Emma's POV
My breathing is heavy and fast. I can't control it, I can't control anything. Not my thoughts, not my tears, not my fate. Nothing.
Tears stream down my face as I look at the dying boy next to me, his painful cough causing me to cringe.
Ashton has five stab wounds in his stomach. Each one is deep and spilling blood uncontrollable and I can't stop it.
"Ashton, I'm so sorry." I sob, softly running my hands through his hair as an attempt of comfort.
Using the little strength he has, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare die feeling guilty, Ashton Irwin. You didn't know this would happen." My sobs are choking me up and it's getting harder to speak.
"Tell Grace I love her, okay? Get out of here alive and tell her I love her." He whispers and begins to cough again. Blood spurts out of his mouth with each cough and tears spill down his face.
"Alright, alright." I panic when I sense he won't be here much longer.
Ashton gives me a small smile and his coughing gets harder. I'm covered in his blood as I do everything in my power to stop him from coughing.
"Kill those bastards." He mutters, his eyes fluttering shut.
"No! Ashton, don't leave!" I begin to scream hysterically. "Don't leave me alone!"
I hear a soft breath being let out then his body is still.
"No, no, no, no." I cry. "Ashton?"
I get up from my place on the hallway floor. "YOU FUCKING DICKS!" I scream.
I kick the wall next to me. "You absolute bastards!"
I let out a scream and tug at my hair in frustration. I let myself collapse on the floor and wrap my arms around my knees. I let the sobbing control my body and I can hardly breathe.
"Such a same he had to die." I hear a voice behind me. "He was a nice young lad, wasn't he?"
My head snaps around and I'm met by a tall man wearing all black.
I quickly get up and begin to walk backwards, away from the stranger.
"What the hell do you want from us?" I shout.
"Fun." The man smirks. He has a black eye and a bloody lip. His face is scruffy and his teeth are yellow. It's the same man that killed Ashton.
The man twirls the bloody knife in his hand as he makes his way towards me.
"L-leave me alone!" I whimper.
"But that'll ruin the fun." The man is right in front of me, his body inches away from mine as I'm against the hallway wall.
"Please." I beg.
The man places one hand on the wall next to my head, the other hand holds the knife. He runs the knife softly up and down my arm. The blade is cold and although he isn't pressing hard enough to do any harm, I feel the sharpness of it.
I squirm to try to get away but he uses a hand to grip my waist, keeping me in place.
"Now, now. Don't run away." He whispers, his breath stenching of stale alcohol.
The knife goes lower until it's on my thigh, the point of the knife pressing into it uncomfortably.
Tears run down my face, mostly from fear. I have yet to feel pain yet and I dread the moment the knife is pressed down harder.
