More info on this story in my bio.

Just For You

All the band kids that qualified gathered at the two pieces of paper proclaiming the ranks of all who had tried out for State, a competition that required all who signed up to put in insane amounts of practice and dedication into learning the music used to audition. One person had even failed a class to practice for State. Being accepted into State Band was a very high honor.

Tiffany stood with her friend Chrissy a little to the left of the sign, waiting for the crowd around the papers to disperse. She watched people either smile brightly, sigh with disappoint and frustration, or whip out a cell phone to call a friend to inform them of their rank.

As the crowd thinned, Chrissy pushed her friend forward, smiling. “Go check it out. If you made it, we’ll go celebrate. If not, I’ll cheer you up somehow.”

“Coffee ice cream!” Tiffany reminded her friend for the seven millionth time. Chrissy only rolled her eyes in response and moved her hand in a “yeah, yeah,” motion.

In front of the papers, she scanned it for the clarinet section. With that found, her eyes followed her finger down the list of names. She read the first five names over and over again, staring at it disbelievingly.

Clarinet

Tiffany Caid
Nicholas Riles
Jeremy Hall
Lisa Claude
David Thorton

She spun around and shouted to Chrissy, “First chair!” Elation coated her voice. First chair from every section in State joined the first chair from the other 49 states to crate the National Band that played for the president. She had waited her whole high school career for the chance to go, and now it was here, given in her last year. What a perfect gift. It was better than coffee ice cream.

“Congratulations!” Chrissy said, smiling just as widely as Tiffany. “Still want that ice cream?”

“Definitely!”

“You wait here, then, I’ll drive over. I know you want to constantly double check that you got first chair. Don’t worry; it won’t disappear. I'll be right back. I’ll call you when I'm outside, okay?” Chrissy hugged her friend briefly before making her way to the student parking lot.

Tiffany watched Chrissy leave, a giant smile on her face. She felt so happy, so proud of this moment. She hardly ever got a chance to be proud of herself since she was never happy with her accomplishments, thinking them too trivial but first chair… she could hardly talk down making first chair out of hundred of applicants. No, this truly meant she was good at what she did.

Nick Riles, who had waited until Tiffany was alone, took the time to stride over to where she stood. His expression was dark with detestation. Tiffany had stolen first chair from him, beaten him to Nationals, and he wanted retribution. Ever since they’d met in middle school, they had a rivalry. They hated each other.

In middle school, Mr. Caid, the high school band director visited in the morning and helped the middle school director with his students, especially the first years. He had done so ever since he started teaching at the high school ten years ago. It had nothing to do with the fact his only child had started middle school. However, Nick had quietly said to anyone who'd listen that Mr. Caid was only helping out to help his daughter. Once Tiffany got wind of Nick's accusations, things only went downhill from there.

To Mr. Caid’s face, Nick was always flawlessly polite, the perfect model student. Later on or out of earshot, he always criticized the director for everything he did: the way he dressed or taught or spoke. It irritated Tiffany to no end. He told people that Mr. Caid favored his daughter and was trying to sabotage everyone so they failed and made her look better than everyone else. As a result, Mr. Caid and his daughter’s popularity level weren't high. But anyone who didn't listen to Nick's false accusations liked both father and daughter very well.

Tiffany hated that two-timing bastard.

As Tiffany caught sight of Nick, her good mood melted away. Nick was never good news.

Always courteous, even to contemptible assholes, Tiffany congratulated him for making second chair. His stormy expression only darkened in response. No luck in making him go away.

“I see you made first chair.” He said coldly, half an arm’s length away from her. He seemed to be trying to make himself seem more imposing than he was. Tiffany laughed inwardly at his futile efforts.

“I did.” She replied, thinly veiled hostility coating her voice.

“You know why?” he snarled suddenly, eager to lash out at her. Giving her no room to reply, he continued, “It’s because of your precious band director father. He coaches you in private; he has connections; he can set you up. You don’t deserve first chair you little, cheat.”

“How dare you?!” Tiffany asked angrily. “How is it possible to cheat in band? Yes, my dad helps me practice, sure he coaches me, but he always tells everyone the same advice! There’s no difference! As for setting me up, don’t be ridiculous! He’d never do such a thing, and I would never ask him to! Don’t assume you know anything about the way I function!”

“Of course you’re going to lie and defend your stupid father! He doesn’t deserve it! You don’t deserve it! Any of it! You’re both lying, cheating morons! I’m the only one who should have first chair!”

“You arrogant child! Keep my dad out of this asinine argument! I earned first chair because I’m better than—”

Nick’s fist swung out and hit Tiffany’s cheek. Startled, Tiffany staggered back, hand clutching her injured cheek.

“You bastard!” she hissed angrily. Nick took a step back at the ferocity of her anger as she started forward to retaliate. She didn't get a chance to even the score.

The door to the band hall opened, revealing Mr. Caid. Immediately, Nick summoned his façade as perfect student. Tiffany glared at him hatefully, fists shaking at her side, still ready to strike out at him. She wanted to smack the fake smile right off his foul face.

“Thanks to all your help and guidance, Mr. Caid; I got second chair in State! Since Tiffany got first chair, I was just asking her if she'd share a few pointers. I got what I wanted, so I’ve got to go now, bye!” With that, Nick ran away from the two without waiting for Mr. Caid’s answer.

Mr. Caid turned to his daughter, raising an eyebrow in question. Tiffany, body still tense, stared at the ground, teeth clenched in an effort to prevent herself from shouting after Nick. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw her dad motion to her, silently asking her to follow him. She did so sedately, plotting to get even with Nick somehow. She followed him through the band hall doors and into his private office.

“Close the door.” Tiffany winced, anger with Nick momentarily forgotten. A closed office door meant Mr. Caid would be yelling at some unfortunate student. The door shut with a soft click that seemed to echo in Tiffany's mind.

“Come here.”

Eyes trained on the floor, Tiffany stepped closer to her dad. She stopped a couple steps from him, waiting nervously for his scolding. But it never came. Instead, Mr. Caid closed the distance between them and pulled his daughter into his arms, embracing her as only a daddy could. Tiffany's arms automatically came up to return the hug. She buried her face into his shirt, eyes closing. Breathing in, she could smell his familiar and comforting scent composed of cologne and hazelnut coffee. She relaxed completely, ignoring the throbbing of her cheek and her anger at Nick's presumptuous attitude. He didn't matter. Only this did.

“Daddy,” she breathed out quietly. Mr. Caid rubbed her back in small soothing circles, saying nothing as nothing needed to be said.

Mr. Caid, still embracing his only child with one arm, pushed Tiffany back slightly to look at her. He saw the bruise forming on her cheek and frowned. Tiffany blinked up at him.

“Get some ice from the fridge, okay?” He let go of his child, allowing her to turn around.

Tiffany reluctantly left the safety of her dad’s arms and opened the mini-fridge behind her, pulling out a small bag of ice. She brought it back to her dad, and he took it from her, gently applying it to her cheek. Tiffany winced, biting her lip at the cold sensation.

“What happened?” He asked softly.

Tiffany hesitated, hand automatically going to her hair and fiddling with a couple strands. Her mouth opened but no sound came forth to offer her dad an answer. She closed her mouth and stared past him, wondering how to explain the situation without him thinking it was her fault, like the similar incident with Nick earlier in her high school career.

“Nothing really happened. Chrissy left; I stayed; Nick came. Nothing special.”

“Tiffany,” her dad said quasi-patiently, “this has happened before. I don't want it happening any more.” She paused, trying to figure out a way to tell the truth but not everything. Mr. Caid's free hand went to his daughter’s shoulder. Its familiar weight silently encouraging her was all she needed.

Taking a breath, Tiffany began again, “Nick got jealous. He's not going to Nationals as long as I'm around. And… he…” She hesitated slightly, wondering if she should tell him what Nick said. The small break in her explanation clued her dad in that there was something more that Tiffany wasn’t telling him.

“What else?”

“Nothing,” she answered too quickly, averting her eyes. “It’s just that Nick is such a fuc—” Tiffany glanced up at her dad. He arched an eyebrow at her word choice. Blushing, she changed her vocabulary and continued, “Nick is such a hypocritical good-for-nothing, and it’s really starting to piss me off! He—”

“Tiffany,” Mr. Caid interrupted mid-rant, “you’re avoiding the question.”

Tiffany leaned against her dad, sighing. Her dad always caught her out. “He punched me.” She trailed off, unsure how her dad would take the news. His eyes flashed dangerously as his daughter’s words sunk in.

He pulled the ice bag down and touched the bruise lightly. “He did this?” he asked lowly. Tiffany nodded. Her dad reapplied the ice, thinking furiously.

“He also insulted you, called you a lying, cheating moron.” She added, trying to distract him.

Mr. Caid forced a laugh. It almost sounded genuine and would have fooled anyone but his daughter. “You don’t need to defend me, Tiffany. I want you to take care of you.”

“But he accused you of all sorts of things! Not just now, from before, when I was in middle school! He doesn’t deserve anything but a disqualification from every band competition in existence. Then he can’t blame you or me for his stupidity! He’s just jealous that I’m better than him and always will be. He can’t stand that.”

“Tiffany, you know band isn't only about competition and being better than others. It's about enjoying what you do, what you play. I'm very proud that you got first chair, but you know that first chair shouldn’t be your goal. Your goal should be becoming a better person through music.” He gently removed the ice and touched the fast-growing bruise.

“I know, daddy.”

“That's my girl. Now I'm sure Chrissy would like to celebrate with you. When you get back home, we'll have our own celebration, okay? And don’t worry about Nicholas. I’ll deal with him.” His eyes hardened at the thought of someone hurting his daughter. Nicholas needed to be dealt with, preferably harshly. He conveniently forgot another situation with his daughter and Nick fought. That was irrelevant now.

“Okay, daddy,” At that moment, Tiffany's cell phone went off. She checked Caller ID. Chrissy. “Chrissy's outside now. I'll see you later tonight.”

Her dad’s eyes softened and he kissed her forehead gently, tucking her hair behind her ears like he always did when he said goodbye. “I'll see you tonight, sweetheart. Have fun with Chrissy.”

“Bye, daddy!” she called, leaving the office and band hall, running for the front door. She needed a double scoop coffee ice cream cone to forget Nick. She hoped Chrissy wouldn't notice the bruise.

Of course Chrissy noticed.

As soon as Tiffany closed the door of Chrissy’s car, the questions started. Why do you have a bruise? What have you been doing? What happened in the scant fifteen minutes that she was gone?

“Just get me an ice cream, and I’ll explain everything.” Tiffany said tiredly, touching her still-icy cheek. Chrissy relented, and the questions stopped as per her friend's request. The rest of the ride was silent as Chrissy drove them to their favorite ice cream parlor.

Once they were both settled, (Chrissy with a root beer float and Tiffany with a double scoop coffee ice cream cone) Tiffany explained what had happened while she was alone with Nick. She noticed that Chrissy’s eyes constantly flicked from her eyes to the livid bruise on her cheek.

“He hurt you?” Chrissy asked disbelievingly. Her grip on the cup tightened as anger coursed through her. Despite the anger, when she reached across the table with her free hand and palpated the bruise, her touch was gentle, almost loving. Tiffany suppressed the urge to flinch as Chrissy’s cold fingers touched her.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hissed, pulling her hand back. Tiffany sighed.

“We'd go to jail. He's not worth it.”

“He hurt you.” Chrissy repeated, voice laced with venom.

“It's not that big of a deal, Chrissy. I'll be fine. My dad will punish him for what he did.”

“That’s not enough. He's been provoking you for far too long. I'm fed up with him. And I know, given the chance, you'd hurt him if you could.” she paused, looking at Tiffany thoughtfully. “What if… I said I'd give you that chance? Would you take it?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“If I gave you the chance to get even with him, would you take it?”

“I… yes… yes, I would.”

Chrissy smirked in a self-satisfied way. “Meet me by the river tonight at 7 PM. I'll give you that chance.”

“Chrissy, what the hell are you going to do?”

Chrissy stood, taking her float in hand. “Come on; I need to prepare some things. By the way, do you know a way to get Nick's number?”

“Yeah, through the student directory, but—”

“Don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything. Just meet me with revenge on your mind.” She motioned to the door. “I'll drive you home.”

Mind swirling with ideas and questions, Tiffany followed her friend out the door.

While Tiffany was at home celebrating with her father, Chrissy made a few phone calls. She collected a favor owed her to insure anything done tonight would not have any negative repercussions on either of them, Tiffany especially. Tiffany didn't need a marred record from doing something that needed to be done. Her contact assured her that any report would be confiscated and a scapegoat found. The cover story was simple. After missing for several days, Nick's body would be found. It would be assumed that Nick was mugged, stabbed several times, then drowned in the nearby river. After agreeing to the story, she hung up with her contact.

Then she called Nick.

The conversation was brief as it was infuriating. She seduced him over the phone, asking him to meet her by the river for some “fun” tonight. She repeatedly told him to tell no one should know where he would be and in return, she'd give him what he wanted. Nick fell for her seduction without questioning why Chrissy, after years of feeling nothing for him but enmity, would ask him to have sex with her. He just assumed Chrissy had “seen the light” and wanted him like every girl did because clearly, he was a sex symbol.

When she hung up, she glared at the phone, mouthing “egotistical bastard” at it. At least now she could finally shut him up. For the moment she pushed away her loathing. She needed to act like she actually wanted Nick. Wishing for his death every five seconds would be detrimental to her plan, and as foolish and unobservant as Nick was, he would notice that she wasn't responding to his attention. She shivered at the thought of Nick touching her. It made her feel filthy at the thought of it. But it had to be done. For Tiffany.

Sighing, she changed into her oldest pair of jeans and a worn shirt. Tucking her cell phone into her back jean pocket, she left the house to meet Nick.

--

“You didn't tell anyone you'd be with me?” she asked coyly as she stroked Nick’s arm, smiling as charmingly as she could. In her mind, she burned with hatred at this, this boy that dared strike her friend! She blinked up at him, fingers reaching up to pet his hair lovingly. His hand clutched at Chrissy’s shirt, pulling up, exposing her pale stomach. She forced the shirt back down, teeth gnashing together as she struggled not to show her true feelings. To hide it, she nuzzled his neck, trying not to gag at the scent of him.

“No, I didn't.” he panted against her cheek, hand tangled in her hair. He tried to kiss her, but she pulled back slightly.

“Inside, come on,” she suggested, pushing him towards the room. She needed to get this started before Nick really did kiss her. Besides, Tiffany was waiting, and Chrissy was eager to drop the guise of would-be lover. With Nick leaning against the door, hands roaming upwards much to Chrissy’s disgust, she turned the doorknob, and Nick fell hard on the floor. Before he could make a sound, she followed him in and shut the door.

Absolute darkness.

Tiffany flipped a switch, bringing light flooding into the room. She glared down at Nick, the bruise on her face startling vivid. Nick, who had automatically turned towards the source of light, blinked up at her, trying to figure out what was going on. First he was engaged with Chrissy and now, what? As he lay there, Chrissy made her move. She kicked Nick in the stomach, forcing him to break eye contact with Tiffany. As he curled up to protect his stomach, Chrissy turned him over and grabbed his arms. Her knee was firmly wedged in the small of his back, allowing him no room to retaliate. A whimper escaped him as the knee dug in.

“That was for touching me.” she hissed at him before turning to her friend. “Tiffany,” she called, eyes flicking upwards, “hand me the cuffs.” A smirk flitted across Tiffany’s face as she turned to grab the handcuffs.

“Catch,” she said, tossing the silver cuffs. All of Chrissy’s weight transferred to her knee as she reached for the handcuffs. Blinded by the sudden pain, Nick didn’t seize the only chance he’d have all night to fight back. As the pressure lessened, he noticed that he could no longer feel the warmth of Chrissy’s hold on his wrists. It had been replaced by cold, unforgiving metal.

“Listen carefully, Riles,” Chrissy hissed. With her hands free, she dug her fingers into the fleshy sides of Nick’s neck, making him wince. “I’ve never liked you. Neither has Tiffany. But I tolerated your existence because you technically have done nothing to me but be an exasperating little suck-up. But you crossed a line by hitting my friend.” The pressure increased exponentially and oxygen was cut off from the boy beneath her.

“You hit her. And you expected to get away with it. You sweet-talked her father right in front of her afterwards. And you expected to get away with it. You little shit,” Nick choked under her, his hands twitching uselessly behind him. Black dots riddled his vision.

“Chrissy,” Tiffany warned, “not too far. Not yet. I want a turn too.”

Nick’s vision suddenly cleared as Chrissy let go. His chest heaved, bringing precious oxygen into his lungs. Chrissy looked down at Nick’s head of mousy brown hair in revulsion. Half-dragging, half-prodding, she forced him to sit in a chair in the center of the room. As soon as he sat down, Chrissy cuffed his legs to the chair.

“He’s all yours, Tiffany.”

Tiffany walked up slowly, her eyes appraising her long-time rival before her. There was some kind of sweet revenge in all of this.

Her voice was low as she hissed out the words, “I’ve hated you since I first met you. You get anything you want by sucking up to people. But then you talk crap about them behind their backs. You completely charmed…” She spat out the word like it was covered in poison, “My dad into thinking you were a nice kid. What a load of bull.” With her diatribe done, she curled her fist and punched Nick in about the same place where he had punched her.

Chrissy was silent as she watched her usually calm and laid-back friend rip into Nick. She mentally took notes on Nick’s reaction. He didn’t seem as scared as Chrissy wanted him to be. He seemed to think that once Tiffany was done, they’d let him go. Not likely. She needed to kill any hope he had. Then the fun would begin.

“Scream as loud as you wish, Riles. No one is going to help you.” She stepped up beside Tiffany and touched her shaking fist, calming the other girl slightly. As Tiffany’s fist uncurled, she continued, “In fact, you’re not going to be free of us.” Her eyes glinted as a smirk settled on her lips. “I’m a bad enemy to have, Riles. But you’re never going to learn that lesson. You’re going to die.” Nick’s eyes widened in fear as the full impact of Chrissy’s words hit him.

With her job accomplished, she turned to her friend “He’s all yours.” She whispered into Tiffany’s ear. “Tell me when you’re done.” She slid away from the two and sat down on the floor to watch the show.

Tiffany clenched her fist again. With hate in her eyes, she socked him just to the left of his mouth. A grunt of surprise escaped his lips. Tiffany grabbed Nick’s shirt and pulled. When Nick turned his head to glare at her, she slapped him hard.

“Let me set the rules right now, Nick. If you make any sound at all, I will slap you. Understand?” She snarled at him. Nick looked vacantly over her shoulder, not acknowledging Tiffany at all. She let go of his shirt and slammed her fist into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. Dazedly he nodded. “Good,” she purred through her clenched teeth.

Her hand slid to his left arm, just above the elbow. She squeezed the pressure point there hard. Nick screamed. Grinning slightly at his obvious pain, Tiffany slapped him again. “I thought I told you not to make a sound.” She reminded him as he struggled not to cry from the pain. “And that was only one point. I wonder what would happen if I do… this.” She dug the heel of her hand into the region between his nose and lips and pushed up. Nick’s feet kicked out as far as he could, vainly trying to hit her. A sob escaped his lips. Again, he was slapped as punishment. His cheek was bright red from the abuse.

“Hey, Chrissy,” Tiffany said jauntily, “come over here and help me.” Chrissy obediently joined Tiffany, who was pressing down with her thumbs on another one of Nick’s pressure points, just under his shoulders on both sides. He stifled a whimper to prevent another slap. “Break his fingers for me?” she asked.

Chrissy raised an eyebrow at Tiffany’s cavalier attitude at breaking bones. Nevertheless, she went behind Nick and tapped the handcuffs. Nick’s hands were twisting around, trying to break the cuffs. “Which hand?”

“Right,”

“How many?”

“Three,”

“Which ones?”

“Thumb, one and four,” Chrissy nodded, the numbers making sense to her as well as Nick. He struggled against his bonds, begging them to stop in a high pitched whine. Tiffany slapped him again, her blunt nails digging into his abused cheek.

“Shut up, Nick.” She said cheerily.

Chrissy wasted no time. She bent Nick’s pinky finger, back with an audible snap. Nick’s cries increased in volume. Tiffany slapped him once but let him gasp out his pleas. They went ignored.

“Slower, Chrissy,” Tiffany coaxed. “I want him to feel it.”

As suggested, Chrissy took her time bending back Nick’s index finger. He whimpered pitifully, hand struggling stymied by his broken fourth finger. He sobbed weakly as his index finger snapped painfully.

“Slower,” Tiffany said again, pressing harshly on the first pressure point she used though on the right arm. He screamed in pain, his arm on fire. Tiffany let him scream without punishment.

Chrissy slowly twisted Nick’s thumb, deaf to his cries. It gave out and broke with a sense of finality. Nick’s pleas where reduced to whimpers. Tiffany grinned at her friend, giddy with her revenge coursing through her.

“Thanks, Chrissy,”

“Anytime,” she replied, glancing at Nick with a smirk on her lips. She squeezed Nick’s hand, taking care not to avoid his broken fingers. His body flinched as he sobbed with pain. Tiffany slapped him yet again.

“God fucking damn you bitches to hell!” Nick screamed at them, tears streaming from his eyes. Chrissy’s eyes flashed as she took a half step back. Her foot connected with his right hand, metacarpals crunching audibly. The bones would never realign the same way. Nick’s band career was finished. He’d never play the clarinet again.

“Tsk, tsk, Riles,” Chrissy scolded, eyes alight with malice. “You shouldn't use such profanity in front of my innocent friend.” She reached forward and twisted his broken first finger. A high wail of pain from Nick made her smile. She patted his hair with her other hand then gripped a handful of it, tugging his head back so he could see her, simultaneously squeezing all his fingers, grinding the bones together. “Tiffany doesn't want to hear you screaming.” she reminded him as he gasped in pain. “But don't worry. When it's my turn, you can scream all you want.”

Tiffany regarded her friend with a strange look. “You're enjoying this more than I am, and I really, really hate this guy. Why?”

“He hit you. For that alone, I want him writhing and screaming, as I punish him.” She met her friend's eyes squarely. “No one hurts you.” Tiffany nodded in understanding. Chrissy looked back at the sobbing boy and tapped his palm.

“If you think is bad, Riles, you're not going to enjoy my turn.” With one decisive move, she twisted Nick's right wrist until it gave out with a sickening crack. Nick's wails once more brought a sadistic smile to Chrissy's lips.

“Having fun, Chrissy?”

“Plenty,” she replied, squeezing Nick's wrist slightly, listening to Nick’s whimpers. She let go reluctantly and motioned to Tiffany. “All yours again,”

“No!” Nick cried, sobbing desperately. “Please let me go! I promise never to tell anyone! Just let me go!”

“No.” Tiffany struck his stomach, watching him curl up as best he could, trying to protect himself. “You don’t keep secrets, and we can’t trust you. Since we started this, we’re going to finish it. You can beg, plead, and cry all you want. You’re not getting away. Nothing’s going to save you now.”

By the time Tiffany had momentarily satisfied her thirst for revenge, Nick had acquired several more bruises and a split lip along with his broken bones. Nick’s voice had gotten raspier and raspier as he pleaded and bribed. Chrissy had only stood by and watched her friend tear into Nick time and time again.

“Your turn, Chrissy,” Tiffany said calmly, turning away from Nick. Chrissy grabbed a knife off the desk with the lamp and stepped forward, spinning it deftly in one hand. Using the very tip of the knife, she serenely traced a path from the corner of Nick’s left eye to his jaw. Nick’s eyes were wide with fear as he stopped breathing, trying to avoid being cut.

With a sudden vicious move, Chrissy’s blade had scratched a long wound on his left cheek. It wasn’t very deep since Chrissy had checked the strike at the last second. But it was deep enough to start leaking blood. Nick, who had automatically closed his eyes reflexively, twitched as blood dripped down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. Chrissy moved the knife so that some blood fell on the tip it. She rotated it, letting the blood trail along the surface of the knife.

“I can never use this knife again. It’s touched your filthy blood.” She held the blade right in front of Nick so he could see his eyes’ reflections through the thin film of blood on the cold metal. “This knife will bring you within an inch of your life, Riles.” She said callously, gripping the knife tightly.

“I… haven't done anything to hurt you… Why are you doing this to me?” Nick whimpered, his struggles lacking any power.

“I have only one thing tying me to this world.” she hissed lowly so her friend wouldn't hear, “That is Tiffany. I'd do anything and everything for her. You hurt her. So I'm taking my revenge. I'm doing this for her.”

While Chrissy had been talking, the knife in her hand had crept toward Nick's throat. In a sudden motion, not unlike before, Chrissy grabbed a handful of Nick's hair and pulled back, exposing his throat to her. His Adam's apple bobbed with every convulsive swallow.

“You're going to die, Riles. If you tell Tiffany what I just said, you'll die slowly and incredibly painfully. Ever had stomach acid eat at you from the inside out? I can do that. Keep your mouth shut and your death will be quicker. Understand?”

“Yes,” he croaked. Chrissy nodded in reply, and the knife left Nick's throat only to be stabbed into his left thigh, right above his knee. Chrissy ignored the scream and twisted the knife just slightly. More cries erupted from Nick's mouth. She pulled the knife free, watching his blood escape the wound. The whole four inches of Chrissy's knife was covered in fresh blood.

In the background, Tiffany winced. She'd never seen this side of her friend before; the vindictive, bloodthirsty person before her had never shown herself previously. Tiffany didn't know whether to be scared of Chrissy's darker side or relieved that Chrissy was her ally.

“How much blood can someone lose before it's impossible to bring them back without a transfusion?” Chrissy wondered idly, eyes flicking from the knife in her hand to the gaping wound in Nick's thigh. She wiped the blade clean on his pants, leaving a bloody stripe on the material.

As Nick gasped through the pain, he hazily saw Tiffany staring at his blood pooling below his leg in shock, biting her lip. Desperate for the torture to stop, he reached out for Tiffany's sympathy.

“Come on, Tiffany,” Nick implored raspingly, “you don't want to be doing this to me. You've gotten your revenge. Let me go! You don't want to kill me, right? That's blood on your hands. What would your father say?”

“Shut up about my dad!” Tiffany screamed at him, closing the short distance between them. She delivered a sharp slap to his cheek. Her nails sunk into the cut there, making him writhe in pain.

There was a clatter as the knife dropped to the floor. Chrissy pulled her friend away from Nick. With Chrissy holding her wrists, Tiffany sank her nails into her friend's hands. Chrissy gritted her teeth at the stinging pain but otherwise made no reaction.

When Tiffany realized what she was doing, she quickly let go, collapsing against her friend. Chrissy pulled her close, letting Tiffany cling to her. She didn't let Tiffany see the deep crescent-shaped gouges in her hand. Some of the marks bled sluggishly. Chrissy didn't say anything; she just let her friend lean against her. She listened to Tiffany breathe raggedly, trying to calm herself down.

“It's okay.” she whispered, “I'm here with you. I'll always be here for you.”

“Aww, isn't this lovely?” Nick spat, cheek bleeding again. “You two should be lovers; you act so much like it.”

Chrissy let go of her friend, glaring furiously at Nick. He summoned the energy to smirk at her, waiting for her retaliation. He hoped the death she dealt him would be swift. But before Chrissy could retrieve the knife off the floor by his occupied chair, Tiffany emitted a stifled yell and flew at Nick.

Before Nick could even blink, Tiffany was strangling him, fingers digging painfully into the sides of his neck. He choked, hands jerking behind him, much to his detriment. His right hand stabbed with pain; his thigh screamed at him; blood dripped down his cheek. Nick was in a bad way. The pressure on his throat was relentless; Tiffany was so intent on making him pay for his remark.

“Tiffany,”

She ignored Chrissy's call to concentrate on silencing Nick for good. She hated his voice. She hated the way he walked. She hated the way he expected everything to fall into his lap. But most of all, she hated how he got away with it all. Now he wouldn't.

“Tiffany, get off of him!” Chrissy dragged her friend away from Nick, fighting to keep a grip on her. “I'll deal with him!” With both hands gripping Tiffany's belt loops on opposite sides, she succeeded in holding her back by pinning Tiffany's arms to her body. “I don't want his blood on your hands.” she whispered into Tiffany's ear.

“I don't care!” Tiffany forced through clenched teeth, “I want him dead!” Chrissy tightened her grip, crossed arms straining visibly against Tiffany's arms. Nick savored his momentary triumph in silence, delaying his inevitable death.

“It's okay, Tiffany.” Chrissy said soothingly, fingers stroking what skin on Tiffany's arms she could reach. Gradually, as Chrissy talked softly to her friend, Tiffany calmed down, the tenseness in her body bleeding away from her until she was limp in her friend's arms. Chrissy let go, moving her arms to Tiffany's waist, hugging her from behind.

“I'll deal with Riles like I said I would. I'll do anything for you, okay?” She whispered, her arms still clasped around Tiffany's waist.

“Okay,” she replied, eyes closed. Chrissy squeezed one more time before letting go. She made sure Tiffany was settled comfortably on the floor and turned to Nick, eyes blazing.

By then, the wound on Nick's leg had stopped bleeding profusely and was reduced to a trickle. Picking up her knife, Chrissy advanced on Nick. Her knuckles were white where they clenched the knife. The small gouges on her hands were a furious red that stood out against Chrissy's bloodless knuckles.

“You bastard.” Chrissy hissed. When she was close enough, she plunged the knife into the opposite leg in approximately the same place. The knife sunk deep into his flesh, she twisted the handle violently, jerking outwards underneath the skin, shredding his thigh muscle. She only shifted the knife more as Nick writhed in pain, screaming hoarsely for mercy. She gave him no reprieve, taking the knife out and stabbing his stomach. His mouth opened to issue a gurgling scream. His whole body twitched helplessly, trying to arch away from the pain.

Tiffany sat in the background, watching Chrissy. She couldn't see anything her friend was doing; Chrissy had angled her body so Tiffany only saw her back. But Tiffany could hear the screams and didn't need to see Chrissy's actions to know that Nick was being stabbed. Part of her quailed at the thought of hurting another human; another part of her cried out in sadistic pleasure that her long-time rival was finally being put in his place. She hugged her knees to her chest and decided to let Chrissy do what needed to be done.

“Your death is going to be anything but quick, Riles. I'm going to drag this out as long as you can stand. You'll be begging me to end it before long, I assure you. And you deserve this pain, Riles; you know that very well.” she informed him lowly so Tiffany wouldn't hear. Nick's only response was a pathetic whimper as he stared up into the face of his soon-to-be-murderer.

With Chrissy's promise, she began again. She greedily drank in all of Nick's hoarse screams as she made him bleed for every wrong he'd committed against Tiffany. Tiffany watched her friend continuously torture Nick as she struggled with what to do. Should she stop Chrissy? She she let Chrissy keep going?

When Nick's cry of pain was suddenly cut off as Chrissy dropped the knife to wrap her hands around his neck, Tiffany made her decision and stood.

“Chrissy,” she called, reaching for her friend. Chrissy immediately let go of Nick and stepped back. Silently, Tiffany scanned over the bound Nick, her mouth a thin line. Chrissy stood off to her side, fingering the knife she had picked up. She didn't look at Tiffany or Nick, just the bloodied blade in her hands.

Nick panted slightly, trying to catch his breath. He was pale and drawn, body shaking ever so slightly like he was about to go into shock. He looked mistrustfully at Tiffany, eyes flicking between the two girls before him, unsure which one to keep an eye on.

Blood still dripped from his wounds, some drying on his clothes, some trickled down his limbs. There was so much blood that it sickened Tiffany, unaccustomed to such torture. Turning to Chrissy, she grabbed her wrist. Chrissy looked at her friend, knife loose in the opposite hand. Chrissy's fingers had traces of Nick's blood on them.

“Stop, please,” Tiffany said softly. Chrissy's gaze snapped up to meet Tiffany's. She held very still as Tiffany tightened her grip on her wrist. “Please,” she reiterated.

Still high on the thrill of hurting Nick, Chrissy snapped at Tiffany. “Queasy, are you? Can't stand the sight of blood?”

Tiffany shook her head, not letting up the pressure on Chrissy's wrist. She could feel her friend's pulse beneath her fingers. She reached out and grabbed Chrissy's other wrist, shaking it so that Chrissy lost her grip on the knife. As it fell to the floor, Tiffany pulled her friend toward her and hugged her, moving her hands to wrap around her friend's waist. A little more than stunned, Chrissy didn't hug back. Her bloodstained hands dangled out behind Tiffany's back, not touching her at all. She didn't move at all even though she wanted to return the hug. She didn't want Nick's blood touching Tiffany at all.

“Please stop, Chrissy.” Tiffany whispered, “Just finish it so we can go home.”

“I thought you wanted him hurt.” Chrissy replied in the same soft voice.

“I've seen enough.”

“So innocent...”

“Maybe. Just end it now.”

“You have to let go first. And I don't think you want to watch. Get in my car and wait for me there.”

Tiffany squeezed her friend before slipping out of Chrissy's nonexistent hold, avoiding her friend's bloodied hands. Chrissy watched Tiffany leave, turning back to Nick when the door had clicked shut.

“Tiffany doesn't want me hurting you anymore. I find that rather odd seeing how you're just an annoyance. But I'll do as she said.”

Nick watched Chrissy uncuff his wrists and ankles, whimpering every so often when he was jarred to hard. He wished he could fight back now that he was free, but he had lost too much blood and all the fight had left him.

Chrissy ushered Nick out the door, pushing him forward regardless of his ruined knees. She left everything behind in the room except her knife since her contact had assured her everything in the room would be destroyed, leaving no evidence. The room itself, a temporary building, was to be demolished soon after and built anew.

Nick stumbled along tiredly, knowing he was going to his death. Every step or so, when Nick refused to budge, Chrissy would needle his back with the knife. Soon, his back was riddled with small holes where trickles of blood stained his shirt.

“Nearly over, Riles.” Chrissy said jauntily, having finally made it to the riverside. As Nick rested his ruined body, she kneeled next to Nick and with one bloodied hand covering his mouth, Chrissy stabbed his chest, puncturing his left lung. The scream died in his throat as oxygen left his body through the small hole. Chrissy let him wheeze a while, going back to throw the knife into the unoccupied room.

Nick was dying slowly as his lung filled up with blood, the other lung straining to keep the body alive. Chrissy nudged the punctured lung, making him choke feebly. She watched him flounder, soaking in his dying gasps. She leaned down again and smirked at him.

“Good riddance, Riles.”

Straightening, she nudged Nick towards the river, not stopping until he was at the very edge. Nick looked blearily up Chrissy, trying to summon the energy to glare at her a final time. Every part of him ached. He managed to grit his teeth in defiance before Chrissy forced his head into the water and waited. Her other hand went to Nick's broken wrist and twisted. Immediately, bubbles rose to the surface as the pain traveled through him, immobilizing his body.

She didn't have to wait long after that. Nick's body, with no oxygen in it, sank into the river when she let go. There he would rot, erasing any trace of her and Tiffany's fingerprints. She washed her hands off in the river, drying them on her shirt. Her work was done. Time to get back to Tiffany and assure her that she didn't act like this all the time.

Tiffany stared straight ahead when Chrissy opened the driver side door. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Chrissy got into the car silently, waiting for her friend to speak first. She didn't want to antagonize Tiffany.

“I'm never going to ask you to do that again.”

“I won't ask you to.”

Tiffany turned towards her friend, eyes weary. She reached out for Chrissy's hand which the other girl took gratefully. Nothing had changed. They gripped hands, fingers interlocked, reassuring each other silently that they'd always be friends.

“Let's go home.” Tiffany suggested.

Their hands parted. Chrissy took the wheel, and Tiffany fiddled with the radio.

I found a reason for me
to change who I used to be.
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you.

“The Reason by Hoobastank,” Chrissy said softly. As the song continued, she sang along. Tiffany bit her lip as she remembered her sophomore and junior year of high school and the events that occurred. The song seemed like a kick to the stomach as she listened to Chrissy sing.

End

This story only serves as a setting to show the depth of the girls' relationship. The rest of the series will not be like this. The song is an allusion to a future installment of the Chrissy and Tiffany Saga. Thanks for reading!