Evan's Blue

(Yes, the story is named after a band. 😄)
This is a four part story I wrote about a school shooting. Please let me know if I should bother posting the other three parts. (And if you think something needs to be put in spoilers for explictness). Anywho, on with the show.

FYI:
Part one--Luke's pov
Part two--Evan's pov
Part three--Mix pov
Part four--Luke's pov

Copyright: I own all the characters. And the plot. Steal it and die. I will find you.
Contains–Language, Violence, Substance abuse, Abuse, Character Death
Chaos. Panic. Disorder. My work here is done.

Evan’s Blue pt 1: The Outsider

“Give me your economic’s paper.”
I rolled my eyes. Great. Here we go again.
“Not a chance in hell,” my friend Evan leaned back in the metal chair, a smile playing on his thin lips.
“What did you say?”
“Did I stutter?” he asked mockingly.
I knew what was coming. These fights were almost as frequent as rain in the amazon.
“Do you really want to mess with me, Evan? I’m sure by now you know what I’m capable of.”
Evan’s smirk broadened arrogantly and I couldn’t help but sigh. Why couldn’t we just be invisible? Even if only for a day.
“You ended that sentence with a preposition–bastard.”
Tyan, one of Louis Senior High’s quarterbacks who had been harassing Evan, angrily snaked his arms around Evan’s throat, wrestling him into a headlock. Evan responded by swiftly elbowing his challenger in the lower abdomen, making Tyan grunt.
As usual all hell broke lose.
Though I’d stayed out of the conversation, I soon found myself flat on the floor with one of Tyan’s cronies straddling me. The guy had swung his arm back, preparing to beat my face in, when I managed to kick him in the groin. Needless to say, he was the one lying on his back moments later.
Normally I wouldn’t resort to such a tactic, but I really didn’t feel like getting my ass kicked today.
As I jumped to my feet my surroundings began to blur. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and I couldn’t think clearly. All I could feel, and hear, was the sound of my heart beating rapidly.
I vaguely remember jumping and someone yelling, but that was it. The sound of my heart beating was deafening.
“Boys! Break it up! I said BREAK-IT-UP!”
A large, meaty paw grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me off the guy I was trying to strangle. Coach Mitchell glared at me in disgust, his beady eyes trying to burn through me.
“They started it,” an ashen Tyan choked as soon as I reluctantly let go of him. I don’t even remember jumping on him.
“Bullshit,” Evan panted, sweat adorning his pale face. He was being restrained by Jacob Adler, a random bystander, on Coach Mitchell’s orders. “That’s total bullshit.”
“What’s going on here?” an all to familiar voice asked. I could see the principal’s balding, stout self weaving towards us through the growing crowd.
“These ingrates were trying to kill my football teams most valuable players!”
Principal Beck sighed heavily while peering at us over the top of his thick rimmed glasses. I felt something warm trickle down from my nose, and instinctively used my sleeve to wipe it away. Blood. Wonderful.
“Evan, Lucas; meet me in my office, please,” Beck ordered sternly.
Evan violently jerked away Jacob’s grip with a sneer, while I was merely let go. Together we began our condemning journey to the principal’s office, taking our precious time. I drug my feet lazily while Evan stomped beside me.
“This is complete bullshit,” Evan was still fuming. I cautiously glanced over at him. His shirt was ripped at the sleeve, his lower lip swollen and oozing a small flow of blood, and his left eye sported the start of a wicked shiner.
“It’s always our fault they try to kick our ass.”
“Asses,” I corrected him jokingly, but he ignored me and carried on.
“I’m tired of being pushed around! I’m tired of being treated like shit! I get enough of this at home!”
Suddenly he stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Grabbing me by the upper arm, he hastily turned me so I was facing him.
“This has got to stop.”
I smirked at him. “That’ll happen about the same time Mischa Barton professes her undying love for me.”
“I’m being serious, Luke,” he whispered harshly as we started walking again.
“Fine,” I said. “Tell Beck and maybe he’ll–”
“Beck won’t do a fu-king thing. You and I both know that. If something’s going to be done, I’m going to have to do it myself.”
“Evan,” I sighed but he cut me off.
“No, dammit! I can’t take anymore!”
“I know,” I whispered, and mock punched his arm. “But did you see Tyan’s face? So worth it.”
“Yeah,” he smiled lightly, while running a hand through his messy, black hair. “Especially when you lost it and bit his ear.”

*

Evan seemed fine after that. Even when I think back on it, every fight we’d gotten into, he was always the same; all smack one minute, normal the next. Why should this time have been any different? But it was. If only I’d done something–maybe, just maybe things would have gone down differently.

*

Blue: Have you ever wanted revenge so badly, it hurts?

I glanced up from my Physics homework to the IM that had popped up on my computer screen.

Lukaz: Are you still pissed about this afternoon? Dude, all we got was detention.
Blue: You didn’t answer my question.
Lukaz: Yes, I’ve wanted revenge before.
Blue: Have you ever wanted revenge on more than one person?
Lukaz: ...not all at once.
Blue. Did you want to kill them? Make them suffer?
Lukaz:...Evan, what’s going on?

I stared at my screen, confused. Something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was what he’d said-the way he’d said it. Or maybe I was just over analytical. Gritting my teeth, I typed “Talk to me, Evan.” But before I could hit enter, Evan IM-ed back.

Blue: So, are you going to watch the game tonight?

The mood of the conversation had changed, so I didn’t prod Evan about what he’d said. I knew he wouldn’t answer me. He always kept things from me. That was the kind of relationship we had. We were close, but still had an unspoken policy of “ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.” I was use to him making threats and comments about things that irritated him. If I’d turned him in every time he’d made a threat, he’d have been put in jail in the sixth grade. This time shouldn’t have been any different.
God, if only I had known.

*

Evan didn’t mention the conversation after that, so neither did I. The next morning when I woke up, I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day. It was cloudy and cold outside, hot and humid inside, and I’d just remembered about the history test I had second hour. I didn’t have time to study; I was already running late. It turns out one can fall asleep while taking a shower.

So when I saw another IM flashing on my computer, I couldn’t stifle the groan rising in my throat. I stumbled over to my desk, while still trying to pull my jeans on, and clicked the message.

Blue: Stay home today.
Lukaz: What are you talking about, Evan?

But he never got the message. He’d logged off as soon as I’d started typing. I resumed my pant escapade of jumping up and down, trying to get my left foot unstuck. Sadly, gravity has something against me and I lost my balance.
“Dammit!” I grumbled loudly as I toppled to the floor.
----
Should I post part two or not? Let me know. Thanks! 💃
Sorry about any spelling/grammar mistakes.

*cricket chirp*

Oh well....I'll keep posting it anyway.

Onto my second favorite chapter of the four. Yay!

Evan’s Blue pt 2: Inside Perspective (Evan)

“Give me your economic’s paper,” a raspy voice commanded from behind me. My friend Luke, who sat across from me, rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Not a chance in hell.” Leaning back, I took a swig of my tepid Coke. This was going to be a long day.
“What did you say?” the voice asked irritably. I knew who it was. Tyan Maur, my second least favorite person in the world. Tyan was a senior, football player at the school we both attended–Louis High. The town we inhabited may be small, but money and politics still controlled everything here.
If you didn’t have power, you didn’t have anything. Like me.
“Did I stutter?” I taunted Tyan. I looked down at the soda in my hands. My fingers harshly pushed into the cool aluminum, bending it to my will. It was the only way I could keep from losing my temper.
“Do you really want to mess with me, Evan?” he asked, hissing my name like it was poison to his tongue. “I’m sure by now you know what I’m capable of.”
I couldn’t repress my grin from flourishing to a smile. Luke let out a heavy sigh and shook his head in defeat. He knew me all too well.
“You ended that sentence with a preposition—bastard.”
Before I could so much as blink, Tyan’s bulky arms twisted around my neck and he tried to drag me out of my chair. I jutted my elbow back into his stomach, making him grunt. Too bad it wouldn’t do any permanent damage. After regaining his composure, he managed to heave me up and pin me to the wall next to us. I grinned down at him audaciously until his right fist connected with my eye. I winced in pain but managed to kick out at him, catching his right knee cap. This wasn’t very effective. In fact, it earned me another savage blow to the face. The metallic taste of blood seeped onto my tongue, and an idea struck me.
Hocking as much of the blood as I could, I spit. But instead of hitting the intended target, his eye, I drooled down the front of his shirt. Close enough.
“You son of a bit—”
Before Tyan could finish, Luke came up behind him and jumped on his back,. I was released as Luke tightened his grip on Tyan’s throat. Though painful, the smirk returned to my bloody lips. I watched in a slight daze, as Tyan spun around and tried to ferociously slam Luke into the wall, but lost his balance. Tyan’s eyes grew wide and he let out a shrill scream. Luke had chomped down on his ear as he attempted to choke him. As I went to assist, someone grabbed me from behind, restraining me.
“Boys! Break it up! I said BREAK–IT–UP!”
My eyes narrowed to minuscule slits as Coach Mitchell wrenched Luke off of Tyan. Tyan, as best as he could, choked out, “They started it.”
“Bullshit,” I panted as I struggled against my captor. “That’s total bullshit!”
“What’s going on here?” the voice of my principal singed my ears as he arrived at the scene.
“These ingrates were trying to kill my football team’s most valuable players!” Mitchell whined pathetically. Principal Beck stopped in front of us with a sigh. He peered over the rim of his outdated glasses at the commotion before him. I knew who he would side with. It was always the same. It was who the teachers sided with.
The popular crowd.
Gag me with a straw full of cliches already.
“Evan, Lucas; meet me in my office, please.”
What did I tell you? Can I call it or what? We’re never given the benefit of the doubt. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? That shit just went down the drain. I tore away from Jacob Adler, the one who’d been holding me back, and stormed off down the hall. My feet slammed against the tile floor harshly, shooting pain up my legs, but I didn’t care. I was pissed. The urge to slam my fit into a locker was becoming more overwhelming with each step.
“This is bullshit,” I spat as Luke strode beside me quietly. He looked like he got off better than I did. His nose and shirt were bloody, and he was gasping a bit, but otherwise he seemed fine.
“It’s always our fault that they try to kick our ass.”
“Asses,” Luke joked at me lightly. But I was in no mood for jokes. This wasn’t funny any more.
“I’m tired of being pushed around! I’m tired of being treated like shit! I get enough of this at home!” I stopped and turned him so he faced me. “This has got to stop.”
A mischievous smirk broadened across Luke’s tanned face. “That’ll happen about the same time Mischa Barton professes her undying love for me.”
“I’m being serious, Luke,” I whispered more fiercely than I’d intended to, as we started walking again.
“Fine,” he said nonchalantly. “Tell Beck and maybe he’ll–”
“Beck won’t do a f-cking thing. You and I both know that,” I laughed harshly at his ludicrous suggestion. I knew he was trying to help, but let’s get back to the real world here. “If something’s going to be done, I’m going to have to do it myself.”
“Evan,” Luke sighed gustily but I cut him off.
“No, dammit! I can’t take anymore!” And I couldn’t. He had no idea what it was like. He had money and a loving family. I didn’t.
‘I know,” he whispered and lightly punched my arm. “But did you see Tyan’s face? So worth it.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah. Especially when you lost it and bit his ear.”

*

Our conversation made the pain tolerable for a short while. But every time I had time to dwell on that afternoon’s events, the angrier I became.
It didn’t help that Beck had called my parents, meaning my ass was toast when I got home. That was enough for me to want not want to leave school. I hate home.
My step dad is an abusive drunk who cares more about his twenty side whores than my mom. Then again, she’s not much better. Always turning my step dad’s brutal aim at me rather than her. She wants out. I want out. But she won’t do a thing about it. I’m stuck in this hell hole.
Before my older brother Chad ran away he promised me he would come back for me–soon. I was ten when he said that. I haven’t heard from him since. He’s probably dead or in prison some where. At least that’s what I hope. That’s what he deserves.
So when I stepped in the house around 3:30 PM, I knew I was done for. My nightmare was confirmed as an empty bottle of Turkey whizzed by my head.
“You good for nothing jackass!” my step dad, Joe, growled. I ducked as another bottle flew at me, and tenaciously ran for my room. No such luck. Joe pulled off his black leather belt and began snapping it at me, making idle threats as he backed me into a corner. There was no room. I couldn’t escape.
I dropped my backpack on the floor as the stinging leather snapped at my back. I curled into a ball to protect myself as much as I could. Repeatedly, I was thrashed like a slave. My skin pleaded for mercy as blood oozed onto my already ruined shirt. I bit my swollen lip to prevent the tears in my eyes from spilling. It didn’t work, just added to the immense pain coursing through me.
Joe grabbed me by the back of my neck and lifted me to my feet.
“Sissy boy,” he spat at me. “Only a sissy cowers away. Face me like a man, you useless bastard.”
He threw me back against the paneled wall and kicked me for a few good measures. All the while he muttered incoherent curses at me, occasionally spitting.
“Retched son of a b*tch. I should kill you. You worthless piece of shit.”
The beating continued for what felt like forever. I was at the point I couldn’t take anymore pain. I wanted him to kill me. I couldn’t hold myself together any longer.
Finally, after one last blow to the ribs, he grabbed me by my shirt and drug me to my room. My bag was thrown at my feet and the door slammed shut and locked.
“Don’t think you’ll be getting dinner tonight, b*tch.”
As soon as he was out of ear shot, I grabbed my pillow and placed it over my face. Laughter spilled from my lips as I threw myself back onto my bed. I wasn’t laughing because this was funny. Nothing about it was even slightly humorous. The pain was so intense, my eyes so dry, that all I could do was laugh or die. And I wasn’t lucky enough for the latter.
I lay in my personal prison, laughing in the face of pain, until finally I passed out.

The rest of part 2...since it was "too long". Yergh.

Around 7:00 PM I awoke again, now in the total darkness. My head was throbbing and my body ached mercilessly. Breathing almost wasn’t worth the effort. But still I managed to make my way over to my computer. Only one person could make things seem better.
As I eased myself into the seat at my desk I couldn’t help but groan. I kept thinking I couldn’t hurt any worse when new throbs cropped up.
Once I had successfully logged onto my IM, I looked up to see if Luke was online. For once, luck was on my side; he was online.
My fingers trembled violently as I began typing the first thing that came to mind.

Blue: Have you ever wanted revenge so badly, it hurts?

Literally hurts. I stared lazily at the blinking cursor on my screen as I awaited a response. After a long few minutes, I received one.

Lukaz: Are you still pissed about this afternoon? Dude, all we got was detention.

Yeah. All he got was detention. But I didn’t say that. Instead I went back to the subject at hand.

Blue: You didn’t answer my question.
Lukaz: Yes, I’ve wanted revenge before.
Blue: On more than one person?
Lukaz: ...not all at once.
Blue. Did you want to kill them? Make them suffer?
Lukaz:...Evan, what’s going on?

He’d asked the question I knew was inevitable. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. He didn’t need to know. Ignorance is bliss as they say; whoever they is.

Blue: So, are you going to watch the game tonight?

Luke doesn’t know that my step dad beats me. He doesn’t know that I want out. I don’t drop on him every time I get hurt. I would become a parasite if I did–always taking, never giving. Using. And I couldn’t do that.
After another half an hour of talking, I crashed. Staring at the bright screen fatigued me, so I crawled back into my warm, inviting bed. Sleep engulfed me quickly, but didn’t do much good. Torment began with a dream. A dream that drove me. A dream that haunted me, taunted me.
As I tossed, as I turned, as I continuously woke doused in sweat, it killed me. I felt numb. Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to go through with it.
I had to.
It was after midnight when I logged back onto the Internet. This time I wasn’t on to talk, I was on to look. Look for clues. For tips. For help.
Without thinking, I typed in the first thing I could think of. The word seemed to be on fire as my eyes bore it into my memory.
Columbine.

*

Five o’clock in the morning. A wretched time to wake up–unless you’ve been up most of the night. Like me.
I held my breath as I twisted the handle to my door–unlocked. Joe must have unlocked it while I was indisposed. That or my mom finally grew the balls to come and do it.
Such a feat was to my advantage. Quietly, I snuck down the hall to where they were located; lying in a wooden cabinet, not secure at all. Just waiting—asking—begging for me to take them.
So I willingly obliged.

Well this is going just as expected. ECHO! EcHo! echo... Who ****ing cares...

Bold-Evan
Reg-Luke

Warning: Graphic ahead. Well.....ish.

Evan’s Blue pt 3: Take this to your grave

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.
With one hand on the wheel and the other hand holding a bottle I made my way down the road. I had had to shower and change before leaving home. I couldn’t have gone the way I was. Of course, I could have said it was my own blood, which would only be half a lie, technically.
Still covered with markings, still feeling completely numb, I took another sip from the bottle in my hand, letting the contents soothe the back of my throat. My stomach was warm and full, but I couldn’t stop. I needed the courage. I needed the strength. The whiskey gave me that.
I downed the last of it as I pulled into the parking lot at school. Luke’s Toyota was sitting in the parking space he always parked it in. Damn him. Didn’t he get the message? It was too late to stop now. I’d just have to make him leave.
______________________

I didn’t heed his warning. I needed to know what he was getting at. What the message meant.
So I stood by his locker, waiting for him to show up. Tyan and a few of his buddies passed me, making crude remarks along the way. But I didn’t care. Seeing Tyan bandaged and looking like a complete idiot was worth it. You could even see where my hands had been around his throat. Talk about priceless.
I just hoped when Evan eventually ran into them, he would see it the same way. I really don’t need detention for the rest of my life.

______________________
No one could see them, hidden in the towels, stuffed inside my backpack. No one questioned why the pack bulged more than usual. No one suspected a thing.
That day, it was pointless to stop by my locker. I didn’t need any books. My homework lay forgotten at the bottom–never to be finished. My lunch still sat on the kitchen counter at home, never to be eaten. Nothing materialistic mattered. Not today.
Yet, I stopped by my locker anyway. I had to keep up with appearances. I couldn’t have anyone getting...suspicious. Plus, I needed to find Luke.
As I reached my locker, I found him leaning coolly against it, watching me approach.
“What the hell was that IM about this morning?” he asked, and stepped out of the way so I could work the combination lock. I racked my mind for a suitable lie. Faking a small smile, I began entering my combo.
33-16-4
“I just figured you didn’t want to be here today, considering Tyan probably wants to murder you for damaging his perfect looks.”
Luke snorted at me and rolled his eyes. “I already saw him. He looks like a complete jackass. He looks like a teletubby with his head bandaged up like it is.”
“I bet he’s the gay one,” I shook my head, still smiling. It took the smallest thing to make Luke happy. He chuckled slightly at my stupid joke while readjusting his backpack.
“So,” he sighed but was still smiling. “Is everything okay?”
His gaze bore into me, making me want to tell him the truth. But I couldn’t. Not ever.
“Yeah. Sorry about last night, I was just pissed,” I lied as I grabbed the book I needed and shut my locker. Luke ran a hand through his hair and stared at me.
“I figured as much. Next time, be a bit less melodramatic, dude.”
He stressed “dude” by slapping me on the back.
I couldn’t help it. I flinched. I could feel my eyes water as I bit my bruised and swollen lip. The pain which was numb, now woke and pulsed through out my frame. My grip tightened around the book I was holding.
Luke studied me with a frown.
“You okay, man?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine,” I grumbled through clinched teeth. “Just sore from yesterday, is all.”
“I’d better go or I’ll be late for first period,” Luke said as the bell sounded. As I headed to class I watched Luke hastily disappear down the hallway. I had to come up with a plan to get him to leave.
And I only had two hours to do it.
*

The first two hours went quickly and as planned. Everyone remained oblivious to the threat. For two hours I determine my targets, and created a list. All while my teachers raddled on about “Civil War this.” “Calculate that.” Like I really cared. My calculations were done. My war was about to begin.
Hate to disappoint you if you expect beautiful roses and sweet kisses to come from this . From my hell. Blood roses and kisses of death that choose a certain collective, maybe. But nothing sweet nor beautiful can I bestow.
My plan was on it’s way. Nothing can stop me now.
“Evan.”
Yanked from my belligerent thoughts, I turned around. Innocence painted my face, what a marvelous disguise.
“I bombed it. I ****ing bombed the test. I’m telling you,” Luke complained as we met after second hour. Every day we would talk on the way to Psychology 213. Never about anything important, just whatever we felt like. Such as failing a history test that evil Napoleonic power mongers bestowed on us.
“You’re so lucky you have Mr. James and not Mr. Peterson. He is the spawn of Satan, I swear it. If he dropped dead tomorrow, I honestly won’t miss him. Hell, I’d probably throw a party to celebrate.”
There’s one more to add to my list. If Luke wanted him gone, then so be it.
Unlike the first two hours, third period lasted forever. We were on my favorite topic. Actually, the topic one of the reasons I’d chosen today to go through with my plan. That and I’d had enough of the abuse I was receiving.
The topic was “In the mind of a killer.” I sat and listened to the people on the video we were watching. Each gave signs that each murderer they knew presented. Distant. Quiet. Alone. Sometimes abused . Mentally, physically, sexually... I couldn't help but pay close attention to the case of a school shooting when it came on. Columbine. After what I’d read last night, none of this was new. I just wondered, would I ever compare? My heart flipped in my chest at the thought. I wasn’t doing this for the fame. Merely the revenge.
The bell rang at 11:15am. Lunch time. The perfect time. Everyone was would be in one the same room. Less chasing, less chance of getting caught.
Luke was quickly at my side as we exited along with everyone else.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He was watching me with the same gaze as he had that morning. One of concern.
“Fine. Why?”
“I tried getting your attention during the film but you were seriously engrossed.”
I snorted. He had no idea.
“That or asleep,” he joked before stopping right outside the lunchroom doorway. “Damn, I forgot my lunch. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in a few minutes, okay?”
I nodded and he trudged back up the cream colored stairway, students flooding by him. Now I didn’t have to make him leave. He was gone, his locker on the other side of the school. I would have plenty of time.
I took a seat at the nearest table and looked around the lunch room. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my brow was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. There was a group of girls laughing and gossiping to my left. To my right, the football players and their girlfriends were laughing at some obscene joke someone had just told. Among them were my targets. All awaiting their fate with no haste.
Slowly, I unzipped my bag. My eyes darted left to right, scanning where the lunch supervisors were. Sad isn’t it? High school students need supervisors. At lunch no less. Too bad they’re only worrying about whose been throwing mustard covered bologna on the ceiling. I’m sure that’ll change after today.
I grabbed the first one my fingers touched and cocked it. That was the tech nine. Discretely, I hid the gun in my hoodie pocket, before grabbing and cocking the other gun. The 10mm Colt. Both fully loaded. Both safeties off.
Even as I got to my feet I kept my hand on the guns, ready to aim. I’d had plenty of practice that morning, so I knew what to expect. I wasn’t going in blind. I wasn’t stupid.
Carefully, I made my way over to my first prize of the afternoon.
“Stand up,” I commanded once I’d reached him. The laughter at the table died down as all the jocks stopped to listen in. Tyan turned around in his chair with a smug look on his face.
“What?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Stand up,” I repeated my order. Some of his friends exchanged amused glances. Tyan, however, did as he was told for a change.
“You think you can take me, Evan. Go ahead,” Tyan offered up coyly. As I took another step towards him I tightened my grip on the 10mm.
“You’re a worthless bastard,” I provoked him. “Once one, always one. All the money in the world couldn’t change that.”
“Ooh. I’m so hurt,” he mocked me to his friends. “Why don’t you just do us all a favor and go to hell?”
I wasn’t even hesitant.
“You first.’
I whipped the 10mm out, aimed it at his heart, and pulled the trigger.
Bang.
I didn’t even pause to watch him die. He was dead before he hit the floor. I’d just blown half his chest all over the football team. He wasn’t going to walk away from that.
The room was silent. Every eye was on me and the gun in my hand. No one moved. No one breathed. Not even the teachers. But as quickly as the silence began, it ended. Rainne, Tyan’s girlfriend, let out a shrill scream. This pulled one of the linebackers out of their daze and he jumped to his feet. Obviously he wasn’t thinking very clearly. Without even blinking I pointed and shot.
Bang.

Bang.
I stopped dead in my tracks. That was a gun shot. I was almost at my locker, but I could still tell where it came from. And that was were I’d just left.
Bang. Bang.
I ran as fast as my feet would let me back to the lunch room.
_________

Rainne was still screaming only a few feet away from me. The screeching sound was starting to grate on what was left of my nerves.
“Shut up,” I yelled at her. But she didn’t. If anything, she screamed louder.
Bang.
The screaming stopped at last. Only the sobbing from her friends as they comforted her could be heard.
“Why are you doing this?” Emily, one of Rainne’s friends whispered. Her stare, which had been glued on me, flittered for a moment. Realizing what that meant, I pulled out the tech nine with my free hand, pointed, and shot Coach Mitchell and my art teacher, Mr. Vase. Both were trying to come at me from behind. I had nothing against Vase. But Mitchell...this was for booting me off the soccer team in the eighth grade, just so Michael Laud could join the team. Not to mention he was always a complete ass to me.
I couldn’t delay any longer. My targets had to be sought.
Bang.
Michael Laud. Not just for getting me kicked off the soccer team. He often stole from me. Usually my Physics homework. Sometimes my money. Once, my girlfriend. Payback time.
Bang.
Forrest Goodman. A fifteen year old jock who wouldd steal my food while Tyan beat the shit out of me. Eat this fatty.
Bang.
Emily Holloway. We’d dated in the seventh grade. She left me for Michael. I hold a grudge a long time. Break my heart, and I’ll break yours.
Bang.
Jacob Adler and Jordyn Coffey. The bullet was meant for Adler for holding me back. A geek shouldn’t turn on a fellow geek. If I’d killed Tyan then, this wouldn’t have had to happen. Jordyn I had no problem with. Sadly, the bullet only grazed Jacob’s arm and had kept going. In its way was Jordyn’s neck. From the amount of blood she spurted, I’m guessing it clipped her carotid artery. I should know, I aced Anatomy.
Bang.
Jenny Cho. I used to be the golden geek in the school. I got all the attention for my brilliance, until she came along. She was perfect in everything. Damn her for stealing my spotlight. Time to put it out.
Bang.
Erik Romero. Ratted me out last year to my Chemistry teacher to impress his friends. He told my teacher I’d plagiarized my paper on titration. Really, I’d just bullshited my way through it. My teacher didn’t believe me of course. Beck threatened to expel me until Romero confessed to his lie. Still, I hate being the butt of everyone’s jokes.
Bang.
Jake Forsche. Her brother, Conner, was in league with Tyan and his buddies. For three years he picked on me. This was the closeest thing I had to getting revenge on him, and it would have to do.
“EVAN!”
I was about to pull the trigger on Mr. Peterson, but someone stepped in my way.
“Put the gun down, Evan,” Luke begged, his voice cracking.
“Get out of the way.”
“No’ he countered, bravely. No one else pushed me. Everyone else was on the floor, cowering like the weaklings they are. “Put the guns down. End this now.”
“I don’t want to shoot you, Luke. Move,” my voice broke slightly. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t. I was doing this for us. Didn’t he see that? This would make life better.
“End this, Evan. Please.”
“Why should I?” I asked, glaring at him. He was sweating and shaking where he stood. It was barely noticeable, but still there. He was afraid of me. My best friend, my only friend, was afraid of me.
“I’m going to jail no matter what.”
“Evan, your parents, what are they going to–”
“My parents are dead,” I grinned callously at the memory of the morning. The blood that pooled on the blue sheets. The screams of pain emitted as they bled. The smell of death as I won.
“I–what?” his eyes widened as he stared at me.
“I offed them this morning. God knows they had it coming. It was still dark outside. All was quiet. Bang. Bang ,” I let out a stony laugh. “I’m a murdering orphan. I’ve got nothing to live for.”
“Evan—”
“No! God damn it! Now GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!”
“NO!”
Bang.
______________

“No, God damn it! Now GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!”
“NO!” I yelled back. I must be crazy. No, I am crazy. That’s the only explanation.
Bang.
The gun went off and I fell to the floor. I wasn’t quite sure why I fell. Mr. Peterson was on the floor behind me, covered in blood. I looked down curiously. I was covered in blood too. His blood, I think. No one was coming to help us. Evan still had his fatal weapon of rage. I glanced to my right. My right shoulder was drenched in blood—but I’d landed on my left side, so how did that—
Oh. Shit.
Pain coursed through me suddenly. It was as though seeing the blood informed my brain that “being shot hurts like hell.” He shot me. He actually shot me.
“Ahhhh....” I yelled as I grabbed my arm. The pain was making me lightheaded. I was losing a lot of blood.

____________

I shot him. I can’t believe I shot him. I shot Luke . Luke. My best friend. He was closer to me than my own flesh and blood, and I shot him.
I felt a prickling sensation behind my nose, and my eyes watered. And suddenly, I was crying. Tears of sadness. Tears of anger. Luke was right. This had to end. Here. And now. But I was also right. I would go to prison. I could last in prison. I just didn’t want too. I wanted it to end. All of it.
And I knew what I had to do.
___________

Tears were streaming down my face as I wallowed on the floor. I looked over at Mr. Peterson. He was dead, his eyes still open. The bullet had gone through my shoulder and into his chest. But it was as I lie there, feeling like I was going to die—wishing I would die already–that I heard the gun go off again.
Another body hit the floor. As did two guns.
I looked back over. Evan was lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head.
I began crying harder. As much as I hated him for what he’d done, I still loved him. He was my best friend. And my best friend had just murdered a bunch of people, including himself.
Shortly after the tears began, they ended. I saw flashing lights through the lunch room windows.
Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Red.
That was the last flash I saw before my world went cold and dark.

👆

I liked the Red Part the Most. leftright

^Thanks. I love the red part 😄

Evan’s Blue pt 4: All is numb

“We are gathered here today not to mourn those lost, but to remember them. Remember their courage. Their strengths. Their accomplishments. Their lives. Each and everyone of them touched the hearts of all of you here in one way or another. Let us now remember those taken from us on that fateful day:
Jordyn Coffey. Jake Forschee. Forrest Goodman. Danielle Holloway. Tyan Maur. Harold Mitchell. Allan Peterson. Erik Romero. Paul Sage.
May they all be in a better place.”

There was a minute of silence that followed. The high school students in the auditorium had their heads bowed. Some were crying. Others remembering. And even a few were just asleep.
As I stood by the exit doors in my dress suit and sling, I felt completely out of place. Not just because of my appearance, but for my reason. No one else would do what I was going to. No one else cared.
I turned to leave when Principal Beck announced that the football team was going to have a car wash to raise money for a memorial statue for the school. I should have cared, but I didn’t. After the shooting everyone treated me differently. My fellow peers addressed me as the police had when they came to question me.
How could you not know? Why did he do it? Why didn’t you say anything? Were you his accomplice?
Regardless of what I yelled, repeatedly, no one believed me. I was treated like white trash. Scum of the earth. Not worthy of the air I breath.
I didn’t know then why Evan did what he did. But I found out. The police showed me a picture of his body, and a note they found in the backpack where he had concealed the guns. The photo showed the markings, the bruises, the beatings, the scars. According to the coroner some of the scars were seven years old or more. X-rays bared the freshly broken bones he bore, and even detailed areas that contained wounds that had healed.
What he had been through explained more than just the shooting. It explained little things. Like why he always swam with a shirt on. Why he would change in a toilet stall during PE. Why he would flinch when I rough housed with him. Why he would stay at my house, but never invite me over to his.
Evan had been beaten. Beaten for nearly half of his life. And then in school he was abused more. The pain—the frustration—all of his pent up emotions exploded. Exploded in the form of a mass homicide at Louis Senior High.
No one seemed to realize that. Nor did they realize Evan wasn’t born a killer. He was driven to it. Though it didn’t justify them, the letter he wrote explained his actions and his emotions. The police made me read it during their questioning. I’d wanted to read it to the school, but Beck wouldn’t let me. He said the student body was too emotional and insecure for such a thing. Personally, I felt they needed to know they were partially responsible. Just like his parents, whose bodies were found shortly after the shootings.
After my name was finally cleared by the police, I transferred to another school. I couldn’t stand facing those demeaning stares everyday. I already felt guilty enough; the constant reminder wasn’t helping. I would never be the same. I bore witness to a bloody massacre created by someone I thought I knew. Yet no one treated me like I, too, was affected by it.
It had been three weeks since the shootings. My arm remained in a sling so my physical wounds would heal. The emotional scars I knew would be permanent. I would require counseling in the future to get over the guilt that filled me.
Most of the other targets injured had already been released; only two were in critical condition. Today the victims were being remembered through out the town. Black painted streets and sides of buildings in memory of those that died. There was only one person everyone refused to acknowledge.
Evan.
The state was kindly burying his remains today, in the cemetery by the Freeman Park. The one we’d rode bikes in together, fished at together, told ghost stories over bon fires at together. Memories only he and I had shared of the tranquil place. As far as I knew, I was the only one going there to see him buried. To see him one last time.
I didn’t want to. I had to.
I hated him so much that it hurt, but a part of me still cared. Part of me still loved the friend I remembered. Part of me needed closure. But mostly, part of me couldn’t hate him because he too had been a victim, just like the others. If only others saw it that way. But they never would.
I reached the cemetery as the burial was about to begin. Without thinking, I grabbed the first flower I saw by the grave next to me, and ran toward the site. The worker was about to push the fresh dirt pile onto the casket when he heard me yelling for him to wait.
“You have five minutes, kid,” the worker sighed and turned his construction machinery off.
“Thanks,”I breathed as I stood before the gapping hole Evan’s casket lay in. Tears began to pool in my eyes, and my chest grew tight. It shouldn’t have ended like this.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Blue. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most. Forgive me. If only I had known, maybe I could have helped you. I could have prevented this from ever happening. I should have known better. Forgive me, please; like I’ve forgiven you. I’m truly sorry.”
I tossed the flower I had been mindlessly twisting between my fingers onto the pale casket below me. As it landed with ease on the cool gray metal, I saw the flower for the first time.
A rose; pale, soft, fragile.
And Blue.

The End.