I want you to fucking die, I think. I shift but he holds me there, his legs locked against my waist.

“Look, babe, you’re cute an’ all but killin’ Ted was a big no-no. Like big.” Haden removes his hands from my lips, letting me speak.

“I didn't kill him, alright? This other person did! Would you and Kelly stop blaming me?!” I snarl, exasperated.

Haden gasps. “You know Kel’s name?! Stalker!” He smacks my ass. Hard.

My face burns as I hiss in a shaky voice, “I-I-I-I am n-not a s-stalker. I-I-I-I o-overheard you and some others mention each other’s names so...” My heart is hammering in my chest, the weight of Haden on me getting increasingly uncomfortable. I try to look around and realize that if I were to scream, no one would hear me. We are too far away from others.

“I’m not happy that you killed my best friend/ex-boyfriend,” Haden growls. “I shall be repaying what you did.” Haden turns me over and presses his face close to mine. “I’ll torture you first before I kill you.” His light blue eyes flare mischievously.

I do what I must. I jerk my head away, trying to jam my knee into Haden’s groin but fail because he holds me down too tight. I struggle, making sure to not turn my face to his. That fails too because he cups my face and mashes his lips against mine. 

A crazy thought pops into my head: Is he going to rape me?! and my heart drops to my stomach.

I’m screaming in protest, trying to throw him off me. I feel his hands going up my shirt and I feel dizzy and sick, trying to pull away from him. I’m thinking that this is so fucked up that in the end, Haden might actually rape me.

I don’t close my eyes. How can I? I don’t like this. I’m loathing this. I want to gag but can’t. I feel his tongue being shoved into my mouth and I feel so sick. Too sick. Way too sick.

No. Did I think that or not...?

NO. Speak, Joey, speak! Goddammit.

“STOP!” I howl which causes him to slap me.

“Quit...strugglin’! Fuck it.” Haden is most certainly trying to rape me, yes, he is. My shirt is gone, and he is holding me in a terrible position.

“NONONONO!” I scream, my lungs aching, my body reeling at the touch of Haden.

His blond hair flops over his light blue eyes. “Ugh, feisty, huh?” He grabs my shoulders.

No, no, no, no, no... I whimper—holy god, I’m whimpering! I thrash and Haden snarls, “Stop it!” he hits me hard, and I wail in protest. I want him to fuck off already. I want him to let go of me. I don’t care if people say I should be able to fend for myself because I’m a guy. But I’m scared. I feel so hopeless. I can’t get him off of me.

I shriek in rage when I feel Haden’s tongue being shoved back into my mouth. I want to kill him. My god, I never felt so violent before. I want to stab him, want to twist his head off, want to strangle him. He deserves to die, I’m telling myself.

“Ge’uf me...” My words are slurred from Haden’s lips against mine. I feel his hands traveling; I want to kill this fucker.

“Can’t do!” Haden chirps, patting my cheek.

I freeze when he begins to undo my pants. Then, do I explode.

“NONONONONONO!” I howl, managing to jam my knee into his groin and he screeches in agony. He’s now off of me, groaning, and I whack the backside of his head and he stumbles. I kick him and slip on my shirt, scrambling to get Fili Mi. Once the gun is in my hands, I point to Haden’s forehead, panting.

The color drains from Haden’s face and his eyes are wide. I can’t take him seriously with his unzipped pants. I can’t. I see absolute terror in his face, a low whimper in his throat. It dies when I jab the gun against his forehead harder and he gasps.

“I’ll kill you,” I spit. “I swear I will.” I pull my finger on the trigger, readying myself to fire.

“D-d-d-dun't kill m-me!” Haden says, his voice trembling. He holds his hands in surrender. “I-I din’t wanna do this...m’general told me t-to do this...”

“Your general told you to rape me?!” I don’t believe him. “You piece of shit, how do you think I can believe you?!” I’m furious, the words spilling from my lips. “No one with the right mind tells someone to rape someone! You insane?! Who’s your general? I’ll beat the fucking daylights out of him, tell me before I kill you! You fucking idiot!” I swing Fiil Mi and catch Haden’s cheek. He falls and I hover over him, jamming the gun into his lower stomach. “You got five seconds, pretty boy,” I hiss.

“Ya-ya see, I-I can’t n-necessarily t-tell you w-whom m-m'general is...” Haden sputters.

“FIVE.”

“N-no! P-puh-lease h-have mercy...” Haden whines, cowering away.

“FOUR. You were going to rape me, so I think not.” I spit.

“W-well...”

“THREE! TWO!”

“WAIT! General Bernays!” Haden begins to sob dryly. “I don’t wanna die! Don’t kill me!” It's so pathetic. So, so pathetic.

SIGH.

It’s like the movies. A bad guy is about to die in the hands of the good guy and the bad guy begs for mercy. The good guy being the good guy gives mercy and then the bad guy tries to kill the good guy. I don’t like that. I don’t want to risk it. But I’m not evil. SCREW THE WAYS OF THE WORLD! I hate clichés. Did I mention that?

“Give me your weapons. All of them or I’ll kill you.” I threaten Haden.

Haden digs into his pocket and disposes two knives and a lighter. He throws them to the side. Still holding the gun at him, I quickly grab the knives and lighter, stuffing them in my pockets.

“Now...is that all of it?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Y-yes, sir, it is...” Haden flushes, light blue eyes wary.

“Positive?” I say in a low voice.

“Pos’tive.” Haden confirms.

I nod shortly before pulling away and Haden sits up, blowing out noisily. He runs a hand through his wild blond hair and scowls at his hands. 

“Jus’ dun kill me...” Haden adds meekly.

“Okay.” I fire at his shoulder, and he howls in mad pain. “Hope you can get dressed like that.” I smile thinly, stalking off, hearing Haden swear and curse at me.

I walk but it’s not long before someone crashes into me.

Does the world hate me? Why must everyone crash into me and want to hurt me? What did I do wrong? I stagger and whip around, glaring at the person.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” It’s a young man. He looks baffled and agitated. “Don’t kill me...” He pockets his handgun and says, “See? No harm. I’m going.” He tries to go but I stop him.

“What’s your name? Are you working for General Bernays?” I ask him.

“I ran away.”

“Answer my question. Did you work for Bernays?” I snarl and the man looks away, almost ashamed.

“Yes. But like I said—I ran away.” He looks at me and I’m blown away by his eyes: they’re golden-green. “I’m Kris, also.”

I glare at him before I mumble, “Joey.” Okay, okay, I know. You’re not supposed to tell your names to strangers, especially if they could be your enemy. But he seemed nice. I don’t know. I’m still shaken from before.

“Joey? Ohh, so you’re the one I’m supposed to...” Kris flushes, running a hand through his tousled black hair. He’s cute. Shit, what am I thinking? 

“Kill? Hurt? Murder? Rape?” I throw a bunch of suggestions at Kris.

“Uh. It doesn’t matter because I won’t do it!” He looks trapped, like a caged panther, readying himself to run or fight when he needs to. His golden-green eyes flick to the floor, and he rubs a hand behind his neck.

“So... we’re enemies.” I say slowly and Kris nods. “Are we going to kill each other? Fight? Or...?” I wait for him to suggest something.

“No clue,” Kris admits. “But I don’t want to kill anyone. Or fight anyone. Um... let’s not get caught, how about that? We can talk and not die.” Kris says, his golden-green eyes locking with mine.

My stomach churns. “Sure.”

I look at him. He’s toying with the hem of his shirt before he glances at me, grinning, saying, “So...do you believe in fate?”

I hesitate before saying, “Well, not really. Do you?”

“Always had and always will,” Kris says.

“How?” I’m intrigued.

“Hah. Well, funny story actually. One time my mom got seriously sick. She needed medicine, but we didn’t have enough money to bring her to the hospital to get the treatment needed. My dad was struggling to earn enough to feed eight kids, yeah, I know, right? Eight kids. And um... we couldn’t do much. I was thinking to myself, Man, if only we win the lottery and have at least a million dollars. We’d be able to do so much. Short story, my dad won the lottery, my mom got healed. There are many things that happened for me to believe in fate...and have faith in God. Except certain things, of course...” Kris wrinkles his nose. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you want to say something? I talk a lot...” He looks at me apologetically.

“I like listening a lot,” I say and Kris grins. What the fuck am I doing? Am I flirting? I don’t even like guys...right?!

Kris nods. “Cool.” He runs a hand through his tousled black hair and I'm thinking, It must be a nervous habit.

Wow, good job, Joey. Now you’re noticing the guy’s nervous ticks. You’re hopeless. You're not even gay. Or bi. Or pan. You’re straight. Just because you never got into a relationship doesn’t mean you start letting your mind wander to all the cute people out there. RIGHT? Right?!

Deep breaths. 

“After this war ends,” I say slowly to Kris, "um... what do you plan on doing?"

“Well...I’m only twenty-three so I plan on finding a boyfriend and settling down with him. Obviously go to therapy and continue with college. I’ll go to my parents and tell them I’m fine and see my seven siblings and my nieces and nephews...stuff like that. You?” Kris’s golden-green eyes are so...beautiful. They lure me in.

“Uh...f-find someone to go out with, go to therapy...go to college... um yeah.” I swallow hard.

“Your parents? Don’t you want to see them?” Kris asks. He’s innocent. Of course he doesn’t know.

“They um...passed on.” I say instead.

“Oh! I’m so sorry..." Kris's hand flutters to his mouth. Pity flares in his eyes. He’s too kind.

“No, no... it’s fine. You’re fine. I’m fine.” Kris has doubt in his eyes as he studies me.

“You sure?” He presses gently.

“Hm mm.” I nod stiffly.

Silence fills the atmosphere. It’s awkward. I don’t know how to fill the silence. I never did. I’m not that good at talking to people. So why am I talking to him? I want to talk to him but I’m unsure what to say. Instead, I mumble, “Nice gun,” and Kris looks up at me, a playful grin on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s a good gun. It’s my mom’s. Reason is what the gun’s called. I didn’t name it; she did. Your rifle is cool.” Kris studies it.

“Oh, this thing?” I show him the gun. “Thanks. It’s also not mine...it’s my father’s rifle. Fili Mi, is what it's called.”

“Fili Mi?” Kris looks stunned. “Oh, interesting name.”

“Why?” I ask him sharply. He gives me a startled look so I soften my tone. “What do you mean?”

“Uh...it’s Latin for ‘My Son’, or in the Italian translation, it means, ‘Wires Me’. So now if you combine those two together, it means, ‘My son wires me’ as in ‘my son holds me together’. That’s an interesting name choice.” Kris nods.

I gape at him. “Uh” is all I can say.

“Sorry, huge nerd about language and all that. I know like eight languages.” Kris says softly.

“What?! What are they?” What a fascinating conversation with a person who is supposed to kill me.

“English, Korean, Latin (long story), Italian, German, French, sarcasm and flirt.” Kris grins at me.

“Really?” I grin back at him.

Kris nods, his fingers toying with his tousled black hair. Color blooms in his cheeks. “That’s right.”

We don’t say anything. Just stare at each other.

It ends, though, when Kris says, “Well...I have to go. You know what? Let’s be friends. I’ll meet you up...by this tree. Okay? Try not to get killed.” Kris waves his farewell and he’s gone.

I stay a bit longer after he’s gone, muttering, “Yeah. Bye.” Stupid hope. Maybe my heart wasn’t done breaking.