rise up above it (Zachary)

[Deleted]

"I don't want the fame. It isn't about that. You know who else likes to be noticed? Children!"

Fourteen. Twelve girls, one boy, one teacher. They were all dead. Not to mention the others that he hurt. He had been cut short, because that girl recognized him. It didn't matter now. She was dead and at the bottom of the lake. Jack was exhausted. The teenager had spent hours on that massacre. And then he fought his way through the storm to get away and kill the girl that tried to yell his name out. When he got home, while everyone else was picking up the pieces that he had left scattered all over the blood-stained gym floor, Jack slept. He went in his room and crashed.

When he finally woke up, the sun was slowly setting. His window had been open, and the air that crept in was chilled. Jack shivered and made his way outside, taking in a deep breath. He loved the smell of the air after a storm. Jack still felt physically tired, and he knew that the dance was much bigger than the classroom back in Sydney. It was enough to prove that he was not, in fact, a child.

Delilah perplexed him. Why hadn't he been able to take her life? Why hadn't he even been able to hurt her? She was the only person in the gym who remained completely unharmed. He had grabbed her, put a knife to her throat...and did nothing. He couldn't bring herself to do anything to her. He actually wanted her to be okay. Jack had never felt that way, about anyone.

He sat on the porch, feeling too weak to do much more than that. His heart had finally stopped racing. The adrenaline rush that he got from the attack was gone. And now that he was out of the craziness, away from the screams, away from the tears and the begging, Zachary was on his mind.

"I don't want the fame. It isn't about that. You know who else likes to be noticed? Children!"

Half of him was disappointed that Zachary had not been in the gym. And the other half was relieved. Because he hated him, hated him. But could he really kill him? He had the physical strength...but could he? Jack didn't have a whole lot of morals. He wasn't a god damned christian. But if he was faced with that kind of decision, with that kind of situation, he didn't know if he would kill him

God damnit, Jack. Stop thinking about him He had to block out thoughts of Zachary, or he'd lose his mind. He didn't need to go crazy. Zachary was the crazy one. Not him. Jack stood, went in the house, grabbed his shoes, and went back out. He was going to go for a walk. As tired as he was, he needed the air. As he straightened up, though he he had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't alone.

"I know you're there. Probably behind the tree, mate. Come on out" he had no idea who it was. Actually, he figured it was Natasha or something. She liked to do that to him. But he didn't need to be spied on. He wanted to see who it is and see what the hell they wanted.

[Zachary Briar]

It was funny what a little blood could do. Not once, while Zachary stared on at the dance had his schizophrenia exhibited signs of being out of control. His voice, albeit not silent, had been extraordinarily weak. Only a reminder now and then and nothing biting or sharp about it. Zach had focused in and watched as fourteen people were slaughtered. He couldn't have saved them if he wished. And he never tried. It was sick and it should have made anyone's stomach churn and it had done that for him; certainly it had. Though, it also forced him to imagine what it would be like to turn that knife around on Jack, to make him suffer in the way he made his victims suffer. But, Zach couldn't make that leap. Not only did he not fit his model, and thus hard for him to venture to, but for some reason, unbeknownst to him, he couldn't consider slicing him up. If he crossed him, crossed him enough, he could let his throat meet his knife. But, Zachary was smarter than to get himself caught by offing the other killer.

He'd followed him afterwards, observing quietly and all the while wondering if he'd ever notice him. And when he finally came out and did, Zach couldn't help but smirk to himself, slowly coming out from behind the tree. "Fourteen." He said out loud, voice calm and relaxed. He felt powerful here. And it was probably the most lucid he'd been since he first met Jack. There was something to be said about the gruesome site that appealed to that darkness in him. Perhaps it was relating, but he wasn't going to tag on labels or think too difficulty on it. Most of the time, he couldn't anyway. It was amazing to feel that way, however. Given that the voice had been getting progressively worse, he was suffering headaches more often than not, and his illness felt amplified most of the time. He wasn't sure when he ate last, but he felt none of those effects. He walked closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

"I'd like to say I'm impressed, Amery. " Zachary began, but there was already a touch of mockery to his tone. "But, it's like patting a five year old on the back for throwing paint all over the wall. I mean, it's like I don't want to stifle the poor kid's artistic nature, but throwing paint all over however colourful is still... a mess." He explained with a chuckle. "And what happened back there anyway? I was sure fourteen was going to be fifteen."

[Deleted]

Zachary. Jack wondered for a moment whether it was his dwelling on the other boy that made him materialize right in front of him. He knew it was ridiculous to assume, and impossible. But he would have been more surprised if it hadn't been Zachary. When he gave the number, Jack shrugged. Part of him reasoned that he must have been watching the news. But he doubted if even the police knew his exact count just yet. As he went on about him making a mess, he chuckled.

"You're looking at the wrong thing, Zachy. The blood isn't the art for me" he said simply. But his mind was boggled. How in the hell did he know all this? He hadn't even been there! And then he asked what happened, and Jack was stupefied. He talked like he had...seen. But how was that possible? Jack mentally replayed what had happened. He had changed clothes in the restroom. He had collected his things. He had locked the doors, hadn't he? Wait, yes. Yes, he did. It was what made them run. So then how had he seen?

And what did he mean what happened? Was he talking about the girl he had dragged off to kill? He thought that was obvious. "Ja--" that was what had escaped her mouth before he grabbed her. Or Delilah? He couldn't even make sense out of that one. He couldn't tell him, honestly. Instead of answering, his eyes flickered "I don't know what you mean"

[Zachary Briar]

Zach rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “It’s called a metaphor.” He explained, and took a step closer. It didn’t matter that the other male was bigger than him or that he had just finished slaughtering so many. He wasn’t afraid of him. And it was a moment where Zach’s insecurities weren’t the most powerful. Oh, they were always there. But, right now, he showed himself as confident; the way that killing sometimes made him. But, it wasn’t his killing. “Nothing’s artistic for you. Or exceptional. You’re hardly even smart. Just a bigheaded jock named Jack. A lot of charm and not much else. But, it’s better than being scared little Amery, isn’t it?” He asked, mockingly. He shook his head at him again, laughing under his breath quietly.

“You don’t? You couldn’t kill one of them; a girl. Delilah, right?” He asked, because he paid attention to Jack’s movements. He knew who his friends were, who the people he was closest with. Some of it had to do with his own paranoia, and the other, a keen interest and disgust in what he did. Like watching a train wreck, one that apparently made him feel a hell of a lot better about himself.

[Deleted]

"Is that what you think you're doing, mate? Being metaphorical?" with a scoff, he shook his head, leaning against the tree. He listened to him rant about he wasn't artistic, or even smart and put a hand to his chest "That hurts". His sarcasm was followed by a chuckle. "Oh, I'm scared? I'm not the one with a voice in my head telling me what to do. I can do as I please, because I'm not looking for approval from something that isn't even real. You're sick and twisted and crazy. And you dare call who I was scared? Amery was a genius. He could do anything without being caught. The only reason he isn't here is because he wasn't careful enough. I learned from that" why was he telling him this? Zachary didn't need to know why Amery no longer existed. And yet, here he was, giving out the information.

The very second Delilah was mentioned, though, Jack's whole personage changed. He could feel his cheeks grow hot from anger. Clenching his fist, he threw a punch at a nearby mailbox, ingeniously knicking his knuckles and making his hand bleed. Wincing slightly at the throbbing pain that suddenly overtook his hand, the teenager held his hand and glared at Zachary. Breathing through his nose, he went silent before speaking up.

"You do not talk about Delilah. Don't even say her name." his words were pressed. Had it been anyone else, Jack wouldn't have cared. But for some reason, Delilah was different. And honestly, Jack didn't understand it himself. When he first spoke to her, first asked her out, he was only doing it for appearances' sake. After all, everyone expected the jocks to have a pretty face hanging on their arm. Delilah would have filled that void, made his new life complete. But somehow, she turned into so much more than that. He had planned on killing everyone in that gym, and honestly, had he known she was in there, he would have waited to finish locking the doors until she was out. He had been sad when he first realized she was in there, but figured she was fun while she lasted. But he couldn't kill her. And because he couldn't, he would make sure nobody else did, either. And that included creeps like Zach. "I don't even want to see you looking at her" Now, that might have been a bit much. But did Jack care? Of course not. He was protecting her. He actually cared about someone, and he was going to make sure Zachary left her alone.

[Zachary Briar]

"Brilliant? Try pathetic." Zachary remarked. "Are you so much better, Jack? How long before they catch you too? You might have a new face, but they'll put two and two together eventually. They'll hang you, because you're reckless and messy." Zachary wasn't going to offer compliments to him here. That was the very last thing on his mind. There was a dark chuckle, however, at the mention of him being crazy and he tapped the side of his own head. "It's funny, it's all quiet right now." He was more lucid than he often was. It wasn't a state that he was used to in the least. He was used to the constant driving voice, spiteful and critical. But, tonight, he felt calm. In some sick way, he may have had Jack to thank for that. It was the reaction that Delilah caused that turned Zachary's expression even more interested. He couldn't help the mischief that seemed to crawl onto his face. Now, wouldn't it be interesting if she just disappeared. Jack had no problem making others disappear, why not make him lose something even he couldn't kill?

The problem came in her type. She wasn't Zachary's type in the least. He had a pattern and was particular and that would break it. But, he could give her a little scare, push her away and make sure that little Amery didn't have what he wanted. "Did I hit a nerve? Is she special-- Delilah?" He asked, and even took a step closer, daring. "I'll look at her. You can't stop me. Might even see parts of her you can't bring yourself to." There was a darkness in that comment, because it was very clearly a threat on her life. If Jack couldn't kill her then maybe Zachary would have to just to prove a point. Now, he knew that it would be easier said than done. But he wasn't really making any sort of plot or scheme in the back of his mind. This was all for Jack's benefit.

[Deleted]

Jack glared at him. It was true, Amery's mess had been the sole reason he ended up killing his mother. His dad, he never cared about, but his mother? He had cared about her. He had never wanted to kill her. Her imploring eyes reminded him every night when he opened up the deep freezer that he was responsible for her death. But not anymore. He had gotten rid of the bodies, forced the girl to scatter the pieces in the river with her bare hands before he killed her himself. Still, he knew how reckless he had been with that first attack on the class he had done. But he had grown past it, he had learned. He was better. "They'ren ot going to catch me. They'd have to have evidence or a survivor. And the few girls who survived, they don't know what I look like. To them, I'm just a mask" he assured him. Why he felt the need to explain himself, he had no idea. But for some reason, he did. When he started talking about Delilah though, Jack grabbed Zach and pushed him against the wall of the house.

"You don't want to do that. Not when I happen to know a girl named Cassidy who would look very good in oh, say, twenty pieces or so." He made the threat with pressed words, glaring in his eyes. "And it just so happens that she likes me, mate." If he was going to threaten Delilah, then Jack had no qualms with threatening Cassidy. "Like it or not, mate, you're not in control here." And he was? Jack was starting to become paranoid. He wasn't exactly in his calmest state of mind.