Throughout history high pitched screams have always been considered horrific events. Whether it was the scream of the baby, causing horror in a young mothers mind, or the shrill wails of a banshee, nothing good came from the loud noises of horror. So when Scott, awake and in pain, heard a high pitched wail it was unusual to say that he was undeniably happy. Maybe it was because things couldn't get worse. Maybe because he wanted a reason, any reason, to be happy. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the sirens meant the cops were on their way. It had taken over a day but they were coming. They'd save the day. If he was lucky, his father would be with them, ready to burst in and save the day.

Only, Scott's father wasn't a hero. Neither was he. His entire family was made up of weaklings pretending to be strong. People who lied about how they felt and tried their hardest not to be taken away from another, that's all they were.

Sitting up and groaning in pain, Scott looked over at the windows high above where the sunlight streamed in. They were sitting in the locker rooms. I always have been in pain in this room. "Cas--Colton?" he asked, turning his head to the door. Colton stood watch, standing straight and sure of himself. There was anger in his eyes and more bruises and scratches than anyone could name on his body. "Colton, how long until they get here?"

He took his time in responding. It was as if he too were having trouble accepting his name. Finally, he shook his head and said, "Maybe ten minutes before they reach the school. It'll be hours before they make it in, maybe more. With the Psychopaths still here, guarding as they are, it'll take long. They might not know we're still here. They might blow us up." His words held a finality so certain nothing could break it.

Pain ached up Scott's side and the crusted blood stretched taunt against his body as he stood up. "We have to get out," he said. Moans of pain masked his words and he tried not to wince.

"God dammit, don't you think I know that?"

"We need a plan."

"There's no use in plans, Scottie! They're going to fucking demolish us."

Tears swelled in his eyes and Scott tried to stop them from falling. It grew harder with every passing second. Don't be a wimp. Outside, the sun continued to rise as though the rain from the night prior had never fell. The sky, a deep, forgetful blue, held no room for dark clouds or horrors. Don't be a wimp. I have to get us out. Not him too. I can't lose him. "We can't give up," he whispered, "we can't fucking give up. I won't let you die again. Please, Colton, we have to get out."

Colton sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Can't we make a run for it?"

"They're blocking all exits. Not even we could run fast enough, West. They have guns. We don't have anything," Colton said. "We don't have nothing at all." It's really him. It's really Colton. Caster...Caster is...Caster's dead.

Movement, just outside the classroom. Both boys froze. Leaning against a wall, Colton slowly edged himself close to the door and peeked out the small slit of a window. Scott fell against a stall, his eyes halfway closed as he too watched. With all the blood on him and the dead bodies around him, it wouldn't be hard to assume he was already dead.

He couldn't see much, but he did see a flash of orange hair and boobs. Goddamn girls and their goddamn boobs. She was one of them. Oh god, she's going to find us. They're going to catch us. The blood pooled up on his makeshift tourniquet, dripping only the floor in slow, unstable drops. Red stained the ground. It's fake, God, it's so red. Isn't blood supposed to be darker than this? The dark, dramatic red that boarders on black? The dead look like that. Why don't I?

Voices called to one another. A male and female, presumably siblings by their joking voices. "Kylee," the guy said, "I already told you. I scouted this area."

"Whatever, goofhead," she said, giggling.

"Like hell. I'll show you what's stupid!"

She giggled loudly and slapped him. They were fighting or something similar, but they'd gone away from the door. Scott had no idea what was happening. Don't walk in here, he pleaded. Scott looked over at his friend with wide eyes and watched as Colton tried to mouth something to him. I can't read lips, fuck!

"Dammit," she shouted all of a sudden, "Sammy gave us a mission! Will you shut up so we can clear the locker rooms already?"

"Fine, fine," he whined.

They walked back up to the door. Kylee, Scott was assuming, peeked her head inside the door and glanced through. Her eyes were red. A devil. She's a fucking devil. She blinked twice, then opened the door with a long creek. Don't be a wimp. For a second nothing happened, then she turned to tell her partner something and screamed. Colton.

"Fuck, they're here! Shoot, Gonzalo," she shouted.

Colton moved like lightning. One second he was pressed against the wall and the next he had her pinned to the ground with his hands around her throat. Gonzalo was fumbling with some sort of weapon but he wasn't quick enough. Just as Scott was able to pull himself away from the lockers the snap sounded and the girl's cries faded. Just like that she was gone. Another soul swallowed into the dark abyss that once had been a peaceful high school. Another life lost in the attack. It didn't matter that she'd been trying to kill them. Life was life.

Until it was death.

Death. That was what caused Scott to run forward despite his pain and tackle the guy. It was what caused Colton to stand, leaving the body behind, and knock the Psychopath out in three hits. Colton didn't kill him. Instead, the boys left him there, unconscious, and they looked at one another with wide eyes and great heaving breaths.

"We have to get out," Scott whispered. It was barely an echo of a cry far larger than ever imagined. I can't let him die.

Colton nodded. "We need weapons. I can't shoot that thing in his hands." He can't die. Not again.

Scott nodded as well, holding a hand to his side and pressing in. The pain felt nice. A reminder of all he had to live for. A reminder that he wasn't dead just yet. His eyes trailed down to the two, scanning over their pockets and jackets for bulges. The boy had none but a flash of metal caught Scott's eye and he bent down beside the girl with a grunt of pain. "Come on," he whispered, his hands slipping into her pocket, "don't be stuck...I just need to borrow this."

He pulled it out, feeling the stiffened metal and cold surface that had several notches and one big, sharp knife hidden away inside. The sun, still rising as it was, streamed in enough light for him to read the engraving on the side. JR.

"Swiss?" Colton asked. A bark of a laugh escaped his throat and rang throughout the hall. "Dammit, this is perfect. It's level one in a video game: Start off with nothing, and yet we end with some crappy weapons and deaths on the kill list. Three hundred points Scott, thousand Cas--me."

Scott couldn't laugh through the lump that'd formed in his throat. We have to kill them to get out, he realized. They won't let us out alive. Not if they plan on escaping. They'll kill us all and leave with no witnesses to say who looked like what or said what.

"Scottie, I'm going to ask you to do something crazy."

"You can't get much more crazy," he muttered. "What's the plan, Bronxie?"

"Decoy." One word, a fairly simple one at that, but the plan was brilliant. "You remember when you twisted your ankle right before the big run?"

"God dammit, I could kiss you right now."

"Please don't."

"Every word you say is better than sex."

Colton laughed, almost sounding normal. "If we get out, we're so having sex," he joked. "You run, distract them, and I'll hide behind a corner. Get them to come my way and I'll stab them from behind."

Scott nodded, too caught up to answer.

"Then we can make for the main exit. The doors should be open if we can just get past the guards," he said. There was a breathless sense of sheer adrenaline around him. It graced his body the way makeup did a model, driving the way he moved like a jockey guided his horse around the track.

It didn't take them long to reach the main area. Hiding behind the wall in the hallway, Scott watched as Caster checked out the scene. After a few seconds he turned and whispered, "Looks like there's only two guarding this exit. There was three, but someone got radioed back the other way. If you can run out there and lead them back this way, I'll take them out and we'll be free."

Scott nodded. Don't be a wimp. He took a big breath in and out, staring into Colton's eyes and feeling a pain in his chest. All these years...and I never even noticed. Colton stared back and neither boy moved. Once again Scott felt the pressure of tears but he held them back and instead tried for a smile. It failed, but so did Colton's, and neither boy moved. "Be safe," Scott finally whispered.

"You be safe," Colton told him, his voice soft and serious. "Don't--" he coughed, "don't go dying on me now."

"I won't."

With a final glance, Scott turned his head and sighed. Though the pain had dulled to a dry thump that stayed in the area, it was still pain. He'd have to pray his legs would be fine enough to work even with the finely done cuts that stitches their way across the front of his knees. After a second he ran, heading straight for the doors. There was no time to look back. If they were to shoot, he'd die. Don't be a wimp.

He crossed the corner.

Don't be a wimp.

Across the open space.

Don't be a wimp.

Scott barely glanced at the two. There was a bigger, muscular guy, and a thinner one with white hair. Don't be a wimp. They shouted something and he turned on his heels, making as though he'd changed his mind. Don't be a wimp.

As he ran they followed. The first wasn't good enough for him to worry about, but a blonde with a scar and a knife kept up fairly well. "You're not gonna be running much faster with that wound," he taunted. Scott ignored him, scrambling to move faster and not think about the excruciating pain coursing through his body. "One step."

Scott kept running.

"One trip! Fall!" He was shouting random things and reached out to slash with the knife. It missed. "Come here, you damn idiot! Stanley, shoot this mother fucker down for me!"

The bigger guy, more than twenty feet behind and trying hard not to wheeze, stopped to fumble with his gun and pull it out, only to find himself unable to as Colton jumped out from behind the water fountain and slammed the knife down into his neck. The hilt ran smoothly in and out and as the blood pooled out there was nothing left but a body and a shout that filled the halls.

*

So I have two hours (roughly) that I'll be online. I have to turn this in tonight. Help?! Any thoughts? :)