Bel always looked forward to when school ended. Not because he hated school and wished he could just stop going – though that part was true; he did resent that fancy prison with all his being – but because as soon as the bell rang, he could pack up his things and make his way over to his best friend's home until night fell and he would have no choice but to go back to his own home before he missed curfew.

The boy hummed as he walked through the dodgy neighbouring streets, knowing how likely he was to be attacked in these areas, but at the same time he was uncaring; half of him almost wanted for someone to come at him, to hurt him and abuse him and leave his lifeless body in a ditch somewhere because he was too much of a coward to finish the job himself. However, the other half of him wanted to be left alone since he received enough abuse from his parents.

"What are you looking at?" Bel sneered at the male teenager in one of the front yards. His hands clenched within the pockets of his jacket, and he started to shake from the adrenaline rush in his body; he could so easily walk over there himself and throw the first punch, but to his disappointment, the other went back into the house without saying a word.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. Bel could feel the withdrawal effects from his medication kicking in already; it had only been a few days since he had last taken a pill, too… The cold wind blew hard, and it lifted up the boy's shirt high enough to reveal cuts and bruises littered along the pale flesh. His sleeves pulled back from the gale, showing wrists scarred from deep gashes that would never disappear completely. If anyone where there to see, Bel was certain they would be sickened.

The sky rumbled with the onset of thunder as Bel turned to walk down the pathway leading to his best friend's front door. He shivered as the first drops of rain fell on him, so he was thankful that he was seconds away from shelter. The steps of the veranda creaked under his weight as he climbed them, and he didn't stop to knock on the door; he instead grabbed the handle and tried to open it. To his surprise, however, it was locked, but the other was definitely here because their car was still parked in the driveway.

"Mammon?" Bel walked over to the window to peer into the living room, but he still couldn't see anyone. In his gut, he knew something was wrong because this wasn't normal; the door should be unlocked and his friend would be waiting for him in the living room like always.

The blond sighed. He walked around to the gate to the backyard and undid the catch so that he could enter through the back door. He found within seconds that the door was unlocked and he could get inside, but as soon as his feet stepped onto the linoleum, he felt uncomfortable due to the unusual darkness within the house. The atmosphere of the house was cold, foreboding… As if he weren't welcome here today.

"Mammon?" Bel walked through the back corridor so that he could get further inside. He stepped through the threshold that would lead him into the corridor where the bedrooms were, but there was still no sign of his friend anywhere. "Mammon? Where are y -?"

The student looked down as he heard something squelch beneath his shoes. He frowned as he realised he was standing in a puddle of blood, and his stomach did flips when he saw a trail leading to the other's bedroom. He followed it, despite knowing in his gut that he was going to find something that would forever haunt him. "Mammon…?"

There was movement in the bedroom, Bel could hear. He hurried his pace to see what was going on, but as soon as he stepped into the doorway, he froze; there before him was his best friend, with blood flowing down her arms and onto the floor beneath them as empty pill bottles littered the floor. In one hand was a gun pointed directly to her temple, and the blond could think nothing except that the world had surely frozen because nothing – not even him – was moving.

There was eye contact between them. Bel didn't know how long for; all he knew was that they were staring at each other, acknowledging that there was someone else with them, but not a word was spoken between them.

It was when Bel realised the severity of the situation did he finally break out of his trance. In the smallest whisper he could muster, he uttered his friend's name. "Mammon…"

The deafening crack that threatened to burst Bel's ear drums filled the room, and he hoped to god – oh, fucking please god – that it was only the thunder, but the blood that had sprayed all over his face and clothes crushed his hopes and the cold reality of what had just happened hit him like a speeding cement truck.

Bel couldn't move; he could only stand there and stare at the lifeless body on the ground as he felt hot blood slowly drip down his face and onto his favourite white boots. He would have to wash those, he knew, but how did one remove the essence of death?

The roaring of thunder above him was like a constant reminder of what he had just witnessed, but even so, he couldn't quite bring himself to cry; he felt numb, the most he could feel was that of nausea, as if he needed to throw up but couldn't. The image of the walls splattered in blood was carved into his mind, and it seemed that even though he was blinking, he could still see the red even through closed eyes.

Maybe he should take a shower? Or better yet, he could burn his school uniform in the fireplace and scald off his skin under steaming hot water to remove the blood. He wondered if that would stop him from feeling the hot liquid all over him, but part of him doubted it would be very helpful; he would go home and cut his wrists like he always did and drug himself into oblivion with the strongest sleeping pills he had been able to acquire, but deep down, he knew he would never be able to get this out of his mind; it would be there, lurking in the deepest recesses waiting to strike like a tiger stalking its prey.

The room was almost dark from the grey skies and lack of lighting inside, but still, Bel couldn't move, not even when he heard approaching sirens and eventually the flashing of lights on the kerb outside. He was still frozen when he heard the front door being knocked down, and even when, however long later, people in uniforms flooded the room, he couldn't move; he could only stand there and stare as the body of his best friend was covered over with a white sheet.

"Let's get you out of here, sweetheart."

Bel could barely feel the hand on his shoulder, and the words that were spoken right beside him seemed almost like a near-inaudible whisper. He must have stood there for a century by now, but he didn't feel any older; he only felt sicker than he ever had in his life.

"He's in shock. Someone get him a blanket."

The boy didn't react in the slightest as a blanket was draped over his shoulders and wrapped his body. Someone grabbed his hand and tugged at him, and even though he wasn't conscious of it, his feet moved involuntarily, and he was led out of the house and to a waiting ambulance. He sat on the stretcher when he was guided onto it, and even though he knew he was no longer in that room that was full of the stench of death, no matter where he looked, all he could see was blood rolling down the walls as if they themselves were bleeding, and the dark, motionless figure of his best friend by his feet.

There was movement all around him, people touching him with their gloved hands and instruments, but he couldn't focus on any of it; his mind was taken over by instant replays of what had happened inside that house, and never before had he felt as empty as he did right now.

Part of him wished his best friend had told him she was going to commit suicide because at least then, maybe she would have been willing to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger for him first so he didn't have to fucking live anymore.

But Mammon always had been selfish and greedy, and it was no surprise she had done this without consulting Bel first in order to leave him alone to pick up the pieces.