I couldn’t look at her. It hurt too much. The pain in my chest was excruciating. My lungs throbbed with every breath I took.

I couldn’t be in that room. I couldn’t be in the room where Spencer’s broken and murdered body lay. I wished I could say that I was numb, but I wasn’t. Pain burned within me. Greif overwhelmed me. I felt empty, but not a numb empty, an agonizing empty.

I sat hunched over in a chair outside of her hospital room, my face buried in my hands. There was no getting out of this; I had to tell the Police Officers exactly what happened and everything that I knew. There was no getting out of revealing her story. There was no getting out of reliving that night.


I groaned, rolling over onto my stomach. Cold, wet grass met my face. I touched my cheek tenderly; it was incredibly sore with betrayal. As I opened my eyes groggily, I became suddenly alarmed with recognition. I pushed my hands into the soft, cushiony earth, springing myself up onto my feet. I swayed a bit when I got up, needing to hold my arms out to balance and widen my eyes to focus. Where did she go, and what was she going to do?

I raced back into the house, my heart beating outside of my chest. At this point, Vic was already in the kitchen; the lights were on, his face contorted with confusion and pain as he delicately held a sharp, bloody knife. “Wha-what…” he stuttered, unable to form a complete thought. He had heard all of the commotion; Tony and Mike made there way into the kitchen, as well. Everyone had heard all of the commotion.

“She’s killing herself,” I said hastily and seriously. Vic looked at the knife, back at me, and then back at the knife once more, his face innocent and wondering. I shook my head, indicating that that was not it. That was not her method of suicide.

“Where the fuck is she?” Vic finally spoke, while Mike and Tony stood to the side like statues. My entire body was shaking violently as I tried to form words again. I was so panicked that I couldn’t move.

I shook my head, indicating I didn't know. I touched my face lightly, again; surely it was bruising already. “S-she punched me,” I said, my breath hitching. I had no idea where she was or what she was doing.

I didn’t have time to explain the situation to the other guys. Instead, we went on a mad search for her. I had to stop her. I had to save her, because she was wrong.

But she wasn’t anywhere in the house. Where else would she go, though?

“Let’s split up,” Vic said roughly. Tony and Mike jumped into Mike’s car while Vic and I piled into Vic’s. Where were we splitting up to, though? San Diego was so big… she could be anywhere.

“She could also be dead, and we have no other options,” Vic said sharply. I didn’t realize that I had spoken out loud.

My body was shaking so much that I could hardly focus on where Vic was driving.

“Where….”

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” Vic mumbled. He drove desperately and accelerated. I hated being in the car looking for her. I felt like I was trapped and helpless. I needed to get out and run. I needed to search every building that meant something to her. I needed to search every inch of the city. You can’t do that in a car, unless you know where you were going.

Vic’s car suddenly came to a screeching halt, spinning out in the process. He must have known where he was going.

The record shop.

A mass crowd of people.

Police cars, an ambulance.

Blue and red lights flickering together, silently.

I heard one terrible, agonizing scream as I dropped to my knees breathlessly. I recognized it as my own. I fell forward onto my hands; I felt like something was lodged in the back of my lungs, preventing me from breathing properly.

I felt like I was going to die.

Two arms tugged on me desperately. Vic tried to get me up, but I looked at him with glassy eyes. His eyes were red and his cheeks were watery as he tried to get me up, but my legs were not going to allow me to run to her. I couldn’t… I just couldn’t. I was stuck here. I would forever be stuck here. Nothing would ever be the same again.

No, nothing would ever be the same, because everything would be worse.


She was dead. Oh, God, she was dead.

“No, she’s not. But she’s barely alive,” Vic said. His voice was broken, and I knew why. He thought that he had helped her. He tried to protect her as much as I did. He tried to stop her for me, but his honest words did nothing for her. He thought that he had helped her; I thought that I had helped her. But I found that her previous warnings were right; nobody could help her.

She wasn’t dead physically, but she was dead in the mind. And that might be worse.


That was last week. Now, I sat against the wall in anguish in a different building, a different kind of hospital. “I am the killer who burned your home,” Spencer’s words made me feel light-headed. I brought my hands to both sides of my head, digging my nails past my hair and into the skin protecting my skull. I tried to contain screams.

“Come on, Jaime,” I felt hands grip my shoulders. Vic had to do that a lot; he had to yank me out of my thoughts. He had to influence me to move.

I stood up numbly. Yes, now I was numb. The pain inside of me killed me, now I was as good as a ghost. I didn’t feel anything. I could walk into a wall and still feel nothing. Hell, I could probably walk through it.

I went back to Vic and Mike’s house. Tony was there, too, but I didn’t want to see them. It felt too morbid, the way nobody spoke. The way everybody mourned over what had happened… she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead, but she was sure as hell not alive, either.

And that killed me.

I didn’t realize until later that their grieving facial and bodily expressions were for me. My best friends, my band mates, and my brothers… they were lamenting for my death. They knew what was going to happen. Everything was going to start up again. The depression, the nightmares, the loneliness.

They were mourning for me, because they’ve never seen their best friend so dead.


~~

“I won’t let you destroy yourself, Spencer,” I had said.

“I’m sorry,” she had responded.

“Don’t be sorry. Just, please, don’t do it again. You’re way too special to do that to yourself.”

“I don’t do it to myself,” she had said. Drew Sanders’ horrible image screamed in my head.

“Well, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you,” I had promised. I had promised it.

“I know,” she had said. “I know you won’t let me fall.”


But I had let her fall. She jumped, and she fell. And now she was on suicide watch in a mental hospital, visits only limited to thirty minutes three times a week. They thought she was crazy. They thought that she was too insane for outside human contact.

I only visited her the first day visitors were allowed. She pushed me out, she pushed me away, because I failed. I had failed to keep my promise to her. She wouldn’t let me help her anymore. She would never let me in again.

Another taste filled my mouth: bitterness. I had told her everything about me, I had revealed my own demons to her, yet she tried to kill herself, anyway. They say that over sixty-percent of your body was made up of water; well, over sixty-percent of my body was made up of betrayal.

I punched the couch I was laying on with my fists tightly clenched.

I refused to sleep in that room… the room where we used to sleep together. The nightmares would surely be worse in there. But that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t get nightmares, here, either.

I sat up on the couch curiously, rubbing my eyes with my fists. I thought I just saw something… someone…

Her image then flickered like a strobe light before me. I shook my head. I didn’t see that. No, that was my imagination.

But then it happened again, and, this time, a smirk stretched across her face. I clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to see it, but her image was in my head, too.

When I opened my eyes again she was even closer, her image flickering again. My head pounded each time she appeared; I felt dizzy, drunk, dead.

The walls around me shifted as she moved closer and closer, the smile on her face widening. She blended into the darkness of the house and then flashed like lightning. She swayed as she made her way to me, and I gripped the blanket I slept on in terror. She was everywhere, and her eyes penetrated my soul.

“What soul, Jaime?” she spoke, her voice spine chilling.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. The hair on my arms stood up, and I shivered. She smiled seductively at me again, and now her knees were on the couch on each side of me, straddling me. Her soft fingers traced my neck and jaw, slowly lifting my chin back. She brought her lips to my neck tenderly, and I shivered again.

She dragged her lips up my neck, stopping at the corner of my mouth. She opened her mouth to speak, whispering into mine.

“What did I tell you, Jaime?”

I shook my head, my breathing catching.

She laughed, and the laugh slowly evolved in to an evil, crooked snicker. She pulled back herself from me, now standing extremely straight and still. She tilted her head to the side, and her once beautiful features turned terrible, twisting in an angry and satanic way.

“I told you that if you get too close to the fire, you may burn. Why didn’t you listen? How do you feel now?” Her voice boomed, and her body flickered once again, like a dysfunctional hologram, her image slowly changing… at one millisecond it was her, and then the next it was a different person… a man with a mouth that snarled, eyes that killed, and a tattoo of flames running up his neck…

I opened my eyes and sat up, in shock, sweat pouring from every inch of my body. The nightmares were back. And Spencer was no longer the one who could save me from them. She was no longer my savoir, because she was now my nightmare.

Notes

Hello! So, this is the sequel to "I'm A Killer Who Burned Your Home". I hope that you guys will like this as much as you liked that one, but we will see!
This one will mostly be from Jaime's POV, to kind of get in his head and see how he handles everything.
(Just so you know, everything about Jaime's life in this story is completely made up with my imagination, but I think that is pretty obvious... except like him being in a band and all that fun stuff)

So, I have like three different paths of the turn out of this story, but I'm not sure which one to take.

Will it be a happy ending with Spencer, a happy ending without Spencer, or an unhappy ending?

I think it is pretty clear that I enjoy dramatic things, so expect plenty of that!

Also, what do YOU guys want to happen?? I always love suggestions!

xoxo