[5:27PM] [Day 6]
The Manor House was still and quiet, high above the rest of the island, looming down over all the terror befalling the students of George Hunter High School in their fight for survival.
The afternoon was slowly giving way to night, and the sky was filled with warm colors and a bright sun low in the western sky. The house looked out of place when compared to the rest of the island. A beautiful estate with two floors, seemingly made more beautiful with all it’s faults and damage the years and lack of care had done to it. Other buildings on the island were dilapidated and worn down, barely reminiscent of what they were in their prime, but not the Manor House. It stood firm and strong against the storms and decay.
The front of the building had gorgeous single-pane windows looking into the living room, with wine-colored velvet curtains framing either end. Inside, the living area was luxurious, featuring a large regal looking purple velvet sofa in the center of the room, and a large stone fireplace across from it. If you look a bit closer, the large area rug that covered the floor was stained red in certain areas, with marshmallows and playing cards strewn about all over. Nearby the sofa, a small wooden side table held a single lamp, and a glass coffee table was pushed off to the side. An upturned side table lay on the carpet near the entrance to the dining area, the vase in once held on the ground, the many colored stones inside it spilled half onto the ground around where it fell.
The dining area was similarly in a bit of disarray, the tables and chairs moved along the carpeted ground into what looked like a makeshift court. A glass curio stood off to the side, full of dusty knick knacks and plateware. A serving table adorned with crafts and decorative statuettes and vases was across the room, with a tall standing lamp beside it. The kitchen nearby was as messy as the rest of the first floor, items strewn about the tiled floor with sharp shards of glass from broken windows and cabinets littering the ground.
The main hall held the stairway to reach the top floor, the wooden banister masterfully carved into what looked like a sea of crashing waves going all the way up. Above, the metal chandelier hung still and stoic. The interlocking spirals twisting and turning into an almost gothic appeal. Upstairs, the bedrooms were nearly untouched, the master suite holding a king sized bed with a hand-carved frame and headboard. A large wooden armoire settled itself by the large window towards the back of the room, with a vanity covered in old perfume bottles and brushes and jewelry boxes framing the window from it’s other side. The guest room held almost the same, a few dressers and a smaller queen sized bed with a hand-carved frame and headboard inside it.
The drawing room was sparse of much furnishings, holding only a small beige chaise lounge and a large easel in the center of the room, with a stool and a cabinet beside it full of old paints and art supplies. However, this room also led out onto the balcony of the Manor, a set of thin, multi-paned french doors leading out to it. The balcony was expansive, almost the entire width of the drawing room, with a few wooden chairs that had seen better days and small glass tables set about on it. If one stood at the railing, they could see out over the entirety of the island.
Like a king looking down on his kingdom.
Hello, My Name Is Human
Private
Compared to the rest of the island, it could have been something of a reprieve. After walking for some time, the high ceilings and large rooms meant the tiniest bit of shelter from the tropical heat. The sun pouring in through the windows had dried out the blood on the floors, mixing with the stale air inside as an acrid, metallic stench.
Though the sounds from outside were muffled, it wasn’t entirely quiet. The building breathed throughout the day, old wood heaving and creaking as the sun came and went. Behind its walls, the cacophony of tropical birdsong and the buzzing of insects was conspicuously absent. Still, the skittering of tiny legs and the occasional low warble from the rafters served as a continuous reminder that life couldn’t be kept on the outside.
Death too, made its presence known. The sound of collars detonating was distinct. It didn’t sound quite like the distant rumble of gunshots or thunder. The sharp thud was unmistakable, twice echoing out from the village throughout the day. It was easy to imagine someone escaping a gunfight. Trading fire from cover to cover, neither involved party hitting anything in the panic.
Not so with the collars. Their sound carried a grim certainty that hung in the air on the island long after the little blasts rang out. It wasn’t just the cameras, or the ever-present voice of their tormentors, or the screaming that carried so well through the humid air.
There was something about this place, something intangible; it just felt wrong.
Sounds of conflict approached the manor house. Shouted names, insults and cursing. An irate demand, replied to with a transparent threat. Gunfire this close by easily rang out through the walls and window panes. Automatic, almost too fast to distinguish individual shots. One burst, and then another. Unsteady fire, aimed only in the hope of hitting something.
A pause in the shooting led to another exchange of words. Shouted, louder to compensate for distance and ringing ears. A window pane rattled as the student with the gun backed closer to the manor house. Feathered wings rustled up in the rafters and propelled a family of birds from a small hole in the roof, while mice skittered through the walls and deeper into the dirt. Anything that lived fled from the percussion, the sounds of hatred and rage. They were all instinctively aware of what was about to happen.
The next burst of gunfire ended suddenly, with no more ammunition to burn through; an act that was in an instant, shown to be in vain.
Though the sounds from outside were muffled, it wasn’t entirely quiet. The building breathed throughout the day, old wood heaving and creaking as the sun came and went. Behind its walls, the cacophony of tropical birdsong and the buzzing of insects was conspicuously absent. Still, the skittering of tiny legs and the occasional low warble from the rafters served as a continuous reminder that life couldn’t be kept on the outside.
Death too, made its presence known. The sound of collars detonating was distinct. It didn’t sound quite like the distant rumble of gunshots or thunder. The sharp thud was unmistakable, twice echoing out from the village throughout the day. It was easy to imagine someone escaping a gunfight. Trading fire from cover to cover, neither involved party hitting anything in the panic.
Not so with the collars. Their sound carried a grim certainty that hung in the air on the island long after the little blasts rang out. It wasn’t just the cameras, or the ever-present voice of their tormentors, or the screaming that carried so well through the humid air.
There was something about this place, something intangible; it just felt wrong.
Sounds of conflict approached the manor house. Shouted names, insults and cursing. An irate demand, replied to with a transparent threat. Gunfire this close by easily rang out through the walls and window panes. Automatic, almost too fast to distinguish individual shots. One burst, and then another. Unsteady fire, aimed only in the hope of hitting something.
A pause in the shooting led to another exchange of words. Shouted, louder to compensate for distance and ringing ears. A window pane rattled as the student with the gun backed closer to the manor house. Feathered wings rustled up in the rafters and propelled a family of birds from a small hole in the roof, while mice skittered through the walls and deeper into the dirt. Anything that lived fled from the percussion, the sounds of hatred and rage. They were all instinctively aware of what was about to happen.
The next burst of gunfire ended suddenly, with no more ammunition to burn through; an act that was in an instant, shown to be in vain.
A large crash resounded through the manor, as the window looking in on the living room shattered with the force of someone being thrown through it.
[Lorenzo Tavares Continued From My Heart Will Be Blacker Than Your Eyes When I’m Through With You]
Lorenzo’s body hurdled through the window, the glass shards slicing his body in various places as he soared through it. His landing was worse, landing atop the glass coffee table and shattering it beneath his body. He lay crumpled on the ground, wheezing harshly as he attempted to regain the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs from the impact. His body curled in on itself almost into a fetal position as he tried to force the air back into his lungs and shake the haze from his eyes. He looked around desperately, trying to focus his vision and see if his adversary was nearby. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees with some effort, still gasping for air, his hands getting cut up by the shards of broken glass beneath him.
With the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he barely even felt the pain.
How had he been so stupid?
The tracking device told him someone was coming, and yet, even with that information he allowed himself to be caught unaware. Then again, he would have never predicted that the person on their way to him was the one person who wanted his life more than any other. Even with the gun, he was still overwhelmed. The gun he no longer had. Lorenzo was no marksman after all, he’d never fire a gun before being trapped on this island. He fired randomly at the other boy, over and over, trying to lay him down with a hail of bullets, but his shots were off and his target too far away to aim properly. He burned through his ammo quickly, and in his rushed attempt to reload, he lost his focus and ended up on the receiving end of a brutal attack.
The gun was knocked from his hands somewhere outside, just before he was roughly grabbed and tossed through the glass. Fuck. He should have been smarter; conserved his ammo until the target was closer. He let his emotions and his fear get the better of him, and now here he was, crumpled on the ground heaving air into his lungs like a sitting duck. He needed to get away, to get out of view for a minute and collect himself. If he stayed here he was as good as dead. He tried to stand, but his chest was still burning and his vision was still blurred and shaky. His balance was off, and he couldn’t drag himself to his feet.
A loud bang snapped his attention to the front door of the manor, as it was kicked in and careened off the wall behind it loudly. Lorenzo’s eyes shook as he stared at the boy walking in, and he felt a sharp chill run up his spine. His vision came into focus finally, as he looked up at the man who had made it his mission to see him dead. Lorenzo’s hand moved against a large shard of sharp glass on the ground, and he gripped it in his hand tightly, hiding it behind his leg as the giant of a teen approached him menacingly.
Not yet.
He couldn’t die here.
Not like this.
[Lorenzo Tavares Continued From My Heart Will Be Blacker Than Your Eyes When I’m Through With You]
Lorenzo’s body hurdled through the window, the glass shards slicing his body in various places as he soared through it. His landing was worse, landing atop the glass coffee table and shattering it beneath his body. He lay crumpled on the ground, wheezing harshly as he attempted to regain the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs from the impact. His body curled in on itself almost into a fetal position as he tried to force the air back into his lungs and shake the haze from his eyes. He looked around desperately, trying to focus his vision and see if his adversary was nearby. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees with some effort, still gasping for air, his hands getting cut up by the shards of broken glass beneath him.
With the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he barely even felt the pain.
How had he been so stupid?
The tracking device told him someone was coming, and yet, even with that information he allowed himself to be caught unaware. Then again, he would have never predicted that the person on their way to him was the one person who wanted his life more than any other. Even with the gun, he was still overwhelmed. The gun he no longer had. Lorenzo was no marksman after all, he’d never fire a gun before being trapped on this island. He fired randomly at the other boy, over and over, trying to lay him down with a hail of bullets, but his shots were off and his target too far away to aim properly. He burned through his ammo quickly, and in his rushed attempt to reload, he lost his focus and ended up on the receiving end of a brutal attack.
The gun was knocked from his hands somewhere outside, just before he was roughly grabbed and tossed through the glass. Fuck. He should have been smarter; conserved his ammo until the target was closer. He let his emotions and his fear get the better of him, and now here he was, crumpled on the ground heaving air into his lungs like a sitting duck. He needed to get away, to get out of view for a minute and collect himself. If he stayed here he was as good as dead. He tried to stand, but his chest was still burning and his vision was still blurred and shaky. His balance was off, and he couldn’t drag himself to his feet.
A loud bang snapped his attention to the front door of the manor, as it was kicked in and careened off the wall behind it loudly. Lorenzo’s eyes shook as he stared at the boy walking in, and he felt a sharp chill run up his spine. His vision came into focus finally, as he looked up at the man who had made it his mission to see him dead. Lorenzo’s hand moved against a large shard of sharp glass on the ground, and he gripped it in his hand tightly, hiding it behind his leg as the giant of a teen approached him menacingly.
Not yet.
He couldn’t die here.
Not like this.
Thankfully he hadn’t strayed too far from the manor house. It was easy enough to bait him, cursing his name from behind a stone planter. Ty steeled himself as he heard bullets pass altogether too close to his ears, slamming into rocks and cutting through hedges and vines. In between bursts, he moved. Taunted Lorenzo again. Knowing eventually the gunfire had to stop. Lorenzo ran hot; Ty ran cold.
((Tyrell Lahti continued from The Temple))
There was no escaping now, no one else who could intervene. No one to stop Ty from shoving Lorenzo off his feet and through the Manor’s front window. It felt right, an outlet for everything he’d been feeling since they spoke on the balcony, before this nightmare had even begun. The sound of the glass shattering, the gasp as air left Lorenzo's lungs. It was satisfying.
At the same time, it was calculated; Lorenzo was trapped. No one was there to stop them. No one would come to save him, even if they saw what was going on. There was nowhere to run. Ty stood in the entryway, looking down at Lorenzo struggling in the pile of broken glass. He hesitated for a moment; noting the uncomfortable feeling of looking down at someone he’d thought of as trash that needed to be disposed of, and seeing what remained of a friend.
All I see is what’s left.
It wasn't so easy to condemn him from where Ty stood, to say this was for Artem, Sapphire, Emil, or Dane. Maybe he was evil, or just didn't think before he acted. Maybe he was a sick bastard who liked to hurt people, or someone who just didn’t know when to stop. Whatever could be said for Lorenzo, Ty had a hard time not seeing in himself. That was it, though. This wasn't for anyone else. It was for the two of them. A necessary correction to mistakes they'd both made. An outlet for profound hatred and rage that only came out of seeing someone you gave a shit about falling further than you ever thought they could.
They needed this.
Ty took several long strides across towards the dining room, walking the last step into a kick that he aimed towards Lorenzo’s ribs.
((Tyrell Lahti continued from The Temple))
There was no escaping now, no one else who could intervene. No one to stop Ty from shoving Lorenzo off his feet and through the Manor’s front window. It felt right, an outlet for everything he’d been feeling since they spoke on the balcony, before this nightmare had even begun. The sound of the glass shattering, the gasp as air left Lorenzo's lungs. It was satisfying.
At the same time, it was calculated; Lorenzo was trapped. No one was there to stop them. No one would come to save him, even if they saw what was going on. There was nowhere to run. Ty stood in the entryway, looking down at Lorenzo struggling in the pile of broken glass. He hesitated for a moment; noting the uncomfortable feeling of looking down at someone he’d thought of as trash that needed to be disposed of, and seeing what remained of a friend.
All I see is what’s left.
It wasn't so easy to condemn him from where Ty stood, to say this was for Artem, Sapphire, Emil, or Dane. Maybe he was evil, or just didn't think before he acted. Maybe he was a sick bastard who liked to hurt people, or someone who just didn’t know when to stop. Whatever could be said for Lorenzo, Ty had a hard time not seeing in himself. That was it, though. This wasn't for anyone else. It was for the two of them. A necessary correction to mistakes they'd both made. An outlet for profound hatred and rage that only came out of seeing someone you gave a shit about falling further than you ever thought they could.
They needed this.
Ty took several long strides across towards the dining room, walking the last step into a kick that he aimed towards Lorenzo’s ribs.
The feeling of the boot digging into his rib-cage forced what little breath he’d been able to suck back into his lungs out again. Lorenzo let out a weak cry as he toppled back to the ground, the shards of glass making a terrible bed for him to land on. He still had the glass in his hand, hidden from Ty’s view. He felt the sharp edges cutting into his hand, but that didn’t matter. As long as he kept it in his hand, he had a small strategy to be able to get away. His ribs were aching, but he did his best to push through the pain. He kept his eyes on Ty’s face, glaring defiantly at the other boy.
Ty wouldn’t break him.
He wouldn't give him that kind of satisfaction. Lorenzo was a fighter. He’d been fighting ever since he woke up on this godforsaken island, and every single time he managed to get away with his life. He wasn’t going to stop now. Not after everything he’d done to make it this far. Tyrell Lahti wasn’t going to be the one to end it all. He was going home. To his family. He grit his teeth and pushed himself up from the ground. Ty went for another kick, and Lorenzo let him. As soon as he felt it connect, he grabbed the leg with his free hand, and swiftly brought the hand holding the glass around, slicing into the other boy’s thigh before letting him go and scrambling away from him and to his feet.
Lorenzo’s breaths were ragged and harsh, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he looked at the small bit of damage he’d done to Tyrell. It felt good. It felt fucking fantastic to see that son of a bitch bleed. Because of him, Lorenzo didn’t even know if he could go back anymore. He told the world the one thing he never wanted anyone to know. Lorenzo unclasped the maul from his waist and held it up, ready to use. His grip on the shaft tightened, and his eyes glared a hold into the boy in front of him.
Because of him…
His ‘friend’...
Lorenzo wanted to see his blood paint the walls of this building as penance.
Lorenzo lunged forward with a primal scream, swinging the maul at the other boy with full intent to lodge it into his skull.
Ty wouldn’t break him.
He wouldn't give him that kind of satisfaction. Lorenzo was a fighter. He’d been fighting ever since he woke up on this godforsaken island, and every single time he managed to get away with his life. He wasn’t going to stop now. Not after everything he’d done to make it this far. Tyrell Lahti wasn’t going to be the one to end it all. He was going home. To his family. He grit his teeth and pushed himself up from the ground. Ty went for another kick, and Lorenzo let him. As soon as he felt it connect, he grabbed the leg with his free hand, and swiftly brought the hand holding the glass around, slicing into the other boy’s thigh before letting him go and scrambling away from him and to his feet.
Lorenzo’s breaths were ragged and harsh, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he looked at the small bit of damage he’d done to Tyrell. It felt good. It felt fucking fantastic to see that son of a bitch bleed. Because of him, Lorenzo didn’t even know if he could go back anymore. He told the world the one thing he never wanted anyone to know. Lorenzo unclasped the maul from his waist and held it up, ready to use. His grip on the shaft tightened, and his eyes glared a hold into the boy in front of him.
Because of him…
His ‘friend’...
Lorenzo wanted to see his blood paint the walls of this building as penance.
Lorenzo lunged forward with a primal scream, swinging the maul at the other boy with full intent to lodge it into his skull.
Ty felt the kick connect with some satisfaction, surprised to see Lorenzo glaring up at him. Defiant, he guessed. It didn’t really matter, only one of them was on the ground right now. At some point Ty knew he’d have to join him down there to finish this.
The second kick landed, Ty only noticing the rapid motion from Lorenzo’s arm after the fact. Too late. The glass shard went at least far enough into his leg to cause it to seize up in pain, and Ty found himself stumbling backwards and away from Lorenzo.
A now-familiar feeling of warmth running down the side of his leg accompanied the fresh pain. Somehow forcing more adrenaline into his veins than had been there before. He stepped back into the entryway, one hand cradling the shard embedded in his thigh.
Ty gritted his teeth, halfway to a smile. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. In a few seconds, there was going to be a maul headed towards his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorenzo removing it from his belt. This time Ty didn’t have a crowbar, or anything else he could deflect it with. Not on hand. The maul was too poorly balanced to really rely on, it made Ren commit to any swing or strike. Something to dance around, not to meet with brute force.
Shard or not, Ty knew he had better footwork. As Lorenzo wildly swung with the maul, Ty sidestepped around the swing. Another swing gave him an opening to dip around Lorenzo, back into the dining room. Back to where there were more options.
Ty interrupted the next swing of the maul with one of the wooden dining chairs, catching its head in a tangled mess of splinters and hewn wicker. The twisted mess fell aside through momentum, leaving Lorenzo’s arms down and away from his face. Ty threw a step jab towards Lorenzo’s nose, as much as he could muster so quickly.
It wasn’t enough to down Lorenzo, but it bought some breathing room. Reaching down, he managed to pull the glass shard from his leg and let it fall to the ground. The pain was just background noise right now, but the days of malnutrition and injury had wreaked havoc on his stamina. His breathing already felt labored. Ty fumbled around the room, searching for something he might be able to improvise to end this quickly.
The second kick landed, Ty only noticing the rapid motion from Lorenzo’s arm after the fact. Too late. The glass shard went at least far enough into his leg to cause it to seize up in pain, and Ty found himself stumbling backwards and away from Lorenzo.
A now-familiar feeling of warmth running down the side of his leg accompanied the fresh pain. Somehow forcing more adrenaline into his veins than had been there before. He stepped back into the entryway, one hand cradling the shard embedded in his thigh.
Ty gritted his teeth, halfway to a smile. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. In a few seconds, there was going to be a maul headed towards his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorenzo removing it from his belt. This time Ty didn’t have a crowbar, or anything else he could deflect it with. Not on hand. The maul was too poorly balanced to really rely on, it made Ren commit to any swing or strike. Something to dance around, not to meet with brute force.
Shard or not, Ty knew he had better footwork. As Lorenzo wildly swung with the maul, Ty sidestepped around the swing. Another swing gave him an opening to dip around Lorenzo, back into the dining room. Back to where there were more options.
Ty interrupted the next swing of the maul with one of the wooden dining chairs, catching its head in a tangled mess of splinters and hewn wicker. The twisted mess fell aside through momentum, leaving Lorenzo’s arms down and away from his face. Ty threw a step jab towards Lorenzo’s nose, as much as he could muster so quickly.
It wasn’t enough to down Lorenzo, but it bought some breathing room. Reaching down, he managed to pull the glass shard from his leg and let it fall to the ground. The pain was just background noise right now, but the days of malnutrition and injury had wreaked havoc on his stamina. His breathing already felt labored. Ty fumbled around the room, searching for something he might be able to improvise to end this quickly.
Swing.
Miss.
Swing.
Miss.
Lorenzo was getting mildly frustrated that Ty was dodging all his blows so easily. Lorenzo didn’t want to admit it, but even with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, it couldn’t erase all the tiredness from his body. It had been a long and rough six days. Lorenzo’s body had honestly passed it’s limit long ago. He was getting by on sheer willpower and refusal to give in. This wasn’t like the first day, when they fought on the beach. Even as he swung the maul wildly at the other boy, his swings were more sluggish and took more recovery time. Every part of his body was screaming at him, the pain in his ribs especially begging him to stop moving. But he couldn’t.
If he stopped now that meant he’d die.
Another swing of the maul at Tyrell who had made his way into the dining room of the manor. The bastard grabbed a chair to block the swing, the maul splitting the chair to splinters, but getting tangled into the wicker backing, giving Ty the opportunity to wrench the weapon from his grip and toss it to the side. Lorenzo did his best to hold on, but Ty had let go of the chair, and he still needed to defend himself, maul be damned for now. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to react in time and got a quick fist to the face for his lack of attention.
“Fuck!” he screamed as the fist connected with his nose. As if his nose wasn’t fucked up enough already from his fight with Axel.
The force of the blow snapped his head back, and caused him to stumble backwards a bit. He felt the warm blood spilling from his nostrils, but he didn’t care about that right now. He wiped at the blood with the back of his hand and glared at Ty between locks of his dirty and matted hair. He’d kill him. He had to. Had to finally silence the bastard once and for all. Make it so he could never tell anyone else. Ty pulled the glass shard from his leg and Lorenzo spit a bloody loogie to the side.
The coppery taste in the back of his throat only spurred him on as he all of a sudden charged the other boy, his forearm connecting with the boy’s gut and his free hand grabbing him by the face as he tacked him backwards. There was a resounding crash of glass shattering all around them as Lorenzo drove Tyrell backwards and into the glass curio. Plates and other thing kept inside crashed over them, but Lorenzo hardly felt a thing, shoving the other boy’s head back as hard as he could and grinding him into the broken glass.
Lorenzo couldn’t help the twisted grin that donned his face or the small fit of quiet giggles that rumbled from his throat as the two fought back and forth.
Miss.
Swing.
Miss.
Lorenzo was getting mildly frustrated that Ty was dodging all his blows so easily. Lorenzo didn’t want to admit it, but even with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, it couldn’t erase all the tiredness from his body. It had been a long and rough six days. Lorenzo’s body had honestly passed it’s limit long ago. He was getting by on sheer willpower and refusal to give in. This wasn’t like the first day, when they fought on the beach. Even as he swung the maul wildly at the other boy, his swings were more sluggish and took more recovery time. Every part of his body was screaming at him, the pain in his ribs especially begging him to stop moving. But he couldn’t.
If he stopped now that meant he’d die.
Another swing of the maul at Tyrell who had made his way into the dining room of the manor. The bastard grabbed a chair to block the swing, the maul splitting the chair to splinters, but getting tangled into the wicker backing, giving Ty the opportunity to wrench the weapon from his grip and toss it to the side. Lorenzo did his best to hold on, but Ty had let go of the chair, and he still needed to defend himself, maul be damned for now. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to react in time and got a quick fist to the face for his lack of attention.
“Fuck!” he screamed as the fist connected with his nose. As if his nose wasn’t fucked up enough already from his fight with Axel.
The force of the blow snapped his head back, and caused him to stumble backwards a bit. He felt the warm blood spilling from his nostrils, but he didn’t care about that right now. He wiped at the blood with the back of his hand and glared at Ty between locks of his dirty and matted hair. He’d kill him. He had to. Had to finally silence the bastard once and for all. Make it so he could never tell anyone else. Ty pulled the glass shard from his leg and Lorenzo spit a bloody loogie to the side.
The coppery taste in the back of his throat only spurred him on as he all of a sudden charged the other boy, his forearm connecting with the boy’s gut and his free hand grabbing him by the face as he tacked him backwards. There was a resounding crash of glass shattering all around them as Lorenzo drove Tyrell backwards and into the glass curio. Plates and other thing kept inside crashed over them, but Lorenzo hardly felt a thing, shoving the other boy’s head back as hard as he could and grinding him into the broken glass.
Lorenzo couldn’t help the twisted grin that donned his face or the small fit of quiet giggles that rumbled from his throat as the two fought back and forth.
It almost felt like jumping into cold water. Almost. Shallow cuts and the sound of glass cracking and shattering all around him, a sensation that was impossible to ignore. Simultaneously alarming and exhilarating, like the true cost of what they were doing was now coming further into focus. Ty could see the ledge, the noose was taut, the blood drawn on the razor. Someone really was going to die here.
Laughing. Something he’d used to piss off the people who hurt him, before he could hit back. Crossing wires to make things that should’ve been horrific just a little bit less so. At least, that was the theory. They were close enough he could hear Lorenzo chuckling as he tried to make the most of his desperate charge.
It was real. On some level, Lorenzo had convinced himself to enjoy this. In another life, Ty enjoyed it too. Standing over someone who was beaten, knowing he’d survived in the most essential, truest way possible. A rehearsal for something worse, for whatever life was going to throw at him.
This wasn’t that sort of situation. Ty wasn’t beaten, and anything worth saving was already gone. Their lives had ended long ago. Lorenzo was reveling in the pain he was causing, the victory he thought was just out of his grasp.
If that was the game they were playing, Ty knew he could play it better. He inhaled sharply, grabbing Lorenzo’s arms and pulling them close. Their eyes met, faces barely recognizable silhouettes after all of the cuts and bruises and blood. A moment barely long enough to spit out a question he already knew the answer to.
“Having fun?!”
Ty jumped forward, his forehead connecting with the mess that was Lorenzo’s face. The impact introduced new spots to his vision, but he could tell it was worse on the other side. Almost leaping from what was left of the curio, he grabbed low on Lorenzo’s body and lifted him into the air.
A grey tunnel was beginning to form at the edges of his vision. Ty let out an beastial shout as he slammed Lorenzo down onto the wooden dining table.
The effort left him reeling, stumbling back into the kitchen and falling to his knees as pain ran laps through his nervous system. Through shaky breaths, he looked frantically around the room. Fitting. He’d always felt comfortable in kitchens. In another life, he’d have found a career in them.
Now, all Ty cared to find was something he could use to finish this. Based on the sounds coming from behind him, he could tell Lorenzo was doing the same.
Laughing. Something he’d used to piss off the people who hurt him, before he could hit back. Crossing wires to make things that should’ve been horrific just a little bit less so. At least, that was the theory. They were close enough he could hear Lorenzo chuckling as he tried to make the most of his desperate charge.
It was real. On some level, Lorenzo had convinced himself to enjoy this. In another life, Ty enjoyed it too. Standing over someone who was beaten, knowing he’d survived in the most essential, truest way possible. A rehearsal for something worse, for whatever life was going to throw at him.
This wasn’t that sort of situation. Ty wasn’t beaten, and anything worth saving was already gone. Their lives had ended long ago. Lorenzo was reveling in the pain he was causing, the victory he thought was just out of his grasp.
If that was the game they were playing, Ty knew he could play it better. He inhaled sharply, grabbing Lorenzo’s arms and pulling them close. Their eyes met, faces barely recognizable silhouettes after all of the cuts and bruises and blood. A moment barely long enough to spit out a question he already knew the answer to.
“Having fun?!”
Ty jumped forward, his forehead connecting with the mess that was Lorenzo’s face. The impact introduced new spots to his vision, but he could tell it was worse on the other side. Almost leaping from what was left of the curio, he grabbed low on Lorenzo’s body and lifted him into the air.
A grey tunnel was beginning to form at the edges of his vision. Ty let out an beastial shout as he slammed Lorenzo down onto the wooden dining table.
The effort left him reeling, stumbling back into the kitchen and falling to his knees as pain ran laps through his nervous system. Through shaky breaths, he looked frantically around the room. Fitting. He’d always felt comfortable in kitchens. In another life, he’d have found a career in them.
Now, all Ty cared to find was something he could use to finish this. Based on the sounds coming from behind him, he could tell Lorenzo was doing the same.
Lorenzo didn’t get to enjoy the satisfaction of grinding Tyrell into the shattered glass of the curio for long. In his haste and desperation, he hadn’t considered the fact that both of Tyrell’s arms were still free. So it came as quite a shock to be grabbed and pulled in so abruptly. Ty’s words sent a small chill down Lorenzo’s spine. They were laced with venom and hate. It suddenly took him back to when they were on the balcony in DC. Lorenzo’s eyes widened and he felt himself freeze up for a moment. Long enough for Tyrell to get another good hit in.
Ty’s forehead crashed into his mouth hard, splitting his lip even worse than before and sending a rush of copper-flavored blood into his mouth. The inside of his lip must have sliced itself open on his teeth when Ty hit him, because the amount of blood in his mouth all of a sudden was extraordinary, as was the amount of pain radiating from his oral area. Ty let go of his arms, and Lorenzo stumbled backwards again, his hands flying up to his injured mouth to try and cradle the injury instinctively.
Not a good move, it turns out.
A shout from Ty snapped his eyes open and to attention, but by then it was too late. His legs were swept out from under him and all of a sudden Lorenzo was up in the air on Ty’s shoulder. He didn’t have a chance to even try to defend or brace himself before Ty slammed him down onto the wooden dining room table. The force with which he hit the table caused the old legs of the table to buckle and snap out from under itself, crashing the table to the ground with Lorenzo’s battered and breathless body atop it.
Lorenzo gasped and gurgled for air as he lay there, the blood filling his mouth making it even harder to take in air than before. He went into a brief coughing fit, spraying blood and spit and pieces of chipped teeth all over the now broken table. His eyes darted around the room frantically, trying to spot the next attack before it came. But there was nothing. Tyrell wasn’t above him. Lorenzo forced himself through the pain in his back and onto all fours on the ground. He made his way over to the serving table nearby and used it as a crutch to pull himself to his feet. His breathing was labored and short, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t gone out yet.
He wasn’t going to give up here.
He wasn’t going to let himself die here.
Lorenzo grabbed the glass vase from the serving table, and followed the sounds coming from the kitchen in his pursuit of Tyrell. He couldn’t just run away this time. He had to finish it. Otherwise he’d just keep chasing him forever. Ty would be back again to try and kill him if he didn’t put the bastard in the ground here and now. Lorenzo stumbled into the kitchen and saw Ty, hunched over the kitchen counter, obviously looking for something to kill him with.
They always did think alike, didn’t they?
Lorenzo wasn’t about to let that happen though.
As fast as he could, he came up behind the bigger boy. Lorenzo took the vase in his hands and smashed the heavy object over the back of his former friend’s head. Ty bucked and fell to his knees, and Lorenzo pounced. Lorenzo jumped on the boy’s back and tightly wrapped his arm around the boy’s neck, pulling as hard as he could to try and choke the life out of him.
“Just fucking die!” He seethed through grit teeth and blurred and spotted vision.
Ty’s forehead crashed into his mouth hard, splitting his lip even worse than before and sending a rush of copper-flavored blood into his mouth. The inside of his lip must have sliced itself open on his teeth when Ty hit him, because the amount of blood in his mouth all of a sudden was extraordinary, as was the amount of pain radiating from his oral area. Ty let go of his arms, and Lorenzo stumbled backwards again, his hands flying up to his injured mouth to try and cradle the injury instinctively.
Not a good move, it turns out.
A shout from Ty snapped his eyes open and to attention, but by then it was too late. His legs were swept out from under him and all of a sudden Lorenzo was up in the air on Ty’s shoulder. He didn’t have a chance to even try to defend or brace himself before Ty slammed him down onto the wooden dining room table. The force with which he hit the table caused the old legs of the table to buckle and snap out from under itself, crashing the table to the ground with Lorenzo’s battered and breathless body atop it.
Lorenzo gasped and gurgled for air as he lay there, the blood filling his mouth making it even harder to take in air than before. He went into a brief coughing fit, spraying blood and spit and pieces of chipped teeth all over the now broken table. His eyes darted around the room frantically, trying to spot the next attack before it came. But there was nothing. Tyrell wasn’t above him. Lorenzo forced himself through the pain in his back and onto all fours on the ground. He made his way over to the serving table nearby and used it as a crutch to pull himself to his feet. His breathing was labored and short, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t gone out yet.
He wasn’t going to give up here.
He wasn’t going to let himself die here.
Lorenzo grabbed the glass vase from the serving table, and followed the sounds coming from the kitchen in his pursuit of Tyrell. He couldn’t just run away this time. He had to finish it. Otherwise he’d just keep chasing him forever. Ty would be back again to try and kill him if he didn’t put the bastard in the ground here and now. Lorenzo stumbled into the kitchen and saw Ty, hunched over the kitchen counter, obviously looking for something to kill him with.
They always did think alike, didn’t they?
Lorenzo wasn’t about to let that happen though.
As fast as he could, he came up behind the bigger boy. Lorenzo took the vase in his hands and smashed the heavy object over the back of his former friend’s head. Ty bucked and fell to his knees, and Lorenzo pounced. Lorenzo jumped on the boy’s back and tightly wrapped his arm around the boy’s neck, pulling as hard as he could to try and choke the life out of him.
“Just fucking die!” He seethed through grit teeth and blurred and spotted vision.
There had to be a knife block. Maybe something solid, like a cast iron pan. Even the most ill-equipped bumblefuck nowhere kitchen had a pan. Hell, any appliance would do. Just something harder and heavier than his fists. Something faster than choking the life out of Lorenzo. There was only so much Ty’s body had left to give, and he’d have preferred to be able to walk out of here and make it back to the Temple.
As his hands danced across the countertop, opening drawers and tossing aside various kitchen implements, he couldn’t help but note the bloody trails they left behind. Impossible to tell whose blood it was, at this point. The picture was familiar; he’d painted it before. With his hands, and his teeth. This time, he could at least admit to himself that he meant it.
Just as the grey was beginning to leave the edges of his vision, and just as he caught a glimpse of metal in a half-open drawer, a sudden impact sent him reeling. Lorenzo knew how to take a beating, and had more gas in the tank than Ty had expected.
Maybe more than he had. There might not have been any sense in trying to save anything of himself. Not if he didn’t want to leave the outcome to chance. Not while Lorenzo was halfway there, arm wrapped around his neck. There weren’t really many ways to escape a rear naked choke, not once it was locked in.
Thankfully, Ty’s hands caught something sufficiently solid as they reached out onto the kitchen counter. A pepper grinder, probably wood and stainless steel. Hard to tell, with so little oxygen and hands slick with sweat and blood. On instinct, he swung it over his shoulder like a baton, desperately trying to make contact.
The first swipe just grazed him. The second landed on a corner. The third struck hard enough to loosen Lorenzo’s grip. Pushing off the counter with his right leg, Ty propelled the two of them back onto the ground. Still not a good spot to be, giving his back like this. Too easy for Lorenzo to try it again.
Ty rolled away from Lorenzo, gritting his teeth as he once again felt the pain of broken glass digging into his knees. Coughing, tasting only metal and sickness as bloody saliva dripped from his mouth. He tried to brace himself on a drawer to stand back up, only succeeding at pulling it from its socket and sending a collection of tea towels to the ground. Instinctively, he grabbed one and wiped away his eyes with it. The act stung, and pulling it away he found the stains slightly demoralizing.
Lorenzo was stirring on the other side of the room. Not yet on his feet. Not yet continuing his assault. Either he was as worn down as Ty was, or he was finally starting to realize he couldn’t win without keeping a cool head. Whatever it was, he was still getting back up.
Not fast enough. Ty couldn’t help but let out a pained cry as he forced himself back up, ribs and back screaming at him the whole time.
I know I’m hurt. I’m supposed to be in pain. I asked for this. Move.
He reached the last drawer, and flung it open. Nothing but potato peelers and empty sheathes where knives might've been. Of course. Those motherfuckers tossed them on an island to kill one another and yet they opted to squirrel away anything remotely useful to that end.
Ty slammed the drawer shut in a rage, looking instead to a ceramic jar that held a number of wooden spoons and spatulas. Hand still wrapped in the tea towel, he struck the jar and shattered it into a few decently-sized porcelain shards. One of them was about the right size; hastily wrapping the cloth around one end of the shard, he tested the grip in his hand. It was no knife, but it was still sharp. It would still do the job.
Holding it in a rear grip, Ty got back into form and turned to face his opponent. Knowing he could parry whatever came next, and supplement the motions he knew so well with cold steel. It all rested on what Lorenzo chose to do.
As his hands danced across the countertop, opening drawers and tossing aside various kitchen implements, he couldn’t help but note the bloody trails they left behind. Impossible to tell whose blood it was, at this point. The picture was familiar; he’d painted it before. With his hands, and his teeth. This time, he could at least admit to himself that he meant it.
Just as the grey was beginning to leave the edges of his vision, and just as he caught a glimpse of metal in a half-open drawer, a sudden impact sent him reeling. Lorenzo knew how to take a beating, and had more gas in the tank than Ty had expected.
Maybe more than he had. There might not have been any sense in trying to save anything of himself. Not if he didn’t want to leave the outcome to chance. Not while Lorenzo was halfway there, arm wrapped around his neck. There weren’t really many ways to escape a rear naked choke, not once it was locked in.
Thankfully, Ty’s hands caught something sufficiently solid as they reached out onto the kitchen counter. A pepper grinder, probably wood and stainless steel. Hard to tell, with so little oxygen and hands slick with sweat and blood. On instinct, he swung it over his shoulder like a baton, desperately trying to make contact.
The first swipe just grazed him. The second landed on a corner. The third struck hard enough to loosen Lorenzo’s grip. Pushing off the counter with his right leg, Ty propelled the two of them back onto the ground. Still not a good spot to be, giving his back like this. Too easy for Lorenzo to try it again.
Ty rolled away from Lorenzo, gritting his teeth as he once again felt the pain of broken glass digging into his knees. Coughing, tasting only metal and sickness as bloody saliva dripped from his mouth. He tried to brace himself on a drawer to stand back up, only succeeding at pulling it from its socket and sending a collection of tea towels to the ground. Instinctively, he grabbed one and wiped away his eyes with it. The act stung, and pulling it away he found the stains slightly demoralizing.
Lorenzo was stirring on the other side of the room. Not yet on his feet. Not yet continuing his assault. Either he was as worn down as Ty was, or he was finally starting to realize he couldn’t win without keeping a cool head. Whatever it was, he was still getting back up.
Not fast enough. Ty couldn’t help but let out a pained cry as he forced himself back up, ribs and back screaming at him the whole time.
I know I’m hurt. I’m supposed to be in pain. I asked for this. Move.
He reached the last drawer, and flung it open. Nothing but potato peelers and empty sheathes where knives might've been. Of course. Those motherfuckers tossed them on an island to kill one another and yet they opted to squirrel away anything remotely useful to that end.
Ty slammed the drawer shut in a rage, looking instead to a ceramic jar that held a number of wooden spoons and spatulas. Hand still wrapped in the tea towel, he struck the jar and shattered it into a few decently-sized porcelain shards. One of them was about the right size; hastily wrapping the cloth around one end of the shard, he tested the grip in his hand. It was no knife, but it was still sharp. It would still do the job.
Holding it in a rear grip, Ty got back into form and turned to face his opponent. Knowing he could parry whatever came next, and supplement the motions he knew so well with cold steel. It all rested on what Lorenzo chose to do.
Just keep squeezing. Tighter and tighter. Don’t let up. Don't let the exhaustion set it. Don't let the pain stop you. Just a little more and he’s finished. It’ll all be over. Come on.
Lorenzo could feel every single muscle in his body straining as he kept up his choke-hold on the other boy. His breathing was labored and harsh, and he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest it was beating so hard. He couldn’t even think straight, he was running on pure survival instinct. All he was sure of was that if he wanted to live past today he had to kill Tyrell here and now. As he choked the boy out, he flailed wildly trying to break from the hold and find something to stop Lorenzo with. But no, that wasn’t how this ended. Not if Lorenzo had anything to say about it. Lorenzo was going to win. He was going to go home. He was going to kill Tyrell Lahti, his former friend right here in cold-
Whack
Something heavy struck him in the side of the head and he faltered for a moment, loosening his grip on Ty’s neck ever so slightly. Another strike that grazed his ear. That one didn't hurt. Then the coup de grace, hitting him square in the head, just above his eye, and making him see stars. His grip relaxed even more, and before he could recover, he felt himself being flung backwards. Lorenzo hit the ground again, the back of his head bouncing off the tiled floor with a loud crack. His vision left him for a minute and all he could see was black emptiness.
His body writhed on the ground from the pain in his head, and he was pretty sure he could feel his brain bouncing of the sides of his skull. Little cries of pain escaped his lips without his permission as he struggled to pull himself together. His vision slowly returned to him, the darkness giving way to a blurry light. His head was pounding, and he lifted his hand up to try and dull the pain. His eyes shot open in worry though when all he felt was a warm wetness. He pulled his hand back so he could confirm his suspicions. He was gushing blood from above his eye. He rolled to his side and pushed himself up to his hands and knees with some difficulty. The spot where his head had just been was spotted with blood too. Fuck. Two head injuries was probably pretty bad, right?
His vision focused in, finally, and he noticed Ty standing up already from the corner of his eye. Fuckfuckfuck. Lorenzo crawled over the broken shards of glass to the nearest wall and forced himself to his feet. His hands were covered in blood, but by now he wasn’t sure if that was because of the cuts from all the glass or from touching his other wounds. Guess it didn’t really matter. He slumped against the wall, trying to find his balance, leaving a streak of red over the once bright paint. Tyrell spun to look at him, and Lorenzo glared right back. There was something in his hand.
A sharp something.
Lorenzo’s eyes darted back and forth from Ty’s face to his hand. He needed something. Something to distract him. He needed to get some space between them, give himself a chance to breathe and think. Nearby on the floor was a lone metal frying pan. That would do. Lorenzo scooped the pan up and flung it at the other boy, before spinning on his heel and running as fast as his legs would take him out of the room. Lorenzo made it to the dining room and spotted his discarded maul still tangled in the wicker of the chair. He needed it. Lorenzo stomped on the chair and with both hands ripped the maul out, sending splinters and pieces of wicker flying every which way.
He wasn’t in the clear yet, however, so he kept moving, going through the living room and into the entryway. Stairs. Another floor. Or run outside. Try and get away. No. He had to finish this here. Otherwise what was the point. This would only happen again. One of them had to die here for this cat and mouse game to finally end. With a few pained grunts and cries, Lorenzo dragged his broken body up the single staircase as fast as he could. He was sure he was leaving a train of blood behind him but he didn’t care. He just needed to hide and wait for him. As soon as he reached the top floor Lorenzo ducked into the master bedroom and hid behind the wall next to the doorway.
Harsh breaths spilled from his lips and his legs and arms were shaking furiously. He wasn’t sure if it was from strain, fear, adrenaline, or a combination of all three.
Lorenzo could feel every single muscle in his body straining as he kept up his choke-hold on the other boy. His breathing was labored and harsh, and he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest it was beating so hard. He couldn’t even think straight, he was running on pure survival instinct. All he was sure of was that if he wanted to live past today he had to kill Tyrell here and now. As he choked the boy out, he flailed wildly trying to break from the hold and find something to stop Lorenzo with. But no, that wasn’t how this ended. Not if Lorenzo had anything to say about it. Lorenzo was going to win. He was going to go home. He was going to kill Tyrell Lahti, his former friend right here in cold-
Whack
Something heavy struck him in the side of the head and he faltered for a moment, loosening his grip on Ty’s neck ever so slightly. Another strike that grazed his ear. That one didn't hurt. Then the coup de grace, hitting him square in the head, just above his eye, and making him see stars. His grip relaxed even more, and before he could recover, he felt himself being flung backwards. Lorenzo hit the ground again, the back of his head bouncing off the tiled floor with a loud crack. His vision left him for a minute and all he could see was black emptiness.
His body writhed on the ground from the pain in his head, and he was pretty sure he could feel his brain bouncing of the sides of his skull. Little cries of pain escaped his lips without his permission as he struggled to pull himself together. His vision slowly returned to him, the darkness giving way to a blurry light. His head was pounding, and he lifted his hand up to try and dull the pain. His eyes shot open in worry though when all he felt was a warm wetness. He pulled his hand back so he could confirm his suspicions. He was gushing blood from above his eye. He rolled to his side and pushed himself up to his hands and knees with some difficulty. The spot where his head had just been was spotted with blood too. Fuck. Two head injuries was probably pretty bad, right?
His vision focused in, finally, and he noticed Ty standing up already from the corner of his eye. Fuckfuckfuck. Lorenzo crawled over the broken shards of glass to the nearest wall and forced himself to his feet. His hands were covered in blood, but by now he wasn’t sure if that was because of the cuts from all the glass or from touching his other wounds. Guess it didn’t really matter. He slumped against the wall, trying to find his balance, leaving a streak of red over the once bright paint. Tyrell spun to look at him, and Lorenzo glared right back. There was something in his hand.
A sharp something.
Lorenzo’s eyes darted back and forth from Ty’s face to his hand. He needed something. Something to distract him. He needed to get some space between them, give himself a chance to breathe and think. Nearby on the floor was a lone metal frying pan. That would do. Lorenzo scooped the pan up and flung it at the other boy, before spinning on his heel and running as fast as his legs would take him out of the room. Lorenzo made it to the dining room and spotted his discarded maul still tangled in the wicker of the chair. He needed it. Lorenzo stomped on the chair and with both hands ripped the maul out, sending splinters and pieces of wicker flying every which way.
He wasn’t in the clear yet, however, so he kept moving, going through the living room and into the entryway. Stairs. Another floor. Or run outside. Try and get away. No. He had to finish this here. Otherwise what was the point. This would only happen again. One of them had to die here for this cat and mouse game to finally end. With a few pained grunts and cries, Lorenzo dragged his broken body up the single staircase as fast as he could. He was sure he was leaving a train of blood behind him but he didn’t care. He just needed to hide and wait for him. As soon as he reached the top floor Lorenzo ducked into the master bedroom and hid behind the wall next to the doorway.
Harsh breaths spilled from his lips and his legs and arms were shaking furiously. He wasn’t sure if it was from strain, fear, adrenaline, or a combination of all three.
Tyrell was expecting a mad charge, maybe a run for the maul. Maybe he’d tear off outside to try and get his gun back. On some level he knew there was at least a small chance lunging for Lorenzo would mean staggering and falling back to the kitchen floor. An opening wide enough for Lorenzo to win. Standing on two feet felt like an effort all unto itself.
It didn’t occur to him that it would be much of an impediment, when Lorenzo opted to throw the pan. Instinctively, Ty batted it away.
Instinct failed him, as the pan connected with the old cut on his forearm.
“Son of a-”
The space under the bandages felt wet again. The pain returned, worse than it had been before. Worse than it was when Katrina first cut him with that sword. Enough to make him nauseated, his legs nearly buckling under him.
It wasn’t over yet. Ty still kept the shiv tight in a reverse grip, ready to plunge it into Lorenzo’s gut the moment he charged him. The pain could still work for him. Ty could still exploit his own weakness. It wasn’t over.
The moment never came. Looking up, Ty saw Lorenzo had gone. The sound of footsteps heading up stairs echoed throughout the old house. Looking out towards the front, he caught a glimpse of the destruction the two of them had caused. Blood, broken glass and shattered furniture littered the dining area.
Ty took a step forward, nearly losing his footing. He suppressed a dry heave, coughing hoarsely.
That motherfucker was getting away. Running. Not facing down what he’d earned. Not accepting it.
Hatred drew into Ty’s chest, a wave of adrenaline following soon after. He shouted after Lorenzo, following the trail of blood and carnage back into the entryway.
“Ren, you running away? You fucking coward! You can’t run from this!”
The front door was still half-shut, and the trail of blood led up the stairs; Ty had heard correctly. He continued cursing after his friend, as incredulous as he was enraged.
“What the fuck do you think this is, huh? Where you gonna go?!”
The deep cut in his leg stung every time he took a step, but Ty managed to struggle up the stairs, leaving his own trail of small blood droplets. There wasn’t much more he could take of this; no doubt the nausea and lightheaded feeling were signs of that.
It wasn’t over yet. There was still more to do. The ceramic shiv remained steady in his hands despite how unsteady he felt otherwise. The trail of blood led Ty into a hallway. Pressing on, he left a bloody handprint smeared across some of the wallpaper as he steadied himself against a wall.
Nearly to the drawing room, he flinched as a blur of motion crossed his vision. Ty moved quickly, but not enough to be entirely out of harm’s way. The leading edge of the splitting maul cut a long, shallow, bloody arc across his chest. It was smart, leading him into a trap like that. Ren was starting to not act so much like himself.
It was too late. The hallway was narrow, and Lorenzo had blown his best shot. Ty dropped low and charged forward, tackling Lorenzo and propelling the two of them through the door to the drawing room. He’d meant to drive the shiv into Lorenzo’s neck after they hit the ground, but the impact winded him and he let go of the improvised weapon. The maul tumbled away too, somewhere near the door.
Once again, it was back to the two of them and whatever they could find.
It didn’t occur to him that it would be much of an impediment, when Lorenzo opted to throw the pan. Instinctively, Ty batted it away.
Instinct failed him, as the pan connected with the old cut on his forearm.
“Son of a-”
The space under the bandages felt wet again. The pain returned, worse than it had been before. Worse than it was when Katrina first cut him with that sword. Enough to make him nauseated, his legs nearly buckling under him.
It wasn’t over yet. Ty still kept the shiv tight in a reverse grip, ready to plunge it into Lorenzo’s gut the moment he charged him. The pain could still work for him. Ty could still exploit his own weakness. It wasn’t over.
The moment never came. Looking up, Ty saw Lorenzo had gone. The sound of footsteps heading up stairs echoed throughout the old house. Looking out towards the front, he caught a glimpse of the destruction the two of them had caused. Blood, broken glass and shattered furniture littered the dining area.
Ty took a step forward, nearly losing his footing. He suppressed a dry heave, coughing hoarsely.
That motherfucker was getting away. Running. Not facing down what he’d earned. Not accepting it.
Hatred drew into Ty’s chest, a wave of adrenaline following soon after. He shouted after Lorenzo, following the trail of blood and carnage back into the entryway.
“Ren, you running away? You fucking coward! You can’t run from this!”
The front door was still half-shut, and the trail of blood led up the stairs; Ty had heard correctly. He continued cursing after his friend, as incredulous as he was enraged.
“What the fuck do you think this is, huh? Where you gonna go?!”
The deep cut in his leg stung every time he took a step, but Ty managed to struggle up the stairs, leaving his own trail of small blood droplets. There wasn’t much more he could take of this; no doubt the nausea and lightheaded feeling were signs of that.
It wasn’t over yet. There was still more to do. The ceramic shiv remained steady in his hands despite how unsteady he felt otherwise. The trail of blood led Ty into a hallway. Pressing on, he left a bloody handprint smeared across some of the wallpaper as he steadied himself against a wall.
Nearly to the drawing room, he flinched as a blur of motion crossed his vision. Ty moved quickly, but not enough to be entirely out of harm’s way. The leading edge of the splitting maul cut a long, shallow, bloody arc across his chest. It was smart, leading him into a trap like that. Ren was starting to not act so much like himself.
It was too late. The hallway was narrow, and Lorenzo had blown his best shot. Ty dropped low and charged forward, tackling Lorenzo and propelling the two of them through the door to the drawing room. He’d meant to drive the shiv into Lorenzo’s neck after they hit the ground, but the impact winded him and he let go of the improvised weapon. The maul tumbled away too, somewhere near the door.
Once again, it was back to the two of them and whatever they could find.
Tyrell’s taunts dug their way into his head, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t give away his position. It didn’t matter what Ty thought of him. By now, nothing mattered to him but survival. Fighting and clawing his way past every obstacle in his path to home. Ty was no different than anything else he’d survived thus far. Another hurdle to jump. That was it. He could do this. He could finish all of this with his next attack. Lorenzo’s grip tightened on the maul, his hands slick with blood, his own or Ty’s who even could tell by now. Sweat and blood spilled down his face, his mouth still full of the metallic flavor and each minute sound of the manor reverberating in his ears as his heart beat louder and louder with each passing second. It was like he was in sensory overload.
A creak in the floor.
Lorenzo spun around the corner and attacked with all his might. Ty dodged as best he could, but the blade still hit it’s mark, slicing a crescent of blood down Tyrell’s chest. Blood splashed into his field of vision, and Lorenzo attempted to ready the maul for another strike, but his body was too weak and slow from the beating he’d just taken combined with the last six days of exhaustion violence and malnutrition. Lifting the maul again was too difficult a task. Ty charged at him in the narrow space of the hallway and his shoulder collided with Lorenzo’s chest. The maul slipped from his bloody hands as Ty’s inertia sent them both careening through the door to the drawing room, both of them hitting the ground and both of them losing their weapons.
Lorenzo heaved a deep harsh breath as instinct kicked in and he used as much force as he could muster to shove the other boy off of him. He spun around to his hands and knees and attempted to crawl away for the larger boy. He needed to find something, ANYTHING. A weapon, a shield, a tactic. He was running on fumes and his vision was blurring. Deep, guttural cries spilled from his lips as he moved and every part of his body begged him to stop. He wasn’t going to die, not now, not after everything he’d done to survive. Every part of himself he’d thrown away.
He reached the chase lounge, but he could feel that Ty was on his heels. He grabbed for the lounge to try and pull himself up, his head turning to look at his opponent with a mixture of fear and refusal to give in. His arm frantically patted the top of the seat, searching for anything to grab onto. Anything to stop the boy trying to end his life. He felt something, and grabbed it without thinking, swinging it around to hit Tyrell in the face. Lorenzo’s heart skipped for a moment, and he stared in awe and confusion after he saw what exactly he hit him with. His eyes flickered back to look at Tyrell.
A pillow…?
A creak in the floor.
Lorenzo spun around the corner and attacked with all his might. Ty dodged as best he could, but the blade still hit it’s mark, slicing a crescent of blood down Tyrell’s chest. Blood splashed into his field of vision, and Lorenzo attempted to ready the maul for another strike, but his body was too weak and slow from the beating he’d just taken combined with the last six days of exhaustion violence and malnutrition. Lifting the maul again was too difficult a task. Ty charged at him in the narrow space of the hallway and his shoulder collided with Lorenzo’s chest. The maul slipped from his bloody hands as Ty’s inertia sent them both careening through the door to the drawing room, both of them hitting the ground and both of them losing their weapons.
Lorenzo heaved a deep harsh breath as instinct kicked in and he used as much force as he could muster to shove the other boy off of him. He spun around to his hands and knees and attempted to crawl away for the larger boy. He needed to find something, ANYTHING. A weapon, a shield, a tactic. He was running on fumes and his vision was blurring. Deep, guttural cries spilled from his lips as he moved and every part of his body begged him to stop. He wasn’t going to die, not now, not after everything he’d done to survive. Every part of himself he’d thrown away.
He reached the chase lounge, but he could feel that Ty was on his heels. He grabbed for the lounge to try and pull himself up, his head turning to look at his opponent with a mixture of fear and refusal to give in. His arm frantically patted the top of the seat, searching for anything to grab onto. Anything to stop the boy trying to end his life. He felt something, and grabbed it without thinking, swinging it around to hit Tyrell in the face. Lorenzo’s heart skipped for a moment, and he stared in awe and confusion after he saw what exactly he hit him with. His eyes flickered back to look at Tyrell.
A pillow…?
*fwump*
Ty blinked, the soft impact interrupting everything. It stopped him cold. Didn’t hurt. Didn’t really feel like much of anything, at this point.
For some reason, it had more of an effect on him than the myriad cuts and bruises he’d sustained since the fight began.
There was another pillow nearby, fallen off the chaise lounge. Ty reached for it, blood staining the old fabric. He swung it at Lorenzo’s head.
A delirious, bloody smile spread across his face. He couldn't help but laugh.
Suddenly something soft hit Lorenzo in the cheek.
Lorenzo stared incredulously at Ty, then the pillow in his hand, then the pillow in his own hand, then the smile on Ty’s face.
Then Ty started to laugh.
Lorenzo’s mind was reeling.
But, there was a rumble in his chest, growing larger by the second.
Then he started to laugh, too.
Slowly at first, but growing larger and more animated by the second.
The laughter shook through his whole body, causing him to double over from the soreness in his chest as he continued to laugh and try to breathe at the same time. Tears welled up in his eyes as the two just sat there and laughed for what seemed like forever. Lorenzo dropped the pillow and wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to calm the movement and stop the aching, but his laughter continued all the same.
“Don… Don’t make-” A rush of giggles.
“Don’t make me laugh you-” More laughter and trying to take deep breaths to calm himself.
“You bitch! It… it hurts.” He did his best to sound tough, but it all came out so honestly. All of a sudden it felt like all the tension had vanished and they were back home in Chattanooga, hiding is some abandoned building smoking a blunt and laughing over nothing.
It felt like home.
Lorenzo stared incredulously at Ty, then the pillow in his hand, then the pillow in his own hand, then the smile on Ty’s face.
Then Ty started to laugh.
Lorenzo’s mind was reeling.
But, there was a rumble in his chest, growing larger by the second.
Then he started to laugh, too.
Slowly at first, but growing larger and more animated by the second.
The laughter shook through his whole body, causing him to double over from the soreness in his chest as he continued to laugh and try to breathe at the same time. Tears welled up in his eyes as the two just sat there and laughed for what seemed like forever. Lorenzo dropped the pillow and wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to calm the movement and stop the aching, but his laughter continued all the same.
“Don… Don’t make-” A rush of giggles.
“Don’t make me laugh you-” More laughter and trying to take deep breaths to calm himself.
“You bitch! It… it hurts.” He did his best to sound tough, but it all came out so honestly. All of a sudden it felt like all the tension had vanished and they were back home in Chattanooga, hiding is some abandoned building smoking a blunt and laughing over nothing.
It felt like home.