A shattered and shaky breath left Randy's mouth, eyes glazed over as he was no longer staring at Jeff, but at the ceiling of the living room which the two boys had been fighting in. This was it. His death. He could feel his heart giving in to Jeff's punches, it's beating coming to a stop in a painfully slow way. Randy's life flashed before his eyes as he felt his end drawing closer and closer. Jeff was looking down at him, watching as his eyes slowly closed, before deciding that the younger boy was dead, judging that by his closed eyes. Of course, the psychotic teen didn't check for a pulse because he knew that Keith and Troy were coming after him too, so just got up and left Randy on the floor.
"Somebody, call an ambulance now!" Margaret, the mother of Jeff, cried as she cradled her burnt son in her arms, rocking back and forth with him as she brushed a now-black strand of hair out of his face.
Instantly, Barbara was on the phone, her voice wavering as she gave the specific details of what happened to the woman on the phone. "Yes... H-He's thirteen... I don't know about the other kids..."
Billy, Barbara's five-year-old son, was crying his eyes out, as were his friends. The other parents tried to comfort the children, knowing that what they saw was not meant for their young eyes.
Shortly after 911 had been called, an ambulance pulled up outside the house, some paramedics rushing in. Two carried Jeff out on a stretcher and into the ambulance while two more went upstairs to the bathroom. They soon came back down, one carrying Keith while the other struggled to carry Troy.
"A-Are they okay...?" Barbara asked the two paramedics who carried the other two boys.
The one carrying Keith shook his head sadly. "Both of them are dead," he announced. "We'll contact their families once we take them to the mortuary..."
Barbara could only look at the dead boys in a sympathetic way, knowing that the parents of the kids would be heartbroken. That's how she'd feel if she lost Billy, at least. She could no longer look at them, turning away as their bodies were covered by white sheets. The paramedics then carried the corpses out of the house.
"Is that everyone?" asked one of the paramedics who helped wheel Jeff out.
"...There was one more kid," Margaret remembered, standing by the ambulance, ready to get in so she could go to the hospital with her son. "He's inside too..." The paramedic nodded to the second paramedic, the two walking in and splitting up - one going upstairs while one went downstairs - in search of Randy.
"He's in here!" called the one who was downstairs, having entered the living room where Randy lay. He thought that the boy, like the other two, would be dead, but as he checked for a pulse...
"He's still alive!"
The second paramedic hurried in with a medical kit, attaching a mask over Randy's mouth to support his breathing. "Lucky we got to him in time. He was fading fast," he confirmed. "But it's likely that he's already in a coma of some sort; he may never wake up."
Like Jeff, Randy was wheeled out. Another ambulance had to be called for him, which arrived after Jeff's ambulance had already left. He was taken to the same hospital, immediately being taken to an Intensive Care Unit. It was officially confirmed that Randy was indeed in a coma.
Randy's right hand twitched discreetly, eyes still closed as he remained asleep. He grimaced slightly as his eyes opened for the very first time since he had fallen in this state. The boy blinked so that his vision was no longer blurry, seeing where he was. He was not at all surprised at the fact that he was in a hospital, more surprised that he was actually alive. Randy tried to sit up, hearing nothing but the low hum of the room's air conditioner and the rhythmed beeping of the heart monitor beside him. He just seemed to sit there and listen to those sounds, trying to determine if he truly was alive and awake or if he was dead.
A nurse entered the room holding a clipboard and a pen. As soon as she saw Randy, she gasped and almost dropped what she was holding. She stared at him for a while before exitting the room, never looking away from the patient until she had closed the room's door. After that, Randy could hear her hurrying down the corridor and the muffled words:
Seconds after hearing that, the nurse came back into the room with the doctor. Even this doctor, who seemed like he had experience, seemed shocked to see Randy awake.
"So he is..." the doctor gasped, tilting his glasses up.
"...What's going on?" Randy decided to ask. Strange... His voice was broken...
The doctor stepped forward to speak to him. "I'm going to try to say this as simple as I can so it doesn't hit you too hard..." he began before looking Randy in the eyes. "...You've been in a coma for four years."
Randy felt his eyes widen. "...What?" he reacted, not knowing what else to say.
"When you were twelve years old you got into a fight with this boy named Jeff-"
"I know!" Randy snapped, interrupting the doctor. His sudden temper seemed to silence the room before he decided to continue speaking, trying to sound calm. "...I mean... Have I really been in a coma...? For four years...?"
The doctor nodded. "Yes," he answered.
"W-What about... Keith... and Troy...?" Randy continued, remembering his two buddies. He saw the doctor look down.
"...They were killed that day," he announced.
Randy's fists clenched and he gritted his teeth. The doctor put his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but had his hand slapped away instantly. "Don't touch me!" Randy exclaimed angrily, glaring up at the doctor. "My two best friends are DEAD?!"
"I'm afraid it's true..." the doctor responded.
"...What about Jeff? Is he dead too?" Randy queried. God, he hoped the answer would be yes. No, he knew it would be yes - Keith and Troy had guns; they must've shot him at some point!
"No," the doctor revealed. This only made Randy feel even more rage. The heart monitor was speeding up.
"Randy, take it easy..." the doctor eased. "Your heart is very weak - you could give yourself a heart attack if you put too much pressure on yourself."
"I don't give a shit!" Randy shot back at him, pulling the life support tube from his arm and detaching himself from the heart monitor, heaving himself onto his feet. He had to support himself on the bedside table since he'd practically forgotten how to walk. The doctor tried to lie him back down.
"Hang on, son, it's too early for you to get up yet..." he informed.
Once again, Randy pushed him away, this time almost knocking him to the floor. "Keep away from me," he hissed, staggering towards the door. As he reached for the handle, the doctor grabbed him by the forearm.
"Randy. Lie back down. You really need to rest..." he stated. Randy just pulled away before noticing his old pen-knife on the bedside table, the one he pulled on Jeff and Liu at the bus stop that day. He stumbled towards the table and picked the knife up, flicking the blade out and turning to face the doctor.
The doctor noticed Randy's ominous look. "...Randy, put that down..." he tried to say calmly, unsure whether he should approach the now-sixteen-year-old or to just back away with the nurse. Randy ignored his command and slowly walked towards him. This movement is what caused the doctor to decide that backing away was the best idea, until both he and the nurse were against the wall. Randy was now in both their faces, smirking in a smug yet sadistic way.
"Y'know, doc..." he began slowly and eerily. "I wasn't a very nice kid... I was the leader of the three of us boys back in those days... I was the neighbourhood terror... And nobody dared mess with me..." Then, without warning, Randy slashed the doctor across the throat. The doctor gasped, clasping his hand over his open wound as he collapsed to the floor. The nurse screamed in horror as she watched the doctor die right before her very eyes before Randy silenced her by covering her mouth with his hand. He grinned at her sinisterly. "Good night~" he whispered before stabbing her throat repeatedly, waiting until her muffled screams had ceased to exist. Randy took his hand away from her mouth and stepped back, watching her slide down the wall and to the ground. 'Time to get outta this gown,' the teen thought, seeing some clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner of the room. There was a card on top of it saying "Get Well Soon!". Such a cliche, but Randy quickly read it.
I hope you're feeling better, my son! If you're awake, here are some new clothes I thought you might like. Hope you like them, and I hope you come home healthy again.
Lots of love,
Randy put the card on his bedside table. His mother was his only person left now since his abusive father took off when he was about eight or nine years old. The teenage boy picked up the pile of clothes and headed into the attached bathroom, taking a good look at the clothes. He had been given a pair of half-cut black jeans which were ripped at the knees, a black T-shirt saying "Blink-182" on it, some black velcro trainers with some black South Park socks, a navy blue bandana and a matching navy blue cap, along with a black leather jacket. "...Hmph," Randy shrugged, taking a liking to his new clothes. He took off his now-blood-stained hospital gown and put on the clothes, wearing the bandana around his neck and the hat backwards. He let the fringe of his jet black hair stick out from the hole in the cap where the adjustment strap was to try and make himself look cooler, slipping his pen-knife into his jacket's pocket. He looked at his reflection for a while to see how he had aged, now being more scrawny and mature-looking, face a little paler than it used to be and his light blue eyes standing out from the rest of his dark features. After admiring himself, he left the hospital room.
Staff members stared at him suspiciously as he left the hospital, obviously having not yet seen the dead bodies that he had left. Seeing the sun rising made Randy stop, having to stare at this sight which he hadn't seen for so long. He took in a deep, clean breath, then exhaled through his mouth, smiling his signature, smug grin. Randy then began walking again, not knowing exactly where he was going, only knowing that he had one goal in mind right now. Revenge.
"You may think we're even, Jeff..." Randy said as he walked down the road. "But not for long. I'm back now, Jeff, and as you already know..."
"...I don't go for even. I go for winning."