Mended by Murder Part 2
"How am I supposed to kill them when even I am injured? I cannot walk, and my breath is weary. I cannot summon the strength to cause physical harm, so how will I murder the remaining?" I beckon to the silhouette, "If I pass out from the loss of blood, then none will die except my beloved."
What feels like an eternity passes by waiting for a response from the silhouette. Is it deep in thought trying to make the bargain better? "This time and this time only, I'll make it easy for you. All you have to do is touch the remaining and speak the words, 'rest now'. Once the last syllable has been spoken their souls will leave their bodies. Once all the remaining perish, your beloved will be brought back to life." The silhouette is engulfed by the fog and I cannot remember even it were real or not.
I leave her after gingerly resting her split head on the asphalt below. Dragging myself to the first remainder, Trevor, I can hear his screaming perfectly. His torso was punctured by the metal of the broken seat in front of him. The metal clearly sticks through both sides of his body, and his hands are trying to hold back the blood pouring from the puncture. Even if I weren't to touch his, he may die from a lack of blood or at least the infection from the metal seats that are never cleaned off and have nose boogers strewn all over them; however this seems to be his only wound and if paramedics arrive fast enough, his life could be spared. Crawling to his, I now lay under him. Reaching my hands up to touch him, he looks down upon me. "H-Hey buddy. G-Get me out of here. I-I d-don't want to die."
"Taking you out of the metal would kill you faster. It is blocking the blood from just pouring right out of you."
"Please." His speech is quickened and fractured by his pain. "Te-Tell me. Tell me. A-Am I. Going to die?" His eyes are beating into mine. I can sense his fear of death, but my desire to have my beloved back is more important than some jock's life.
"No, no, no Trevor." I have gained a hold of his foot. "Rest now, Trevor." Before he could hear his name one last time, his body stopped. Stopped squirming; stopped screaming; stopped beating, just stopped. His lifeless eyes still beating down upon mine. Drops of water colliding with the asphalt below me. I had started crying and yet I barely know Trevor. He was an athlete, a stupid jock, and he never pertained to me much. He and I were in a couple of classes together, and if he weren't on this bus today, he may very well had been going to play at the collegiate Division I level in the fall.
I take my hands off of his. I can still feel his lifeless eyes on me as I try to move away. I pick up a rock around me, thinking I'd throw it trying to knock away his eyes so I don't feel the guild, but I want to feel this guilt from killing him. I want to feel bad for killing Trevor. I prefer to be reminded of my deed proving that I'd do anything for my beloved.
The next remainder is not far from Trevor. They lay on the other side of the wreckage. I can already hear the moaning coming from the next one. I feel as though I heard this moaning beforehand. The moaning is faint like the person is barely conscious. But, who can this moaning be coming from?