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vladajwrites · 1 year

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Razor’s Edge

Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven

Also available to be read on AO3, here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 6109

Notes;

this chapter includes particularly dark themes, it is of the utmost importance for me to remind you to please check trigger warnings again if needed. sorry for the delay in updating! this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, i will say that good things are on the way but this story will continue on track with its darker themes.

with that, all the love in the world xx

(Not Beta Read)

The sliver of heaven you shared with Charlie was all you had to hold on to. The autumn air was growing bitter and cold at a head splitting pace.

Friday morning came with a sharp dose of reality, pulling you from your thoughts that had, for the better part, been consumed by Charlie.

It was the early hours of the morning; the sun had only begun to rise. You were in bed all alone, awoken by the deafening buzz of your phone’s ringer.

You scrambled straight upwards, searching for your phone in the mess of your sheets, subconsciously searching for Charlie’s body besides you as well. This had been the first night this week that he had not spent beside you.

You mumbled, finding your phone, answering it without looking at the caller ID. Your eyes were heavy and still half clouded with sleep.

The half-hearted sedation was quickly shaken out of you as your aunt’s frantic voice came through in the other line.

“Oh my God, Oh my God! You’re okay!” Irina sobbed in relief.

Your entire body stiffened in an instant, as though a bolt of lightning held you straight up in bed. You pulled your phone away from your face placing the call on speakerphone, now seeing the previous missed calls and voicemails your aunt had left you prior flash on your home screen.

You could barely make out your own voice over the now deafening drum of your heartbeat. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m so sorry I missed your calls. What happened?”

Your stomach had already begun twisting itself up in knots, you subconsciously knew what must’ve transpired.

The line was silent for a moment; you understood that you were both just trying to find the right words to say.

“Do you know who it was?” You whispered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know. There was only one reason she must have called you so frantically and so early; another murder had taken place in Woodsboro.

Your aunt’s voice was muffled as she answered.

“What?” You croaked out.

She spoke the name again. Still, it was entirely too surreal. You couldn’t have caught it without asking her to speak again.

“No…” you stated, “who was it?” the tears were now steadily pricking up against your lash line.

“Scott Anderson. Did you know him? He was in your grade. Oh, dochka. I’m moving my flight. I’ll be home as soon as possible. I promise. I’m so sorry…”

You were swept through a wind tunnel, head blaring at her words. Her voice just seemed to ramble on and on into a catatonic hum.

Anderson? Dead? Murdered?

You couldn’t recall what you said afterwards. Couldn’t recall the end of the phone call. Couldn’t recall how you pulled yourself out of bed and made your way into the parking lot of Woodsboro High School.

You had hardly known the first two girls who were murdered, but knew from others that they were good, that they were decent people. You tried your hardest to convince yourself that they must’ve been targeted, specifically, for some unknown reason. But their murders must have been isolated. Right?

“The Woodsboro Senior, captain of the football team, Scott Anderson, was found butchered, gutted, in the early hours of this morning. This brutal murder can now be reasonably placed in correlation to the murders of two Woodsboro girls who had been killed just days prior.”

A female newscaster’s voice spoke from somewhere behind you as you pushed your way through the growing crowd that had formed outside of the school.

“It is now more apparent than ever that Ghostface has returned to Woodsboro. Their clear motive is still unavailable at this time.” The newscaster continued as you moved just out of earshot.

It was undeniable now; you had tired your very hardest until this point to deny it.

You dropped your things onto the floor beside your first period desk.

You couldn’t pay any attention to the surrounding students, to Kirby, or Jill.

You didn’t know what you needed, didn’t know what to do. You sat paralyzed until the first bell rang out around you.

You couldn’t get the image out of your head. The newscaster’s words buzzed in your mind. ‘Gutted.’ ‘Butchered.’

You gripped the corners of your desk with white knuckles, watching the clock tick onwards as the pit grew in your stomach.

You did your best to hold it all together until the feeling of nausea sent you up from your desk before the class was even dismissed.

You ran to the bathroom towards the end of the hall, falling to your knees in the stall, letting the contents of your stomach fall from you like loose change in your pockets.

After you spent minutes dry heaving above the toilet, you sat back against the cool tiled walls, pulling your knees into your chest.

You were sick.

So sick.

But it wasn’t the thought of Scotty begging for his life, or the thought of his insides turned outwards that caused this feeling alone.

It was the fact that the thought of all of this brought you so much relief, alongside a feeling of twisted vindication. You were quick up onto your knees again, retching.

You sat there on the bathroom floor until well into second period.

You forced the thoughts away, trying your best to clear your mind. Anderson was gone. There was a serial killer somewhere close whose motives and next course of action were completely unknown. There was nothing you could do about any of it besides pull yourself up and be strong.

You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, rinsing your mouth out thoroughly when you heard your phone buzz in your back pocket.

You used your elbow to wipe your face in lieu of a paper towel and reached for your phone.

A message from Irina appeared. “The earliest I could change my flight was for Sunday morning. Less than two days, love, I’ll be home soon.”

You cleared your throat, typing your response. “Okay, I’ll be okay.”

You were sure you must be okay. Your aunt would be home within the next few days. And maybe you wouldn’t have to spend the nights alone. You could always invite Charlie to stay again. Charlie-

How could you have not spoken to him yet today?

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to stay again last night. You knew he had things to attend to in the home he was responsible for. He hadn’t pushed to stay either, you had assumed he also did not want to overstay his welcome. There was no welcome he could possibly overstay with you, but you knew he was trying to be respectful.

But, with another murder, you were certain you’d both finally be on the same page that it wasn’t smart or safe for either of you to be alone.

You went to call Charlie but immediately ended it after the first ringer tone played through.

‘Idiot.’ You murmured to yourself. He was surely still in class, just like the rest of the student body, unlike you were.

You looked yourself over in the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot, skin sallow and pale from the episode you had just pushed through. This wasn’t a good look for anybody.

If there were any day to just go home and lock the doors behind you, it was this one.

You fixed yourself as best as you could, adjusting the hemline of your shirt, splashing cool water over your warm face once more.

You pulled out your phone again to send Charlie a message before exiting the bathroom.

“I’m going home for the day. Not feeling well, please let me know if you’re okay. Call me after school.”

You sent the message, shoving your phone back into your pocket and pushing open the bathroom door.

The hallways were a cruel and cold sort of empty. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, kept your body close to the lockers that lined the walls.

All you could hear was the dull hum of the fluorescent lighting above as you rounded the corner that led to the exit of the building, until-

Familiar voices reached your ears before you could make out the words they were saying. You spotted the familiar frame of Jill’s back towards you. She was speaking to someone in a small nook in the hallway. It wasn’t until you were nearly right beside Jill that you made out who she was speaking to-

“No, no. I’m done Jill.” Such a familiar voice. Even though hushed and barely audible, you could’ve recognized it anywhere. “Please.” It was Charlie.

Your heart skipped into your throat as you caught his line of sight.

His eyes were deep red, black circles laced tearfully under his waterline.

You couldn’t have spoken up if you had found the words.

He immediately stiffened as he realized you were passing by in front of him, as though you were the last possible person he could’ve expected to see.

You must’ve only held his gaze for a second. A minute.

You couldn’t have been sure.

Jill’s head snapped back to face you as your hands met the school entrance’s steel handles. Her expression overflowed with sickly venom.

Click.

You were out of the school within a second.

‘Done?’ Done with what?

Your head felt as though it had been crushed and spun by a mallet.

What could that have possibly meant?

You had no idea they even spoke to each other anymore. Charlie had made it seem as though they hadn’t kept in contact in years. And what could he have meant by ‘done?’

Your feet carried you forward mechanically, left-right-left-right.

You weren’t sure why your eyes were welling with tears.

You could hear your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

Click.

You slammed your car door behind you, peeling out of the parking lot as quickly as you could possibly have had.

What could he possibly have been speaking about with her?

The thought of it nearly sent you spiraling again. It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t almost had to pull over a number of times to empty your stomach all over again.

Was he seeing her? Was he telling her that he was done, done with whatever relationship they had formed?

You knew they weren’t friends. You would’ve seen them talking more, he would’ve mentioned it if that were true.

You slammed your front door behind you, stumbling up the steps to your bedroom.

It was just too much. You needed a second, a single second, to just pretend that this day had never happened.

Your phone began to ring, over and over and over again.

You knew who it must’ve been without checking the Caller ID.

You’d call him back later, you just needed a minute to try to sort this all out.

You turned off your phone, curling up in your bed below you, rocking yourself to dispel the thoughts of the day.

You weren’t sure when you had eventually drifted off into a sickly and disturbing daytime slumber.

In your dreams, you stood above Anderson’s body. You watched intently as he cowered in fear below you.

There was something sick there. Something that built and consumed you.

You had all of the control.

It was power.

There was a sudden sense of starvation for it as you thought back to the horrible things Scotty had said and done to you.

The twist of the blade in his stomach, the smile you felt on your face as you cut him again, and again.

A familiar coo could be heard behind you, somewhere in the distance. The voice praised you, instructed you on how to twist the hilt of your knife.

The familiar figure grew warm, traced its hands along your waist as you slashed the man who had previously made you feel so weak and powerless.

“Just like that doll, so perfect.” Charlie whispered behind you, urging you to turn and face him as your knife caught in Anderson’s chest.

You let the handle go, face contorting in pleasure as you watched Anderson’s breathing grow shallow.

You turned to face Charlie then, turned to return the kisses he placed gently alongside your neck. It was bliss.

You had never felt so strong as he carefully guided you and urged you on. You had never felt so safe and protected as you had in that moment. It was real to you. It was so incredibly real.

Click.

You shot up in bed. Chest heaving, hands grasping at your throat to try to catch your breath as the dream you had just had replayed itself over quickly in your mind. You were drenched in sweat; the room spun and shrunk around you.

The sun had set, you couldn’t have possibly made an accurate guess at the time.

You brought your hands down in front of you, your fingers trembled as you searched for blood you knew realistically could not be there under the dim lighting of the lamp on your desk.

You sat there for a moment, eyes glued to the ceiling, adjusting in the dark. A burn in your throat sent you carefully out of bed.

It seemed as though every sound was amplified as you crept to your bathroom down the hall.

You tore out of your damp clothing that clung and suffocated you, dropping it all in a disregarded pile on the tile flooring. You turned on the shower faucet, allowing the water to cool as much as possible.

You stood under the steady stream. The icy water was a needed comfort. You held your mouth open, swallowing the water until it made your stomach heavy.

You nearly fell back against the shower floor, pulling your knees into your chest again, letting the frigid water shock away any horrible thoughts that could cling to your mind.

After an indescribable amount of time had passed, you worked slowly, lathering soap across your body and through your hair. Your nails scraped and scratched across your skin in the process.

After getting yourself together as best as you could manage, you made your way back into bed.

You grabbed your phone, knowing it was time to face Charlie. You weren’t sure what you would say to him, he had left you more missed calls and text messages than you could easily count.

The phone rang, rang, and continued to ring until you were sent to his voicemail box.

You pulled the phone away from your face, ending the call. ‘Strange.’ You hummed to yourself.

You called him back again. You were met by his voice mail, again.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you thought up what to say.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I am ready to talk. Please call me back ASAP.”

You sighed, setting your phone back down on your chest.

The house was so quiet, you could make out the distinct sound of the crickets outside. The noise of your stomach groaning in hunger was quick to fill the air. You pushed yourself up and out of bed, sliding your phone into the waistband of the shorts you had put on after your shower.

There was no point in waiting around, starving, for Charlie to get back to you. You prayed that this was all just a simple misunderstanding, something he could easily explain. You refused to let yourself dwell on any other explanation.

You just hoped he’d get back to you quickly, the thought of going to bed tonight entirely alone after yet another murder sent a chill up your spine, made the dread build up inside you.

You rounded the top landing of the staircase, the far-off dim lighting of the kitchen illuminated your way down the steps.

You had just nearly come into view of the entryway when your heart skipped up into your throat.

The front door was opened just a sliver of the way, just enough so that you wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn't been paying careful attention.

You froze immediately, all of your senses heightened at once as you tried to steady and conceal your breathing.

You could’ve sworn you had closed it on your way in.

A terrible thought hit you then. Had you forgotten to lock it in your hurried daze to find some semblance of solace in your bedroom?

You listened as hard as you could for any sound that seemed out of place, searched for anything else that seemed out of the ordinary.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there in silence. You debated running back up into your bedroom, debated making a run for the front door.

But if someone would have come in… you would have heard them, surely, right?

Right?

You took an unsteady step forward, wincing as you heard the step creak below you.

“Hell- hello.” You called out, cleaning your throat.

You waited for another moment for a response.

“If there’s someone here, show yourself.” You took another step forward until you reached the entryway, your eyes quickly darted around as you reached for a candleholder that sat on the entryway table.

Nothing.

Complete and total silence.

After another moment, you sighed in relief, placing the candle holder back on the table and hurriedly shutting the door the rest of the way. You made sure to slide the lock shut this time.

You must not have closed the door like you believed you had. You scolded yourself for being so reckless. You had to be more careful than this.

Your stomach was still in knots as you made your way towards the kitchen. You were just on edge, that was all.

Click.

You processed the feeling of your phone slipping from your waistband and the sound it made falling to the floor and just out of reach before you processed the sudden overbearing feeling of a figure pressed up behind you.

You processed the feeling of a heavy and strong arm draped around and in front of your chest, holding you in place tightly and without room to writhe away before you noticed the sharp, nearly piercing, cold blade against your neck.

Silence.

This couldn’t be happening.

A thousand thoughts seemed to pass through your mind in an instant.

This was it.

It was all over.

You imagined Irina coming home to find your lifeless body in the hallway beside the living room, the room where you had shared so many of your most precious memories with her.

You imagined Kirby’s reaction when she learned the news of your passing.

Imagined how this would make Charlie feel-

Charlie…

Oh God, you would never see his face again; be in his arms again. You said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t hold himself responsible for any of this. You wished you wouldn’t have ignored his calls earlier in the day, you wished more than anything that his last memories of you alive would have been of something good. It all seemed so meaningless now.

You wished you could have just told him you loved him one last time.

You were truly just so grateful in that moment that he was not there, that he would not have to face the same fate you were about to.

Your eyes welled over with tears, the surrounding air had long been sucked away. You were standing in an empty vacuum of time and space.

The fear you held was quickly consumed by resignation and peace. There would be no fighting your way out of this.

You sucked in what you assumed would be your final breath. The first tear slipped down your face, you waited, waited for the searing pain that was bound to come.

Only it never came at all. The grip around you tightened incrementally, if only for a second longer, before disappearing all together.

You heard a heavy thud behind you as the assailant fell to their knees.

You coughed and sputtered as you realized what had just happened. You scrambled for the knife that laid in front of you, your adrenaline now kicking into high gear.

You held up the knife and spun to face the masked figure that knelt in front of you.

You watched with shaking hands and blurred vision as a dark gloved hand came up to rip off the Ghostface mask to be thrown across the hall.

The sight that unfolded in front of you was more horrible than anything you could have prepared yourself for.

“No…” Your voice cracked on your words.

Charlie sat before you. The tears streaked down his face in a constant stream, his hands grabbed through his hair before falling back at his sides in resignation.

“I can’t do it, fuck I can’t do this.” He spoke more to himself than you. It nearly seemed as though he was begging you to do something, anything.

You couldn’t even begin to process the emotions that took hold of you at that moment.

Charlie went to move closer to you, you instinctively held the blade tighter pointed towards him in response.

He looked so incredibly pained by your movements.

“Get the fuck away from me.” You spat between broken breaths.

Charlie Walker was the murderer who terrorized Woodsboro. And what was worse, you had trusted him. You loved him. Loved a killer.

And now he was here, to hurt you. To kill you. In a single instant, he had destroyed every shred of faith you had in him.

The entire rug of reality was swept from underneath your feet in one swift motion.

He shifted backwards, putting more space between you in some sort of offer of comfort.

He raised his hands above his head, grimacing as he watched you flinch.

“Please, you have to kill me. Please, I can’t hurt you. I can’t do this anymore. I’m begging you.” Charlie’s voice was just above a whisper. You could tell he was trying to hold it together as best as possible. He was failing miserably.

The entire room seemed to tilt and turn upside down and back again at his words.

What did he mean by this? Kill him? He had come here to kill you.

The sincerity in his tone and expression as he softly pleaded with you over and over broke you completely apart again.

Could you do it? Could you really kill him?

Your grip on the knife faltered for a moment as you looked him over.

“What are you talking about, Charlie?” You begged, you wished he could give you some sort of explanation for all of this.

He shook his head violently, you could tell each second that passed brought him even more pain.

“I couldn’t let her do it. I couldn’t…” He continued, catching on his own words.

“Her?” Your eyes were wild now, your mind worked at breakneck speed, trying to puzzle this all together.

“She didn’t give me a choice, she decided you had to be next. I couldn’t let her… If she would have been the one to get her hands on you,” Charlie continued, seemingly ignoring your question. “I thought I could at least make it painless, take away any of your suffering. But I can’t, it has to be me. If you kill me, there will be too many eyes on you. There won’t be any way she could touch you then. You’d be safe.” He spoke in rapid succession.

It hit you then, Jill’s expression earlier that day in the hallway, the conversation you had overheard, the both of their absences that night of the party when the first murders had taken place.

Clang.

The knife slipped from your hands as you went nearly completely slack at the realization.

Jill and Charlie, working together, murdering together. She had decided you were to be their next kill.

“With Jill?” Your lip quivered at the question. He nodded, you already knew the answer.

You dropped to your knees in front of Charlie.

Your vision went in and out, dark and light splotches clouded your line of sight. You could barely make out Charlie’s figure or voice just in front of you.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I didn’t have time to plan, I would’ve gotten you to safety. I would’ve turned myself in. I had no choice but to come tonight, come when I did. She thinks I’ve told you something, that you know something about all of this. She decided today, she would’ve come if I hadn’t begged her to be the one to do it instead. All I could think about was keeping you out of as much pain as I could.”

You could hardly understand what he was saying. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing.

He wiped away at his tears, composing himself before speaking again. “But now I see. You have to be the one to kill me, she’ll let you go then. She’ll have to.”

“No…” You murmured. How could you bring yourself to do something so horrible?

How could he have been involved in these crimes? The man in front of you now seemed entirely transformed from the sweet boy you once imagined.

You thought back though, carefully, on the story about his father, that night he had stepped in between you and Anderson. You had so many questions; it was right in front of you all this time.

“Please, doll. You have to do it.” He was growing increasingly desperate.

You shook your head again. If he were truly just a monster, truly just began all of this because it was something he wanted to do; then maybe you could choose your life over his own. There had to be more than this, though. There had to be a reason behind this all.

“How did this all begin, Charlie? I mean, was any part of you that you’ve shown me even real? If you tell me the truth…” you paused for a moment, swallowing hard, eyes flicking between the discarded blade and Charlie’s gaze. “I’ll do what you want.”

He took a deep breath, nodding, easing back a bit more.

You tried to keep yourself as composed as you could possibly manage in that moment. You made sure to settle on your knees with easy access to the blade if you needed it at any time. Something in his expression calmed your nerves, even if only slightly.

If he had complete intentions of harming you, he would have done so when he had total control, right? You could allow him to explain all of this.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “I just want you to know that this, us, is real. I do love you. I’ve always meant that.”

You bit your lip hard, nodding, urging him to continue.

“The story about my father was true. I did murder him to save my mother and I. Jill was the only one who knew, and she…” He paused for a moment, eyes dropping to the ground. “We lost contact after everything had transpired years ago. It wasn’t until this summer that she approached me, told me her plan.”

“What plan, Charlie?” You were trying your hardest to process and retain all the information he was sharing with you.

He inhaled deeply. “I’m sure you know by now who her aunt is.”

You nodded yes, Sidney Prescott. But wouldn’t her relation to Sidney make her a likely victim of all of this? How could she resort to perpetuating a nightmare her aunt had survived years ago?

As though Charlie understood your confusion without having to voice it, he continued. “She is tired of living in her aunt’s shadow. She wanted the fame. She wanted to be the perfect victim.”

You felt your face twist in disgust and horror.

“And you… you’re doing this to help her… become famous? Are you doing this because you want the fame too?” Your voice raised as you questioned him. You subconsciously shifted closer to the knife.

Charlie looked devastated at your words, as though he felt entirely ashamed that you could assume so low of him.

He shook his head vehemently. “No, no. Not at all. When she first told me her plan, I laughed in her face. I didn’t think she was serious. But she- she grew angry, told me I didn’t have any other option but to help her in all of this.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t have a choice?” You questioned him, not fully believing what he was telling you. He had to have had some other option than to resort to planned murder.

“What I didn’t know before all of this, she had recorded the phone call I had made to her after my father’s death. She had proof that I had planned to do it. She said if helped her, she would delete the evidence. When I told her no again, told her I’d rather turn myself in…” the tears began to run down his face again. “She threatened my mother, and I knew she meant it.”

You sat in stunned silence. How could she be so cruel? So calculating? She would’ve turned him in if he refused, then with him behind bars she would’ve murdered his own mother. You wouldn’t have ever imagined her capable of this.

You weren’t sure why you trusted Charlie at this moment, but you believed him, wholeheartedly.

“That was months ago now, when the school year started, I still had hope that she would let this all go. But she only grew more obsessive. I should’ve known better. I should’ve stayed away from you. I almost didn’t go through with those first murders that night of the party, but…”

He held your gaze intently, you hadn’t realized just how long you’d been holding your breath.

“But what, Charlie?” You knew the answer already.

“She threatened you.” His voice cracked on his last word.

“She promised me that you’d be safe through all of this. She promised me that you would be off limits.”

He couldn’t stop himself from grabbing you in his arms then, pulling you closer to his chest. You shivered at his touch, only you couldn’t pull away, couldn’t bring yourself to love an inch away from him.

“I’m so sorry, I know you’ll never be able to forgive me, never be able to remember me the same way. I’m so, so sorry. I love you more than life itself, and I’m the reason you were ever in any danger at all.”

You were in shock, complete and utter shock. You knew something had been going on with him. You had no idea how much he was hurting, how much he was carrying. He’d done this all to protect his mother, he’d done this all for you.

And now…? It couldn’t all be for nothing. It couldn’t end like this. That evil, manipulating bitch has used and abused Charlie into nothingness with complete disregard.

You knew he meant what he said, could read him like a book. He would never hurt you, would choose your own life and well-being over even his peace of mind. She destroyed your sweet boy, used his most traumatic experiences against him to bend him to her will, knowing he’d comply for the people he loved.

Your hurt and terror and confusion was slowly but surely bubbling up into something dark, something you had never felt before. It was rage, murderous rage.

Your face contorted, the tears that streaked your face grew hot against your skin and dried completely.

You pulled away from Charlie, holding both of his shoulders in your hands. Your face was just inches in front of his own.

“We have to end this.” You spoke with more determination than you had ever spoken with before.

Your expression was drawn in shrewd control as your growing plan developed in your thoughts. Your solution and way out was decided at that moment.

Charlie seemed equally surprised and confused by both your sudden actions and words.

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to steady his voice to meet your focus. You could tell your idea had not yet been thought up by him.

Your lips twitched upwards cruelly, as if you were about to recite some sick joke. “We have to kill her, Charlie.”

He shook his head, eyes widening in disbelief. “No, no. If we both live tonight, she will know for certain that you know. You will be in even more danger, I’m the one who has to die.”

Your smile widened. You could both come out of this. You knew you found your only other option.

“No, see,” you grabbed the blade in one hand while forcing the hilt into Charlie’s grasps with the other. He seemed in pain to even be holding it. “If you just make it look like you tried, like you tried to kill me, she won’t suspect anything. It’ll at least buy us time, Charlie, to figure out a real plan.”

He looked at you in disbelief, the disbelief was quickly overshadowed by realization as you gently guided his hand upwards until the tip of the knife pressed against the small space below your shoulder.

“No, baby, I can’t hurt you.” He was so sincere, so gentle.

You would need time to process this, need time to heal. But at this very moment, neither of you had the gift of another option that didn’t result in certain death and time was ticking by.

He had done so much for you, because he loved you.

It was your turn to return the favor. You would do this because you loved him, you would truly die for him, die to bring some safety and peace back into his life.

“Please, if you help, just here,” you shoved the knife forwards a bit until it just pierced your skin through your t-shirt. You both winced at the contact. “It will be done and over quickly. I’ll phone the police as soon as you leave.”

You tried your best to be convincing that this plan would work.

He knew this was the only way, completely hated himself for it all. You could read it all in his expression. If he took your place here, it would be too obvious that he was involved.

You wrapped both hands around his own and held the blade even tighter. He needed the reassurance more than you did.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. No vital organs here.” You tried to laugh, giving him a sorrowful half smile.

His lip quivered, eyes darting between you and the blade quickly before landing steadily and softly on your face.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his own. The kiss was so incredibly gentle, it was the kind you knew you’d never experience again.

He kissed you back, running his free hand gently over the back of your head.

“I love you Charlie.” You whispered, inching forward even closer.

“I love you, more than life itself.” He replied earnestly.

With that, you pushed his hands forward with all your might.

White, scalding, blinding pain.

You couldn’t hold back the throat tearing scream that escaped from between your lips.

Charlie removed the blade quickly as your hands fell to your sides.

He recited a string of obscenities and ‘I love you’s’ as he took such gentle care to lower you to the ground.

He stood, you could barely focus on his frame in front of you.

He knelt down one more time, kissing across your lips and face. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He wouldn’t let go, you knew this was killing him. It was killing you.

“Go, I’ll be okay.” You stated as firmly as possible, time was of the essence.

His lip quivered as he stepped back, quickly grabbing his discarded mask and blade.

You reached for your phone that laid right beside your fingertips and dialed the numbers 911. You could hardly bring yourself to answer the operator’s questions. You pressed your hands tightly to the wound as your vision came in and out in darkening waves.

You willed your eyes open to watch Charlie walk out of the home through the front door until he disappeared, closing it behind him.

The last thing you could recall before slipping into unconsciousness was the familiar blare of sirens and flashing lights coming through the bay window.

You could only pray that this plan would be enough, even just for now, even just to buy some time, to ensure safety.

It just had to be enough.

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