P H I L ' S  P O V

tw// gorey details: lots of blood, broken bones, rope burns, physical/verbal abuse, lots of swearing

I missed.

My gun that was once aimed at Wirrow's head fell in shame, and my jaw dropped. Wirrow filled with rage. I would've hit him. I could've hit him, but my hands had been shaking and I wasn't focused.

"You tried to shoot me?" Wirrow screamed. "That's it!"

He stomped over, snatching the gun from the ground and forcing it into my hands. He then used one arm to hold me in a chokehold, the other keeping my hands on the gun.

"Stop it!" Dan cried.

"I'll make you choose."

"No!"

I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt my fingers be pushed against the trigger. Screaming echoed throughout the forest, and then a gunshot silenced one.

"No! How could you?"

I opened my eyes, Wirrow letting go and taking the gun with him. He stood by Bryony. My eyes widened, my hands shaking.

"Oh god," I murmured.

I watched as Dan's mother fell from her chair and hit the ground, blood beginning to puddle around her.

Dan was sobbing, his body trembling in shock.

"How sad," Wirrow forced a pout, chuckling.

Dan jumped up from his chair, his fists clenched as he dropped to his knees next to her body. "She was my mother!" He cried. He held her head in his lap, tears like rivers flowing from his eyes.

"You really have made a bad decision indeed, Phil."

I turned to glare at Wirrow. "You were the one that made me!" I growled.

"Because you were too fucking stupid to make a decision. This is all your fault."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Then how was it a bad decision if you chose it?"

"Because Dan knows what we do, so either way he'll end up just like his mother," Bryony cut in, a hint of sadness and guilt in her voice.

"No," I snarled. Dan whimpered and hid behind me, his arms clutching the back of my shirt tightly. "You're not gonna touch him. I won't let you."

"That's exactly what you said to me about Ryan, but look where he ended up."

"I'm not going to let him end up like Ryan! I'm not going to lose another person I care about! I'm tired of giving up!"

"He's a short little child capable of nothing but complaining! If anything, me killing him will do us all a favor! He'll go to heaven and meet Ryan- the two can bond over the fact that you were too weak to protect them."

"Shut up!" Dan cried, gritting his teeth.

"What? You gonna cry again? Guess what, kid? You've got nobody to cry to now!" Wirrow snapped, gesturing to his dead mother on the ground.

"I never did," Dan whispered sadly to himself, but I was the only one who heard him.

I glared, leaving Dan's grasp to knock Wirrow to the ground. My gun fell from my grasp as his back hit the mud.

I threw punches wildly, hitting his nose, hearing a snap. I wanted to kill him- slowly and painfully.

Dan let out a shriek, about to come grab me, but Bryony held him back. I silently thanked her, knowing it wouldn't be good if he tried to step in. This was our fight, not his.

He knocked me off and we stood, punching at each other again. I threw my fist and knocked him in the jaw, causing him to stumble. He knocked me backwards and clasped his fists around my throat.

I struggled against him, trying my best to breathe, but the force was blocking even just a dose of air.

"Stop it!" Dan begged behind me. "Let him go!"

Wirrow ignored him, in fact he tightened his grip on me. My vision was becoming blurry, and I felt dizzy. I looked at Bryony. She wanted to help, I could see it in her eyes. But we all feared Wirrow.

Suddenly Dan freed himself of Bryony's grasp and ran for my fallen gun, snatching it in his hands.

It all happened in slow motion.

The gunshot, the blood. I felt warm crimson seep through my clothes and my lungs stung.

But one thing was different.

This blood wasn't mine. I looked up to see Wirrow's eyes wide in shock, his jaw dropped. I turned to face Dan to see the gun in his hands, steam moving from the barrel of the gun. His face had paled, shocked of what he just did.

I sat up, coughing and gasping for air.

He shot Wirrow.

I shoved Wirrow off me and Bryony winced, running over to kneel beside him.

"It doesn't end here," was his last words.

Bryony kneeled beside his body, eyes watering. Even if he was a horrible person, they had been close before I even met them. We said nothing and Dan helped me up, his arm linking onto to my shoulders, his lips chapped and face still pale. I grabbed his shoulders. "We have to go."

"Where?"

Police sirens and ambulances began to ring throughout the air.

I shook my head, grabbing Dan's arm. I looked at Bryony. "I'm sorry," I whispered to her, then looked at Dan. "Come on."

I pulled him with me and we ran as the shouting got louder.  I noticed Dan struggling to keep up, turning to face him. "What is it?"

"I feel sick. I can't believe I killed someone."

"Do you want me to carry you?"

He nodded. "Where are we going?"

I shuffled towards him and squatted, feeling his weight push against my back. I slipped my hands under his thighs as his arms locked onto my shoulders, his head leaning against mine as we walked.

"You'll see," I told the boy. We went to my car and to his house, and I grabbed his laptop.

I opened it up and typed in flight tickets, searching for one out of the country.

"There's a flight to the UK in two and a half hours."

"We'll never make it!" Dan protested.

"We won't make it here if we stay. We both killed someone today, Dan. We've both got blood on our hands. It's not safe for us anymore."

"But my dad. . . your family. . . and Nyla?"

"We'll only put them in more danger if we stay. We have to go, Dan. We don't have a choice."

He sighed and I reached out and cupped his jawline, about to kiss him when I told myself not to. Instead, I pushed a strand of hair from his face, locking eyes with him. "Get packed and treat your wounds the best you can. Meet outside in ten minutes."

He nodded and rushed to pack his most important things, writing a note to his father.

I hurried back to my place, climbing back in my window, thankful my mother didn't notice me this time. I threw on clean clothes and grabbed my stuff frantically before throwing it in a black backpack, then grabbing a sheet of notebook paper, writing a note down.

I met Dan after leaving my car back at my house to avoid suspicions. He was already packed, his face still full of guilt.

We get a cab to the airport, driving right by the woods where cop cars surrounded.

Once we arrived at the airport and hurried onto the plane, I sat next to Dan.

"Attention passengers, we are readying for lift off. Please make sure you are in your seats and you are buckled up. Thank you for choosing us and enjoy the flight!"

I looked at Dan. His leg was bouncing and his fingers were tapping, his breathing uneven. His eyes were watery, tears threatening to spill. I felt the plane engine start, and reached down to link my fingers with his. The plane began moving.

"Trust me on this." He looked at our hands, then the window, then finally locked eyes with me. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he whispered,

"I trust you."

The plane began to fly away, marking the end of our past, and the beginning of a new future. This would mark the ending of all the bloodshed, weapons, tears, and the dead bodies left on our trail.

Or so we thought, because the truth is: stains never wash out.

fin