InsaneJournal

Who? Tom/Harry, and Kat Wilder (Narrative; Kat is only mentioned, really.)
What? Harry wants to show Kat his favorite pickaxe. Up close.
Where? Outside of Lawrence, some rural quiet area where target practice happens.
When? Tonight!
Rating? Highish? Violence. Character death. Swearing.
Why? Kat is being dropped, so Caitlin and I decided to show that we are horrible people, etc.
Note: Cut text from "Glittering Cloud" by Imogen Heap.




Tom was an idiot. Harry was absolutely convinced of this fact. He went from pining after that Sarah woman to following this Kat girl like a lost puppy, and it was pathetic. Not to mention, she was getting too close. Harry was good, sure, but he wasn’t perfect - sooner or later he would slip up, and the closer someone was to Tom, the easier it would be for them to figure it out, put the dots together and come out with a picture that he wasn’t planning on showing anyone. So, she had to die.

Thing was, it was hard to find a good place to do it, here. She didn’t live at the complex, sure, but she had neighbors who would see him or hear something. Lawrence wasn’t nearly as rural as Harmony, even aside from the seal-displaced population who now called it home. But she’d done the hardest part for him, inviting Tom to go shooting with her - somewhere in the country, rather than in the city, which meant more opportunity. His backpack was heavier than it should have been, pickaxe weighing it down, and Harry had assumed control as soon as Tom had been preparing to leave. It was Harry, sitting in the car beside her as they drove, forcing smiles and pretending as hard as he could that he was, in fact, Tom. Pretending that she didn’t make his vision go red with rage and that his palms didn’t itch to have something solid - a weapon - in them.

He was patient, though. Patient enough that by the time he made his move, there was no one around. It was just the two of them, in the middle of nowhere, and he let himself trail a bit behind as they headed for where the targets were set up, slinging his bag onto his arm and unzipping it, getting a hand around the pickaxe inside -

- then he let his bag fall, taking his next step a little faster to close the gap between them, turning the weapon in his grip so he would be able to strike - now, while she wasn’t expecting it, before she could get out a gun and gain the upper-hand...

-

Tom wasn’t sure how it had happened. Well, that wasn’t entirely true - he knew what he’d seen. He’d been there, after all - it was more of a sense of confusion about how is this really happening than anything. He felt sick, and dazed, and there was a bruise forming on his face and his arm hurt like he’d hit it somehow, but even those physical sensations didn’t do much to tether him in this moment, here and now, because this couldn’t really be real.

Harry had come bursting out of the trees, mask on and pickaxe in hand like always, he always fucking did it this way, and Tom had thought he was hallucinating (he’d run out of pills three days ago but he hadn’t seen anything, he’d thought he was okay now, maybe)... and then Harry had gone straight for Kat. Tom had tried to stop him - he remembers running at them, and then hitting his head, somehow, and then he was on the ground, watching Harry cut out Kat’s heart, oh God....

He’s covered in blood. He was right there, close enough to get her blood on him but he couldn’t even do anything. Harry had ignored him - again, as always - and taken off into the woods, leaving Tom alone with the cooling body of the only real friend he had here, the girl he had been considering asking out properly...

...and that isn’t something to think about right now, because right now he needs to.... he needs to get her back to Lawrence. He needs to get someone to help him with this Harry thing, right fucking now because he’s done. He’s sick and tired of people being killed because of him, even though he doesn’t really get why Harry does this (he does understand, he gets it, he just doesn’t get why he does it like this instead of just fucking killing him already), and he fumbles bloody hands across his phone, because he needs to let someone know, right now. She had family here, she wasn’t just like he was, like most of them, displaced with no one to miss them if something happens - she lived here and now she was dead, and it was because he was stupid and thought maybe, this time, things would be okay.

Things were never okay. He knew that now.