DANE MATTHEWS @dane-is-damaged-blog - Tumblr Blog

✗Prologue -Page Two ✗

Thomas was his friend. Well, at least the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. Thomas was the only person who had been genuinely kind to him the past couple months. He was the only one who made Dane feel the slightest bit sane, and now he was dead.

Why did he have to see?

As his thoughts grew unbearable to keep to himself, he began to speak to the corpse that lay mere feet away.

"Why did you have to see, Thomas?!" He yelled as tears swelled in his eyes. "You could've been spared! I mean, how stupid are you? You weren't even invited! I just... Thomas. How could I? I-I- I'm sorry. You couldn't just leave things alone. I-I know I'm a monster, but I... I can't let that be... public."

"Wait." A strange calmness settled over his voice. " No. No. No. No! No! No!" His tone slowly increased as he spoke. "I'll be damned if I let my emotions get the best of me!"

"But." He spoke softly as a tear rolled down his cheek. "But, you weren't supposed to be here... Now look what you made me do, Thomas! It's your own fault that you're dead! You wouldn't understand why I did these things! Honestly, I barely do!" He hadn't realized earlier, but his hands were clenched into fists.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way. And for that my dear friend, from the only place of sanity I posses, I am sorry," he said as he crouched onto the floor, into a ball, and let his tears continue to fall.

#Prologue continued #2/2 #Dane Matthews #my writing #thriller #mystery #blood #aesthetic #grunge #wattpad

✗Prologue - Page One✗

Waiting.

He stood there waiting, as if expecting a reaction, or better yet, the roar of applause from an audience amazed by his performance. The blood that soaked his cotton t-shirt, leaving it a deep crimson color dripped, forming a quarter-sized puddle on the concrete beneath his feet. His whole body shook, not with fear, but excitement. His veins filled with adrenaline. He took a step back to better analyze the crime he had committed only moments before.

On a wooden table lay a teenage boy, about 17, and maybe 5'11. Though they had ceased, due to the boy's lack of life, Dane could still hear his screams of pain and eternal agony. The boy, once called Thomas, lie still with a huge gash, that lead from the tip of his chin, all the way to his groin. If he had been cut any deeper, he'd be in two symmetric pieces. Blood seeped through the several other slits that aligned his comatose body. There was one slice that ran from ear to ear, meeting in the middle of his lips. His mouth had been mutilated and left almost non-existent. It left the boy in a constant smile. Despite the damage Thomas' mouth had been dealt, nothing could amount to the huge grin that gleamed across Dane's face.

Dane's smile quickly faded once he had finally realized the truth behind the matter. His hands were shaking even more violently than before, now at an alarming rate, as he let go of the blood stained butcher knife and watched it fall to the floor. A twist of guilt fluttered through his stomach.