It wasn't supposed to end this way.

Some would say my day started with the my alarm clock, the morning beating. I would
throw on some clothes as fast as I could and hastily comb my hair before grabbing my pack and
stumbling out the door, followed by insults and cursing. Randy was never happy about his
hangover. Dodging the bottle he tossed after me had become part of the daily grind.
However, that was merely the start of my routine; my day started with the walk to the bus
stop.
A little over a mile of a winding forest path rested between the bus and myself. The dawn
sun was perched atop the treetops, although the sky was still a neutral gray color. Morning fog
lingered across the mountain peaks in the distance, and light reflecting off their snowy caps was
refracted into a dazzling chromatic display across the horizon. It was this view that motivated me
to get up every morning.
That view and Regan, of course. Regan was always the only person I truly connected
with since I moved here. My one true friend. I guess we all have that one person we can share
anything with, sure, but it went even deeper for us in a way that neither of us could hope to
describe.
She was beautiful, too. Tall, but with a light complexion. Her pale skin held an infinitely
more captivating brilliance than one of those fake orange tans. Cloudy grey eyes contrasted with
piercing determination from her skin, blending into her equally dark hair. Even her words had a
certain degree of elegance and mystery to them; she seemed to carefully plan her sentences in her
head before speaking her mind.
Everyone says that teenagers have a warped concept of love, but when I say I loved
Regan, I mean every word. So we started as friends, sure, but of course we wound up dating. It
had taken a year and a half for Sage to find out.
Sage was Regan's sister; they were identical twins, their only difference being a small
scar running across the side of Regan's neck. The two came from very wealthy parents, and as
soon as it was revealed that their daughter was dating the standard "trailer trash", action was
taken to keep us apart. Hypocritical, really, when one considers that the last few generations of
the family had just been riding off inheritance money left by their harder-working predecessors.
That was going to change soon. After nearly four months of covert planning, we had
managed to lay out a means of escaping all of it. She would be away from her family's restrictive
word, I would be away from Randy and his breath laced with alcohol, and the two of us would
have each other. Word for word, it was your typical escapist fantasy between two high-school
sweethearts.
Only we would have more than each other to rely on. Regan's parents were out of town
for the weekend, but they were foolish enough to leave an extravagant amount of money for their
two daughters to spoil themselves on. Regan would get us enough money to live off of for at
least half a years' time.
Randy, on the other hand, had a truck. I could count on him being in a drunken stupor by
eight o'clock at the latest, usually not waking until the single hours of the morning. This would
give Regan and me ample time to grab the keys and get out of the city limits before he even
opened his eyes and regurgitated the previous night's TV dinner. We would be free at last.
The bus pulled to a stop and I stepped out, taking one last breath of the morning air
before crossing into the school's stench of sweat and sterilization. I made my way to Regan
immediately. She glanced around nervously and delivered a quick kiss, lingering slightly but
briskly pulling away.
"Is everything ready for tonight?" she asked, obviously nervous.
"As ready as it can be," I replied. "Randy is always out cold by ten and he just leaves his
keys on the table."
She seemed to accept this answer, though she had a constant need for reassurance.
I wrapped my arms around her waist. "Hey," I said gently, "it'll be fine, don't worry about
it. Besides, if something goes wrong, I'm the only one who could get in any trouble for it. Your
parents actually like you." I laughed and leaned in for a kiss.
Regan hastily stepped out of my grasp and turned away. Sage passed by, slowing her
pace to stop and stare at the two of us before continuing down the hall. She had all her sister's
beauty with none of the personality. She was as dirty as they come; it was her fault that Regan
and I were in this situation in the first place.
"I should go," I murmured. Regan nodded, a melancholy look of uncertainty plastered
across her face, and I stepped past her into the routine of lectures and government-erected
curriculum.
After I saw Regan, school passed by in an instant. All my days seemed to blend together,
the speed and uncertainty stopped only by time spent with her. Some people say they live for the
weekends, but I lived for those haunting mornings. All the time surrounding those moments slid
by and I waited as best as I could.
Mere seconds had seemed to pass from our last kiss, but the school day had already
ended and I was back home. I stayed outside as often as possible to avoid Randy. As a result, I
had learned to take in the small details of Earth's beauty; the way grass swayed in the wind, the
way a cloud gently drifted across the horizon.
The sun sank below the horizon and stars began to dot the sky. It was time to get ready.
I headed back into the trailer, stepping lightly. I peeked into the living room to find
Randy laying in his chair, a thin thread of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth onto the
rebel flag plastered across his t-shirt. His eyes were firmly shut, seemingly oblivious to the
Skinemax flickering on the television across from him.
The keys were on top of the refrigerator. I stepped across the wasteland of empty bottles
into the kitchen and my fingers explored across the top of the fridge. I felt metal and a light
jangling was heard; I slid the keys into my hand, grasping them firmly to keep them from making
noise. Now I had to wait for Regan to do her part.
I stood directly behind Randy - sitting there with a beer bottle still in his hand - and stared
at the wall, pondering our escape. These keys were sharp, they could rip through his jugular in
seconds. I smiled at the thought of Randy scrambling across the floor, slipping in his own blood
and gurgling his last breaths. Would he even be sober enough to realize what had happened? Did
he have any contacts close enough to even-
A knock at the door. Randy stirred. The beer bottle slipped out of his grasp and smashed
across the hardwood. At the sudden noise, his eyes shot open.
"Who the fuck's at our door this time of night?" he grumbled, still getting his bearings.
I grabbed a shard of glass off of the floor and jammed it into his arm; hopefully that
would give us the time to escape. There was no time to waste.
I threw open the front door to find Regan standing there, a look of bewilderment on her
face. "You weren't supposed to knock," I murmured, trying to sound at ease yet unable to mask
my panic.
"Boy, I'm gonna beat your ass!" Randy called from inside. "You ain't got nowhere to
hide, so you best hope you got some fast fuckin' legs!" A crash from within as he stumbled. He
was rummaging around for something.
I threw open the door to the truck and turned the engine on before quickly shoving the
gearshift into reverse. Where had Regan gone? I flicked on the hi-beams and saw her crouching
against the side wall of the trailer.
"Get in the truck!" I yelled, "Come on, we don't have much ti-"
A loud crack followed by shattering glass. Randy stood at the doorway, his trusty 12-
gauge in his hands. The spent cartridge ejected across the top and clattered across the ground as
he cocked another round into the chamber. He raised it up again, aiming directly at me, this time
with no windshield to protect me from the buckshot.
Regan dashed across his flank, sprinting for the truck. He quickly turned his aim and
fired. She cried out and stumbled forward; he had hit her in the legs. Momentum carried her on
and her head slammed into the hood of the truck with a dense clang before she crumpled to the
ground.
"Who the fuck you got here, boy?" he grinned. "She's a pretty little thing." He nudged her
with the barrel of the gun. "Bet she's got somethin' real nice for me between them legs," he
laughed.
I threw open the door of the truck and rushed over, tackling him from behind. My weight
was nothing compared to his mass; with a light shrug of his shoulders, I was suddenly on the
ground. Randy towered over me, the shotgun grasped firmly in his hands. A red trickling from
behind him suddenly caught my attention.
Regan lay in the background, her legs badly mutilated and a deep gash running across the
side of her head. Her skin had turned a sick yellow color around the wounds and her hair was in
a tangled mass of knots and blood. I shifted forward and retched; Randy laughed.
The shotgun's stock cracked into my face and I collapsed into darkness.
I awoke to find Randy leaning against the exterior of the trailer. He held a cigarette in his
left hand, the shotgun in his right. With each deep drag of smoke, he would give me a brief smirk
before blowing the excess out of his nose. We stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity,
him giving me that look of superiority as I sat motionless on the ground, blood and dirt painted
across my face.
Finally, he spoke. "Get up."
 Watching the gun warily, I did as I was told. He flicked the remainder of his cigarette
into the grass and bent over before picking up a shovel.
"Take this," he growled as he tossed it over to me, "and don't you try shit with that thing
but what I tell you to do. Now come over here."
I followed him to the other side of the trailer. One end was tilted several feet off the
ground, held in place by a stump of wood at one end.
"Now you get down there and dig, and don't you stop until I tell you to stop."
I crouched down and peered into the darkness underneath the trailer. There was already a
large dip in the ground, enough room to stand if you hunched your back. I slid under and began
to dig, expanding on the hole that was already there.
It was by no means a pleasant experience. Broken glass was scattered across the ground
and an unknown assortment of nocturnal insects had made their home mere inches above my
head. I dug deeper into the earth, gradually forming a massive pit under our trailer. All the while,
Randy stood at the edge, peering down at me, tossing his cigarette butts into the hole to spark at
my feet.
After at least an hour of nonstop digging, Randy crouched down and nodded with
satisfaction. "Get out," he grunted. Slowly, I crawled out of the hole. "Now put her in." He
gestured to the far side of the trailer and Regan was laying on the ground, bloodied and beaten
and... dead.
How could I have forgotten about her? Maybe I already knew and was just blocking out
the thought until now. I gave a second glance over. Her legs were almost nonexistent and a
massive gash ran across her head. Her entire outfit was filthy and covered in blood.
Randy laughed. "She was great, I hope you got some of that before me because you
definitely would have missed out."
I stared back over and noticed her shirt ripped open, pants still unzipped. Randy cackled.
"Fuck you gonna do, boy? I got this here gun and you ain't got shit, but that hole's big enough for
two."
Silently, I approached her body and gently lifted it, brushing a small strand of hair away
from her face. I turned and solemnly proceeded to the grave. My love's final resting spot, four
feet underneath our trailer in the middle of the woods. I looked down at her eyes, peacefully shut.
Other than the head wound, her face had remained miraculously unharmed.
I reached the tilted home and bent down to slide her into the hole. Randy leaned forward
and shoved me against the wall. Regan slipped out of my hands and tumbled under into the
mound. I whirled around and glared at Randy, who was still looming over me, laughing his
rotten breath into my face.
"Move over," he grunted, "I gotta piss." He leered at me, showing his rotten teeth.
I stood my ground. He had killed Regan and abused her body, I was not going to let him
defile her grave.
Randy took a long drag from his latest cigarette before blowing the smoke into my face.
He jammed the lit end into the center of my chest. I winced but stood still, unmoving as he
twisted it deeper. His head pushed its way through the smoke.
 "Boy, I told you to fuckin' move."
The shovel was clenched tightly in my hands. His hazy eyes tried with futility to pierce
into mine. He was about to find out my limit.
"Don't make me tell you ag-"
I jammed the handle of the shovel into his stomach, pushing him back. He lurched
forward, trying to aim the shotgun at me, but I quickly pushed it away with the blunt end of the
shovel before jamming the sharp end into his jaw. It unhinged with a loud crack and his weapon
fired as he clenched his fist in pain.
Randy mumbled something, unable to form words with his jaw hanging askew. He
dropped his cigarette onto the grass and moved to cock the shotgun. I charged at him but he
dodged to one side, smashing the side of his weapon across my back. I stumbled to the ground
and cringed as the gun reloaded.
He turned to face me, stumbling and gargling as he choked down excess blood from his
broken jaw. He wanted to execute me at close range. I threw the shovel like a spear, and its point
ripped into his shin. He cried out and stumbled to the ground, dropping his shotgun. I leapt on
top of him, but quickly found my throat in his grasp. He was choking me.
I clutched his jaw, viciously tugging on it in a futile attempt to free myself. My air supply
dwindled; he squeezed harder. A flickering to the right of his head caught my attention. My hand
fumbled around the ground; my vision was fading. I would lose consciousness soon. I held up
the glimmering item in my hand: Randy's cigarette. With unexpected accuracy, I jammed the
glowing object into his right eye.
He cried out in agony, coughing up a mess of blood as he released my throat from his
grasp and placed his hands over his charred eye. I stood up, gasping for air. My vision restored
its focus and I looked up to see Randy lurching across the yard to his shotgun. I snatched my
shovel off the ground and bolted at him, ducking under his sluggish swing and jamming the end
of the shovel into his stomach several times.
Randy fell down, moaning, with one hand clutching his bleeding abdomen. His other was
scrambling rapidly, trying to get a grasp on the gun. I watched patiently as he slithered to it,
finally getting a grasp on the stock. He fumbled, found the trigger. As he moved to raise it to me
and fire, I brought the shovel down on his arm like an axe. Randy screamed as it sliced into his
arm and cracked the bone.
One swing wouldn't do it. He still made an effort to hold up the gun, his forearm bending
down under its weight. I bashed it down to the ground again and drove the point of the shovel
into the bleeding mass. Randy attempted to scream but instead found himself choking on blood. I
picked up his shotgun and tossed it under the trailer, where Regan's body lay.
"Go get it!" I taunted.
He stared at me uncertainly, unmoving.
"I said go get it!" I shouted, bringing the blade of the shovel down against his already-
wounded shin.
Randy cried out and then began to crawl to the pit, perhaps under the delusion that he
may still win or perhaps out of fear that I may continue with the impromptu amputations if he
stayed at his current location. I playfully jammed the shovel down, inches from his feet, as he
slowly snaked his way across the lawn.
He reached the pit and tried to shuffle down, but I grabbed his good leg and pulled him
back up.
"You're staying here," I murmured.
Turning the shovel's blade parallel to his calf, I jammed it all the way through, pinning
him to the ground. His head and torso were underneath the trailer, but his waist and legs
remained outside. I leisurely and deliberately paced over to the block of wood on which the
trailer rested.
Randy's eye widened as he realized what was about to happen. He cried out in protest as I
squatted down and grabbed the stump, pulling gently. Randy shook his head, slinging blood out
of his mouth in a grotesque rain.
"Only thing I regret about this," I shouted at him, "is that you'll be down there with her!"
I pulled on the stump and it shifted out from under the trailer. It came crashing down on
top of Randy, whose legs began to thrash about wildly. Bit by bit, the seizures stopped. Randy
was dead. My dad was dead. But more importantly, Regan was dead.
Randy was her killer, but he was not to blame. It was Sage. It had always been Sage. If
she hadn't bothered snooping around in her sister's business, Regan would still be alive and none
of this would have happened. We would have still been happily together, never having to love in
secrecy, never being forced to run away from our troubles.
Now it was her turn.
The truck's keys were still in the ignition. Sage would be home alone, uncaring enough to
even be concerned about her own sister's whereabouts. She was weak and unexpecting, planning
and execution would not be an issue. I headed for the truck before taking one lingering glance
back at the trailer.
Its outer wall was stained with blood from my conflict with Randy. My father and my
only love both lay together in a pit underneath my home. I quickly grabbed a full can of gasoline
from inside, loaded it into the back of the truck. This conflict was not one I wished to return
from; without Regan I was nothing.
Driving to Sage's estate in the high-class side of town proved to be an easy task at this
time of morning. The road's lines rushed by, appearing in the headlights before vanishing just as
suddenly. The moon glared through a gap in the clouds between the mountain peaks, its dull
glow reflecting off their snowy surfaces.
I pulled inside the gates and parked the truck before taking a pack of matches out of the
glove compartment. It would be walking from here. The gas can in one hand, I slowly made the
hike up the winding driveway to Sage's luxurious hilltop residence. Light streamed out of its
windows; the mansion stood proudly, a stoic monolith on the top of the world.
The gas cap fell to the grass silently. I slung the petrol across the walls, lightly coating
the entire perimeter with the flammable solution. Withdrawn from the world, entranced by the
adrenaline and anticipation of the coming events, I struck a match and tossed it against the wall
mansion. The flames quickly circled around the house, engulfing the entire area in a thick, black
curtain.
I waited. Smoke alarms from inside. Screaming. Over the cracking of wood and embers, I
could hear rushed footsteps descending the staircase. She was making a run for the front door,
planning on making an easy escape. I had other plans.
She burst through the doorway, sprinting out ahead of a large ball of smoke. Her rushed
steps carried her down the steps and directly into me. She tried to step back but I had her in my
grasp. Sage stared at me with fear and recognition, silent. Her eyes were like her sisters, serene
and beautiful. She didn't deserve such beauty.
Keeping her held firmly with one hand, I removed the truck's keys from my pocket. Their
serrated forms glistened in the firelight, each one possessing a unique pattern of points and
grooves. Sage quivered as I swung them gently through the air, a shining pendulum of death.
"You got yourself into this situation, you know," I muttered nonchalantly, still swaying
the keys through the air. "If you hadn't started fucking around in business that wasn't yours, and
if your entire snobby lineage hadn't been so concerned with meaningless status, two people
would still be alive right now. My dad had it coming, but Regan? You might have loved her, but
not the way I did. You took everything I had, Sage, all because you were embarrassed by your
sister's means to happiness."
Sage made a move to speak but I shoved her to the ground. She yelped, attempted to flee;
I rushed her side and kicked her between the shoulder blades. Her momentum carried her
forwards, up against the wall. She scraped her arm against the side of the house and stumbled
away clumsily. I grabbed her hair, lingering briefly on its beautiful reflective quality as it
glimmered in the firelight, before jerking her in my direction.
I lashed out with the keys, quick slices on her arms and torso. The keys didn't cut deep
enough to do serious damage, only to draw a small amount of blood, but the scratches left Sage
covered in red stripes and droplets of blood. I shoved her away and her fresh wounds created
small spatters as she slammed against the wall.
She recoiled on to the ground, crawling with futility away from me. I thought of myself,
crawling helplessly away from Randy mere hours before. She made it back to the front steps,
where flames were now licking their way out the door, before I decided to intervene. I delivered
a swift kick to her side and she tumbled over, spat blood from her mouth with a look of defeated
desperation in her eyes.
I stared down at her figure. Despite the inside that I so abhorred, Sage still held Regan's
perfect exterior. The firelight cast a soft glow across her hair, her eyes... the thin scar running
across the side of her neck. Regan's scar.
My knees gave in and I fell to the ground next to her. What had I done? I stared at my
love, my Regan, battered and bloody by my own hands. She looked at me, tears streaming down
her cheeks, and clutched my hand. My vision blurred as I picked her up, gently cradling her head
as I peered into her distant eyes.
"Sage found out I was going to leave," Regan choked. A thin tear of blood rolled down
her chin. "She told me to stay home, said she was going to end all of this with you once and for
all when she found out I was going to run away. I didn't want to call, I thought your dad might
have been asleep and I didn't want to wake him up and start trouble. I'm sorry, I love you, I- I-"
Regan coughed a mess of blood across her chest and convulsed, all her muscles tense,
before collapsing limply across my arms. I held her there, crying softly, stroking the hair of my
dead love. Killed by me, undone by my own hasty passion. Our ticket to freedom waited just
beyond the threshold. I stared into the inferno before stepping into the blaze. The mansion
crumbled around us, and at last we were free.
It wasn't supposed to end this way.