Once I finally manage to get the door open, I head into the living room. The bag of money is gone. I guess it was something to do with this shift he got dragged into. I really must remember to ask him about it later, I can’t just ignore the random appearance and disappearance of six-thousand pounds can I? There’s not much point worrying about it now though, I already did that earlier.
I head upstairs to find a change of clothes, I rifle through my wardrobe until I find a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt. I slip them on and head back downstairs, but I stop half way down.
In the doorway to the kitchen, I see the sprawling body of Seb. He lies in a growing pool of blood, flowing easily over the laminate floor. I can’t move. His empty eyes stare at the ceiling, showing no hint of life. The blood is coming from a gash in his neck; it looks like some kind of blade has cut into it. His face is splattered with blood from the wound, as are the walls around him. I still freeze, not able to understand what I’m seeing. Eventually, I step slowly down and kneel next to him. I put my hand next his mouth, but I feel no warm air from him. His chest does not move, his heart does not beat. There is nothing left of the Seb I know.
Then I hear the footsteps. They seem to be coming from the kitchen. I freeze again. There shouldn’t be anyone in the house, Seb shouldn’t be lying here on the floor, this is all wrong. I hear one of the mugs smashing in the kitchen, a slight metallic ring to the noise. Do they have a sword? Why would someone carry a sword when they could use a gun? None of this makes any sense. Why would someone want to kill Seb? What was Seb doing at home anyway? Is this when he said he’d get back? I don’t know, I didn’t hear, this can’t be happening.
The footsteps move closer, I still can’t move, I don’t react at all. I see the leather boots right in front of me. I still can’t move. I see the sharpened tip of the sword this madman is carrying, it glints slightly as he twists it in his hand, preparing. I stay still, staring at the blood-soaked floor in front of me. He kicks Seb’s head, the insult hits me hard, I dive at the man’s legs in a desperate attempt to stop him from hurting Seb any more.
I know it makes no sense, Seb’s already dead, he can’t feel the pain, but still I feel this urge to protect him. I can’t stop myself from caring about him more than me. The attack takes the man by surprise, almost knocking him to the floor, but not quite. He stumbles, so I try to grab his arm, so that I can get hold of his weapon, but he swipes at me with the back of his other hand. I’m dazed for a second as I’m knocked back onto Seb’s limp corpse. The man chuckles quietly to himself, he raises the sword. I prepare myself for the blade, resigned to my inevitable death.
The blade hits Seb’s face, disfiguring it beyond recognition, I scream and charge towards the man, but he holds up the blade in front of my neck. This is all wrong. I step back again, glancing at the remains of the face I knew and loved, now a shattered mess of blood, crushed bones and mangled flesh. A single tear rolls down my cheek, I breathe quickly, trying to cope with what just happened, but it doesn’t help.
The sword-wielder walks slowly up to me and pushes me to the ground, forcing me to lie in what’s left of Seb, who I loved for nearly two years. He seems to take some kind of delight in my discomfort and disgust. Once again he raises the shining sword. This time it goes straight through my brain.
Everything goes white.