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ROUGH DRAFT! Don't be too harsh...
Ari
10/8/05
Write from the end of the story
Trevor sauntered down the steps toward the body of his lover, crumpled against the bottom stair. The blond raised his bloodied face to Trevor, wincing at his head’s movement, and the man coming closer.
“You shouldn’t have followed me, Alex. That’s your problem, you never listen to me.” He waved a medium-sized, black hand-gun in the air. When he reached the second to the last step and kicked out his foot, which connected with Alex’s chin. Blood sprayed over everything as the blonde’s body fell backwards onto the landing.
Trevor stepped toward Alex, and kneeled beside him, grabbing his blond hair in his fist. He rubbed his stubbly chin and smiled at him. Alex gasped for a breath of air and tried to concentrate on Trevor’s green eyes while the staircase around spun around like a centrifuge. Alex barely felt his hair nearly wrenched out of his skull, but his eyes throbbed, and his chin felt like a split melon.
Trevor jerked Alex’s head forward and then backwards toward the cement as hard as he could, but stopped just before he hit. Alex yelped at the pain in his scalp that time. Trevor laughed and gently laid his lover’s head onto the blood spattered ground as though it were a down pillow. His eyes even softened for a moment, which sent a chill through Alex as violent as if Trevor really had smashed his head into the ground.
He then stretched out beside Alex, pushing the bloody clumps of hair out of Alex’s face. He hugged Alex around his middle and looked up at him like a mischievous schoolboy, propping his chin up on Alex’s aching chest.
“You’re a problem, darling, or so I’ve been told.” He paused to sigh heavily, “The higher-ups made it clear to me that if I didn’t get rid of you, they would. And trust me, my technique is just foreplay compared to them.”
Alex took a shuddering breath and warily looked over at his best friend. “You could have just dumped me.”
Trevor released his hold and flopped back onto his back, “Ha, oh Alex, a kidder till the end.” The turned his face to look over at Alex, who turned his own head to look back at him. “That’s why I love you so much.”
Alex tried to smirk, but his cheeks hurt too much to tense. He stifled a groan as pain washed over him. “You have a fine way of showing it.”
Trevor’s expression sobered, and he looked up at the indentation of the steps above them, “You hurt the ones,” he began to say, then faded off. He absently picked at the gun in his hand.
Alex coughed a laugh, “How cliché of you, Trev.” Trevor sat up, swinging his legs around then sitting cross-legged. Alex closed his eyes against another attack of throbbing pain, and he couldn’t see the far-away look on Trevor’s face.
“You’re better off, believe me.”
Alex opened his eyes, and tried to speak but Trevor slammed one hand over it and pressed the gun to Alex’s forehead.
“I could put you out of your misery. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, huh? Dead instantly, instead of lying here waiting to drown in your own blood.” He removed he hand from Alex’s mouth, “I could do that.” He lowered his face to Alex’s and gently kissed his lover’s chapped lips, the gun still against his head.
Trevor pulled back, and watched Alex for a moment, then stood up and stepped over his body. He went down a step, and tossed a look over his shoulder.
“Too bad I’m not a gentleman.”
Alex slumped his head to the right, and he watched Trevor descend the stairs. His left eye was beginning to swell, and blood and tears burned his right. He repressed a rolling sense of nausea, squeezing his good eye shut against the urge to retch. His breathing slowed and became shallow, and he let a cloud of darkness swathe him.
Alex awoke in a panic. He was conscious, but his eyes wouldn’t open. His legs and torso ached, but his head was entirely numb. He gingerly lifted his left arm and pressed against his left eye. His eye felt wet and meaty, and nerves in his faced spasmed as he poked around. With his right hand, he touched his right eye. It was dry and sticky, so he assumed the blood had dried his eyelid closed. He used his thumb and forefinger to pry his eye open.
Dim lights flickered.
He used his right hand to push himself off the landing floor. He was able to swing his legs onto the step below him and sit with his hands propped on his knees. Before the nausea hit again, he took a few deep breaths and promptly threw up onto the step between his feet.
Without looking at the mess he’d just made, Alex grabbed a hold of the rusty railing to the right of him and hefted himself onto his feet. The sudden drain of blood from his head made him black out for a second; he wavered on his feet, trying not to vomit again.
Ari
10/8/05
Write from the end of the story
Trevor sauntered down the steps toward the body of his lover, crumpled against the bottom stair. The blond raised his bloodied face to Trevor, wincing at his head’s movement, and the man coming closer.
“You shouldn’t have followed me, Alex. That’s your problem, you never listen to me.” He waved a medium-sized, black hand-gun in the air. When he reached the second to the last step and kicked out his foot, which connected with Alex’s chin. Blood sprayed over everything as the blonde’s body fell backwards onto the landing.
Trevor stepped toward Alex, and kneeled beside him, grabbing his blond hair in his fist. He rubbed his stubbly chin and smiled at him. Alex gasped for a breath of air and tried to concentrate on Trevor’s green eyes while the staircase around spun around like a centrifuge. Alex barely felt his hair nearly wrenched out of his skull, but his eyes throbbed, and his chin felt like a split melon.
Trevor jerked Alex’s head forward and then backwards toward the cement as hard as he could, but stopped just before he hit. Alex yelped at the pain in his scalp that time. Trevor laughed and gently laid his lover’s head onto the blood spattered ground as though it were a down pillow. His eyes even softened for a moment, which sent a chill through Alex as violent as if Trevor really had smashed his head into the ground.
He then stretched out beside Alex, pushing the bloody clumps of hair out of Alex’s face. He hugged Alex around his middle and looked up at him like a mischievous schoolboy, propping his chin up on Alex’s aching chest.
“You’re a problem, darling, or so I’ve been told.” He paused to sigh heavily, “The higher-ups made it clear to me that if I didn’t get rid of you, they would. And trust me, my technique is just foreplay compared to them.”
Alex took a shuddering breath and warily looked over at his best friend. “You could have just dumped me.”
Trevor released his hold and flopped back onto his back, “Ha, oh Alex, a kidder till the end.” The turned his face to look over at Alex, who turned his own head to look back at him. “That’s why I love you so much.”
Alex tried to smirk, but his cheeks hurt too much to tense. He stifled a groan as pain washed over him. “You have a fine way of showing it.”
Trevor’s expression sobered, and he looked up at the indentation of the steps above them, “You hurt the ones,” he began to say, then faded off. He absently picked at the gun in his hand.
Alex coughed a laugh, “How cliché of you, Trev.” Trevor sat up, swinging his legs around then sitting cross-legged. Alex closed his eyes against another attack of throbbing pain, and he couldn’t see the far-away look on Trevor’s face.
“You’re better off, believe me.”
Alex opened his eyes, and tried to speak but Trevor slammed one hand over it and pressed the gun to Alex’s forehead.
“I could put you out of your misery. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, huh? Dead instantly, instead of lying here waiting to drown in your own blood.” He removed he hand from Alex’s mouth, “I could do that.” He lowered his face to Alex’s and gently kissed his lover’s chapped lips, the gun still against his head.
Trevor pulled back, and watched Alex for a moment, then stood up and stepped over his body. He went down a step, and tossed a look over his shoulder.
“Too bad I’m not a gentleman.”
Alex slumped his head to the right, and he watched Trevor descend the stairs. His left eye was beginning to swell, and blood and tears burned his right. He repressed a rolling sense of nausea, squeezing his good eye shut against the urge to retch. His breathing slowed and became shallow, and he let a cloud of darkness swathe him.
Alex awoke in a panic. He was conscious, but his eyes wouldn’t open. His legs and torso ached, but his head was entirely numb. He gingerly lifted his left arm and pressed against his left eye. His eye felt wet and meaty, and nerves in his faced spasmed as he poked around. With his right hand, he touched his right eye. It was dry and sticky, so he assumed the blood had dried his eyelid closed. He used his thumb and forefinger to pry his eye open.
Dim lights flickered.
He used his right hand to push himself off the landing floor. He was able to swing his legs onto the step below him and sit with his hands propped on his knees. Before the nausea hit again, he took a few deep breaths and promptly threw up onto the step between his feet.
Without looking at the mess he’d just made, Alex grabbed a hold of the rusty railing to the right of him and hefted himself onto his feet. The sudden drain of blood from his head made him black out for a second; he wavered on his feet, trying not to vomit again.