#doomed rosekiller

"Maybe you never did"

One morning, Barty wakes up, dazed and disorientated, wondering who this man he's with is.

Evan plays along for a while, until eventually he goes "ha-ha, very funny, joke's over now".

But Barty still looks confused. Scared.

barty who had enough. who burned everything he touched. barty who lashed out, thinking if he hurt everyone around him enough, he would be free from the pain.

barty who gave up. he smashed the mirror, fell to his knees. shaking. not crying. resolved.

dragged his half-functional body down the hill from his house.

the tree. names carved in, everyone in his family. some had tapestries. he had a tree.

pathetic.

his father, shouting. not calling him back, just insulting.

he tied the knot with shaky hands. he knew though, knew this was the only way. maybe he'd be freed

pupils wide. manic. insane. scared, scared, scared.

he climbed on the small stool the groundskeeper had. he had taken it earlier. now it was taking him.

jumped off the stool.

crack.

quick. painless.

crouch sr looks out from the porch. dissapointed. he raised barty better than this. weak filth.

Evan. a week has passed. he misses his best friend, turned something else when the lights are out. a shameful procedure, pleasure, humiliation.

he misses his touch, his tongue. his companionship.

he sees the tree. is that? he sprints. his knees hit the ground. pain shoots up his thighs.

gutteral sobs. barty swings in the breeze. lifeless, limp. gone

gone, gone, gone

he screams, sobs, cries, wails

people hear

they come. they laugh at him

they laugh and laugh. the sensitive cripple and the dead preacher's son

how pathetic. they point

jeer.

Evan doesnt care.

Evan makes his decision. if he cannot have barty, the world cannot have him.

weeks later, summer break ends

the groundskeeper comes back

sees the tree. his jaw slackens

from the tree, two heads. two torsos. four arms, four legs

two pairs of shoes, laces fluttering in the wind.

together in death.

forever.