-go-lucky teenager in public. Eventually, they let that one go too. Blake welled with a sick sort of pride. Lucia's murder was a little bit too risky though. He could have easily gotten caught. He needed to be more careful next time. It hit Blake that he was already planning out a “next time”. But he felt positive that there would indeed be a “next time”. That should have been terrifying, but it just fueled Blake's enthusiasm instead.

Blake was ecstatic after he pulled off that second murder. He was overjoyed, in fact. He thought Jasper would be happy for him. Not happy for him murdering the girl, but rather happy for him being happy. Blake thought that there would be some more bonding, some cheerful conversation, and then they would watch more movies and maybe even cuddle a little. The last part was wishful thinking. But when Blake saw Jasper after his second kill, he seemed displeased. Blake had invited him over for some “bro time,” and Jasper agreed, but when he got there, the look of concern he once wore had returned and this time there was a bit of fear intermingled with it.
“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Blake had commented with a chuckle when Jasper stepped inside the house.
Jasper shook his head almost solemnly and then stared at Blake for a bit. “I just- I have a lot on my mind I guess.” He ran a hand through his long, auburn hair as if he was demonstrating just that.
“Oh. Well okay. That's understandable. Midterms are coming up. And isn't there an art show around the corner? I can see where stress would come into play.” Blake tried his best to be comforting, but he wasn't exactly good at that sort of thing. Empathy wasn't his strong suit. Clearly.
Jasper just nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he murmured. He cleared his throat and shook his head again like he was trying to chase away a thought or memory. “Yeah that's probably it.” Then Jasper grinned sadly. Jasper side-eyed Blake throughout the rest of his stay. Jasper looked almost suspicious and every time Blake caught him doing it, he quickly looked away.

Three months after Lucia, Blake was hungry for another kill. Children seemed to be the easiest targets. They were vulnerable and weak and nearly all of them were gullible as fuck. So Blake's next target was another kid. Six this time. Another boy. His eyes were big and blue and he had an adorable speech impediment. He led him into the woods just like he did with little boy number one. This kid, Henry he said his name was, was innocent beyond belief. When Blake pulled out his knife, Henry didn't scream. He was just confused. He didn't understand what was happening until it was too late and Blake was hacking into his soft flesh. The fire last time had brought too much attention to the crime scene, so Blake had a hole already prepared for the boy. He had been rather clean with this kill. As he was cheerfully packing in the last of the dirt, he heard the sound of a twig snapping. Blake jumped and looked frantically around. But he didn't have to look for long because his gaze connected with a familiar figure. A wiry body stood maybe twenty feet away from him. His mouth was agape and his hazel eyes were filled with horror. Blake stood there for a bit in silence, looking at the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at Jasper. After a while, the silence became too much.

“How much did you see?” Blake practically whispered. He never meant for this to happen. Jasper wasn't supposed to find out. Jasper had a specific image of Blake and now, due to his own stupidity, the image was shattered. The cat was out of the bag. The beans had been spilled. There was no use even trying to come up with an excuse. It's not like he could ever lie very well to Jasper anyway.

“All of it. I saw all of it.” Jasper's voice trembled and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Who could blame him though? He'd just seen Blake rip into a kindergartener like a Thanksgiving turkey. Hell, if Blake had watched himself do it, he'd probably be cowering in fear too.
“Jasper-” Blake started.
“No. C-Can I just speak for once?” Jasper's whole body was quaking and he didn't wait for an answer from Blake to continue.
“I didn't want to believe it. I knew there was something off about you lately. I mean, there's always been something off about you,” Jasper snorted out a laugh, but there was no real humor behind it, “But in the past couple of years, you've grown colder. More distant. I was scared of you. You started to scare me, Blake,” tears were steadily falling down his cheeks now, “I could see the predator in you. And it-it terrified the shit out of me. But I just. I didn't want to believe it.” a sob wretched out of Jasper's throat. Blake blinked. He had never seen Jasper cry before. Not once in their ten years of friendship. Jasper took a breath, trying to steady his trembling voice, “When that girl was killed a while back, I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I remember that we were supposed to hang out that day. But you came up with a piss poor excuse. I had a feeling you were responsible for her death. And I was right, wasn't I?” He looked at Blake with red-rimmed eyes. Blake longed for that wide, blinding grin to return. The one that Jasper wore especially for Blake. He had a feeling that he wouldn't get to see it for a while. Blake didn't want to hurt Jasper anymore, but with Jasper this vulnerable and damaged, he felt like he couldn't lie anymore. Might as well put it all out into the open. Rather than answering with words, Blake nodded. He nodded like so many of his victims had. He nodded, but couldn't find it in himself to regret his actions. This seemed to break Jasper even further. Blake wasn't sure what to do in this situation. He couldn't apologize because he wasn't sorry.
“I was responsible for that missing boy last year. Murdered him too,” Blake wasn't sure why he said that. He was taken aback by himself. He wasn't sure if he was just tired of keeping it to himself or if he just genuinely wanted Jasper to know. A part of him wanted Jasper to praise him for his kills, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Jasper raised a quivering hand slowly to his mouth, covering it. His ever lovely eyes were filled with fright. The sobs were muffled, but they were loud regardless.

Jasper shook his head. “No. No no no. No!” He said the word like a prayer, perhaps begging for the statement to be false. Blake took a step towards Jasper and Jasper backed away.
“It's okay. It's okay, Jasper. Nobody's caught me. I'm being safe. It's okay.” Blake was trying to soothe Jasper, his voice filled with affection. Jasper continued shaking his head.
“No, Blake. It's not okay. Killing people is not okay.” Jasper spat the words at him. His face was contorted in disgust. Blake inched forward a bit more, testing the waters. Jasper's hand flew to his pocket.

“You need help. You don't have to be like this. We can get you the help you need. We can fix you,” though the words were intended to comfort, they cut into Blake like the knife that was nestled in his back pocket. Jasper wanted him to change? If Blake had revealed his true self to Jasper in the beginning, would they still have been friends? Blake felt like his heart had been split in two.
“I don't need your help. I don't want to be fixed. This is how I am. This is how I always will be. Your little mission to save me is doomed to fail.” Blake seethed. Jasper's hand was moving in his pocket, his phone was in there without a doubt. He was probably dialing 911 as they spoke. No, he was definitely dialing 911. Blake narrowed his eyes.
“Trust me, Blake. There is hope. You're a good person. You just need help,” Jasper's voice was still shaky as he said this. Blake began to inch forward once again. Jasper stood frozen in place. It was as if he was trying to seem unafraid. That was clearly not the case. Jasper's whole body shook and it looked like his knees were about to give out. Blake continued walking towards Jasper and didn't stop until he was nearly touching noses with the other boy.

“You. Can't. Fix. Me.” Blake punctuated each word with ire. Jasper was breathing heavily. Tears were still falling. Blake's first thought was that he looked strangely beautiful. He stared into Jasper's eyes, proving his dominance, until Jasper looked away.

“No. Look at me.” Blake grabbed his face and forced his gaze back. Jasper reluctantly complied.

“I know you called the cops. They're probably already on their way,” Blake sighed, “I'm going to get locked up. That's for sure.” Blake hesitated before uttering his next words, “But before that, there's just one last thing I have to do. One thing that I've been thinking about for quite a while now.” Blake gripped the handle that stuck out of his jeans. Jasper didn't move. It was as if he had accepted his face. Or maybe he was just as clueless as little Henry had been. Blake tugged the blade out of his pocket and gracefully plunged it into Jasper's chest. Blake stared into his eyes all the while. Even if he had been expecting the act, Jasper's eyes displayed shock and his mouth was agape. It was then that Blake finally started to weep.

“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled as he stroked Jasper's hair. “I'm sorry it had to be like this.” He twisted the blade and Jasper emitted a pained groan. The blood that seeped from his chest was scarlet and stood out in contrast to his pale skin. Blake's dirty face was visibly streaked with tears. Jasper's breaths were getting more and more congested and Blake just dug the knife dipper.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Blake continued this litany. He continued running his hand through Jasper's hair. Jasper was opening and closing his mouth as if he was a fish out of water. He tried several times to string a few words together, perhaps in protest, but nothing came out. Blake held Jasper's body close, hugging him. The blood that was dripping from Jasper's chest soaked through Blake's shirt. But Blake didn't care. He had finally gotten what he had fantasized about so long ago. It was bittersweet. On one hand, Blake took joy in Jasper's quickly fading breath, but on the other, he would never get to see that easy-going smile or those lively eyes that he had grown so fond of. When Jasper's body became too heavy to hold up any longer, presumably weighed down by death, he lowered him to the ground, but didn't let go. Blake sobbed into Jasper's hair and gripped him tightly. He sobbed until tears couldn't come out anymore. The police found him thirty minutes later, still draped over Jasper's lifeless body. 


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