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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Pain. Everything was pain.

Yeah, that... that whatever-it-was that just clocked him in the head hurt pretty damn good, and his gut felt like it was going to weaken at the seams and spill open like a paper bag full of chilli, but the agony that Brook felt himself becoming immersed in hurt from his head down to his toes, inside and outside. His desire to see Jason dead in front of him, contorted into some humorously ironic position and killed in a disgraceful manner ran so deep that it hurt, as did the memory of why he was doing all of this in the first place.

That, or the fact he was beginning to lose that memory in the first place.

Tiffany... he killed her.

Yes, it was that simple. Jason had killed Tiffany, but any other detail of that day escaped Brook's mind the moment he tried to focus on it. If anything positive had happened, the negative had shoved it aside. The love held for Tiffany... the love he held for Jason as the man he always wanted beside him in school, maybe college, maybe even as his best man... both washed away with hate and some pathetic imitation... a pathetic mockery of 'dedication'. Everything had been lost in blood.

But if that was the way it was going to be, it wasn't going to stop until Jason finally lay at Brook's feet, his throat crushed by a single stomp from his boot. This wasn't for Tiffany anymore, but for himself. This was his fault.

His fault. His fault. Why won't my body move? It's just blood, it's just pain, it's just...


"So, uh..."

"Dude, eyes on the road."

"Right, right. I'm just wondering if... you know, she'll like the flowers!"

"She? I thought you said you were getting this for the store."

"... That's what I meant. The owner of the store. Not the nursery, but the boutique at the mall. I'm just wondering if she'll like the heather more than the stuff I usually bring her."

"She better, I think I broke my arm just getting it!"


"Right. 'Ey, mate, there's no blood... see? So don't worry about it. Just... eyes on the road, we'll get this taken care of."

"S-sure, sure. I was just checking, y'know? This... uh, it's my boss's car. Can't have... uh... blood... all over it."

"Ha, I guess not..."

"... Hey, Jason?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Thanks for coming."

"Yeah. Lot of help I was, right?"

"No, really. Thank you for coming. It... um... showed me you really cared about all of this."

"You're my friend, Brook. What are buds for?"

Brook stumbled towards Jason, arms outstretched. Nothing would be more personal than this moment. Even without weapons, all it took was a pair of hands to squeeze that throat, juuuust above the collar. The only distactions were the world of pain that inhabited his body, and a large amount of wetness on his forehead.

He told himself it was sweat time and time again as he continued to attempt his assault. Jason's arms had come up, letting go of whatever he had in his hand. Whatever it was, it was the thing that had been raked across Brook's forehead. None of that mattered right now anyhow. Just Jason's throat, a pipeline of life that two thumbs pressing against could disconnect ever so easily, provided they could get by the defending arms... that was all that mattered.

The rest of the world closed off from Brook, and it became just him and Jason. His muscles worked with every fiber of their being to accomplish a goal that, while it surrounded them both in body, it had all but been lost to Brook's mind, washed away in crimson tides just like everything else. This cause may have been a hollow one, but there was nothing else he could do. His eyes remained locked on Jason's, even when the smaller boy's attempts to keep the hands from his throat started to prevail.

No... wait, come on...

His glare of victory became one of gaze and shock, unable to interpret what Jason's eyes were saying anymore. That had become lost to Brook, and that scared him more than anything. It frightened him just a little bit more than...

The blood washed down from the gash that he pretended wasn't in his forehead, and the image of Jason Harris turned red... then black.


This... is my...

He could ignore it no longer. Blood meant pain, and injury and death. This game was all death, and despair, and misery leading up to the aforementioned death. Brook had plenty of time to cry about it earlier... he remembered all of that from his first waking moments in this hellhole. And then, almost seconds later in his memory, the first hard evidence of life's fragility fell in front of his very eyes. He couldn't even catch her before she hit the mud.

That was what blood meant... one day your time would be up, and your life would be over. The only way to overcome such an omen was to embrace it. And so Brook washed himself in blood. So much blood... he had lost track of what was who's, who's was where, and made excuses for it existing. He kept it with him to the degree where its meaning became archaic, a disgusting plaything rather than a message. The threat of his own demise became the actuality of everybody else's.

Until now.

He let out a shrill cry just as Jason broke the hold, and then disappeared into the blackness.

"No, no! Come here! Jason... where did you go!? You motherfucker, it... I can't let it... no... no!" Panic filled every spot in Brook's soul that wasn't already stuffed with hatred, and from there it began to consume everything. He screamed more, maybe at Jason or maybe at himself, but the words became slurred until they held no meaning, even to him. There was a new wetness around his eyes, impossible to distinquish as tears mixed with blood.

He turned, grasping for a tree, or another person, or anything that might prove he was still alive and where he had been seconds before. But he knew where he was, even without seeing it. A nightmare of his own creation pulled him down, draining him of his strength and his ability to cling to the will that still wished to live. Fear beat it all, and dragged Brook to his knees.

Then he turned, and his back was met with cool grass.

No... oh god, please, no...
Not after everything I...
I... what did I do..?

To come to terms with the monster you are had never been easy, but it was just as painful and brutal a truth as the blood that stung his eyes and robbed him of his vision. Brook had blinded himself in his rage, but he saw things better than he had for the past seven days or more... he saw himself for what he had become, and the garden...

Fear's icy fist clenched his heart.

"J.. Jason... please..."
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