Chapter Text
Ethan pushed through the crowd, cursing, desperately shoving people out of the way to reach Mindy. The girl was curled up at the other end of the carriage, and she was bleeding pretty damn badly by the looks of it. As his breaths sped up and panic, he gripped Mindy. “Mindy… oh fuck. Oh fuck,” He winced as he surveyed the deep slashes and stab wounds along her stomach. “We have to get off…” He paused, before yelling “HELP”
He scrambled off the train, avoiding all the horrified looks and attention he hated to much, carrying most of Mindy’s weight. Once he’d made it safely off the train, Mindy still held close to him, groaning and yelling in pain, he settled her onto the ground, trying not to aggravate her injuries any more. He tried to calm his heavy breathing to no avail, feeling the panic rise within him.
Fuck fuck fuck oh fucking shit fuck fuck fuck dammit fuck shit.
Unsure what to do, he wildly looked around, for anything that might help even slightly. “Somebody call 911!!” He begged, trying to stop himself from fully falling into panic.
Mindy’s gaze, even through the pain, was filled with confusion and awe and upset. Ethan winced, hating the fact that even through all this, no one trusted him. “Goddamn it…” Mindy groaned, letting out a hiss of pain, “I got it wrong again.”
Yes Mindy, you did get it fucking wrong, I’m not a freaking phsyco, Ethan thought bitterly. Why did no one trust him? What did he do?
By the time help came, Mindy was barely conscious, yet when Ethan offered to stay with her, she refused, mumbling something about how he had to help the others. In the moment Ethan had been so confused, so fucking scared that he’d just nodded, whimpering slightly.
And then somehow, he ended up at the theatre. It was just him outside, everyone else already having gone in, he assumed. His breaths were uneven as he tried to steady his shaking hands.
And then he went inside.
It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. No one even looked injured, all of them standing together in a small group on the upper level of the theatre. As he stepped to join them, Wayne, his dad, yelled, “Step back kid.”
Ethan winced, taking a step back, closer to the edge than the others. His dad knows that Ethan is innocent, surely.
The boy watched as his father kept his gaze fully – and dangerously – on Ethan, however, addressing the group when he spoke. “I did… some digging.” Wayne smiled maniacally. “This boy, was the brother of a certain someone.”
That was the first thing that made sense to Ethan tonight. Yes, he knew his brother, but his dad and his sister had known him even better, why was he getting the blame for this?
His dad spoke again, all eyes on him. “Richie Kirsch.”
And then everyone who hadn’t already been staring at him with eyes of hatred, was. Ethan was shaking now, fully. “Fuck you dad.” Everyone looked shocked at that. Of course they did, no one knew that he had even known him before… all this. Wayne’s eyes filled with rage. “You are no son of mine, Ethan Kirsch.”
Ethan tensed at that name. The name he hated so much. The name he associated with his terrifying brother, and his father who didn’t even try and stop it when Richie almost killed his younger brother every day. Ethan could feel the tears in his eyes, and the constant shaking of his body. “Clearly,” Wayne continued, “Someone loved a certain brother a little to much. Needed to get revenge on the people who murdered poor Richie.”
“Bullshit, you know I hated Richie. He ruined me. And Quinn.”
His father shook his head slowly, “Sweet boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Ethan was sobbing. “Dad- you know I didn’t kill anyone.” He sobbed, as his dad aligned the gun with his head. “Please.” He added, whimpering, and definitely not sounding very convincing.
Then Wayne moved closer. Slightly. Ethan saw his dad lower the gun, pointing it at Ethan’s stomach, heard the click of the trigger, and then the bang of the gun, and then he felt the pain, like a fire on his abdomen, making him curl up, gasping more heavily than before, screaming and sobbing. He desperately pressed against the wound, trying to stop the blood that was soaking his shirt. Fuck it hurt.
And then his dad changed, tilting his head to the side mockingly. “I know.”
And then, Ethan, through a world of pain, felt the knife go down his throat. He tried to scream, but no sound came out other than a weak gurgle through the blood. It was impossible to breathe, thick red pouring out of his mouth. There were words all around him but he couldn’t catch any of them. He should be on the ground, but there was a hand around his throat, holding him up. The pain was so binding, and fucking shit everything hurt. He didn’t even feel the knife go into his shoulder 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, times, didn’t even notice as he blindly grabbed his attackers weapon, shoving it into what was hopefully their stomach, or their heart.
And then he finally felt something through the pain, felt as he fell, tumbling down over the balcony, and landing with a crack, on the ground.