*Trigger warning violence, abuse, and suicide*

Dallons pov:

I picked up the exact-o knife. I am never going to make it out of here alive. A tear rolls down my cheek hoping Brendon never finds me and sees me like this. I slide the blade open and rest it on my wrist. I push down with all the strength I have left in me and tear the knife through my skin. It doesn't even hurt. As I feel the warmth of the blood drip down my wrist, I lift the knife to a new fresh part of my skin. Cutting my wrist deeper and deeper as I go, this pain is numbing. I start seeing images of Brendon in my head. From the day we first met, to him getting down on one knee purposing to me in front of all those people. In this venue will be the happiest day of my life and the last. I lift the knife again. Blood covers my hand holding the knife. I grip it tighter so that it doesn't slip out of my hand. As I start to make the next cut everything goes white. I drop the knife. Ryan walks towards me. His yells sounding like a soft whisper. His hand collides with my face. Instead of the normal sting, it feels soft. He takes the exact-o knife from behind me. As I slowly start drifting towards the light I can make out more then one figure. Ryan's not alone. Suddenly there's only one figure in the room. I can recognize who it is just by the gentle touch of his hand against my skin. It's Brendon. I hear him tell me, he loves me. He's holding my hand. I can feel a tear drop on my hand as it falls stiff to the floor. My ears start to ring. I feel as though I'm floating. Then things go dark.

Brendons pov:

The FBI storms through the arena telling everyone to put their hands behind their back and lay on the ground. Ryan works in the mechanical room, in the basement. The FBI kicks open the door to find Ryan beating a lifeless Dallon to death. The FBI pull him away to arrest him. I'm crying from the sight I see. Dallon's bleeding from his shoulder where he got shot, his wrist is covered in blood and so is the ground. It looks like he was starved to death. He's more bones than skin. His face and body are covered in cuts and bruises from the beating. I can barely look at him it breaks my heart. I grab his frail and fragile hand and hold it into mine. I tell him I love him, when all of a sudden his hand falls to the ground. The ambulance rush him away. I know he heard what I said.

I hope he doesn't leave me. I don't know how I'd be able to live without him.