When Luke returned to the apartment, he didn't expect to hear noises coming from it. As he stepped towards the door, he realized that it was music.

"But life still goes on . . ."

Luke raised his eyebrows and pressed his ear against the door.

"I can't get used to living without, living without, living without you, by my side. I don't want to live alone . . ."

Luke then leaned away and started unlocking the front door.

"God knows, got to make it own my own . . . so baby can't you see, I've got to break free . . . I've got to break free, I want to break free, yeah . . ."

Once he opened the door, he immediately noticed Damien, sitting still on the couch while the music blared from their cheap speakers.

"Hey," Luke greeted quietly, almost a whisper.

Damien gave him a brief nod, but didn't look at him.

"I want, I want, I want to break free . . . ."

As the song neared its end, Luke headed towards the kitchen to put away the groceries. By the time he reached the kitchen cabinets, the apartment was filled with a tense silence.

"So," Luke sighed out as he sorted through the groceries, "I wasn't sure which bread you wanted, so I got white bread."

"That's fine. It's up to you."

Luke glanced at the floor and noticed that the bottles of bleach were sitting out.

"Okay," he continued, now pushing aside the groceries. "I don't think I'm going to cook anything tonight. Do you want to order something?"

"I don't know. I'm feeling kind of indecisive."

Luke then glanced at the knife block and noticed that one of the knives was missing.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, his hands now clutching the grocery bags. "Maybe we should go out to eat?"

"Maybe, but I think we're going to have a busy night."

Luke then glanced at Damien and noticed that he was staring at the bathroom door.

"Why?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Because I killed Helen."

Luke froze. Then he darted to the bathroom and was greeted by a giant smear of blood on the floor and Helen's lifeless body shoved into the bathtub.

Helen was dead.

Luke froze again. There he was, once again, standing in a bathroom, not moving, not breathing, just staring at the corpse of someone he cared about.

Helen was fucking dead.

"What do you want to do, Luke?" Damien asked.

Luke shook himself out of his daze and glanced back at Damien, now getting up from the couch.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Damien continued. "So, I'm asking you."

"You're asking me now?  You didn't think to ask before you killed Helen?!"

Luke glared at Damien, now noticing that he was only a few feet away.

"Helen got in my way," Damien said with a shrug, "so I had to kill her."

"That's not a good excuse to kill someone!"

Luke stumbled away from the bathroom and turned towards Damien.

"I don't really need an excuse to kill someone," Damien replied.

"Then why haven't you killed me?!"

Luke pulled his hands into fists as he stomped towards him.

"I don't know, Luke. I don't know fucking know. That's why we're having this stupid fucking conversation while her stupid fucking corpse rots in the tub—"

"Shut up!" Luke yelled as he swung his fist at Damien's face.

It hurt when his punch landed, but he didn't fucking care.

"Shit," Damien exhaled, before his lips curled up into a disconcerting grimace. "You can punch me all you want, but that won't bring her back—"

"I said shut up!" Luke yelled again as he lunged towards Damien's abdomen.

It hurt when they both fell and impacted the ground, but he still didn't fucking care.

"Did you do it?" Damien asked between gritted teeth, his grimace slowly shifting into a bitter scowl. "Did you bring her back to life?"

"Fucking shut up!" Luke screamed as he swung both of his fists at Damien's chest.

He tensed when his felt the momentum of his punch suddenly stop. And then he tensed even more he realized that Damien was gripping his wrists. And in one swift movement, Damien yanked his arms away, kneed him in the stomach, and tossed him against the wall.

"What do you wanna do Luke?" Damien hissed as he pushed himself onto his feet. "You wanna ignore this shit? Pretend like this never happened?"

"Fuck you," Luke spat out as he started scrambling down the hallway.

Before he could move a few feet away, Damien grabbed his ankle and yanked him back. As soon as he felt his body sliding against tile, Luke started kicking at Damien's hands until his heel slammed against Damien's fingers and loosened the grip around his ankle. Luke then pushed himself off the ground, nearly tripping over his own feet, and rushed towards front door.

"Or do you wanna run away?" Damien called out as he followed after him. "Move to a new town? Start a brand new life?"

"Fuck off!" Luke yelled back as he nearly reached the front door.

Just as Luke reached for the door knob, Damien reached him first. Luke felt a sudden and powerful shove that slammed him against the door, the impact nearly crushing his chest and forcing the the air out of his lungs. Luke gasped out, unsure if it was out of pain or shock or desperation, and carefully turned his head back to look at Damien.

"Or do you want me to hurt you?" Damien muttered with a rumbling resonance that sent a shiver up Luke's spine. "Just end it all right now?"

As Luke slowly turned his entire body to face Damien, a metallic glint caught the corner of his eye. Sitting on top of a pile of mail, resting on top of the makeshift side table near the door, was one of the missing kitchen knives.

"Dam . . ." Luke whispered out, his chest still trying to regain its breath. "Please."

A range of emotions flashed across Damien's face—confusion, guilt, arousal. And then his face eventually settled on a sly grin and a ravenous stare. For a few seconds, they stood tense and still. But when Luke's hand twitched towards the knife, Damien lunged towards him. Without even looking, without any hesitation, Luke grabbed the knife and swung it towards Damien. He closed his eyes when he felt the heavy impact against his hand and then slowly opened one eye when he heard a choked gasp escape from Damien.

And for the first time, he saw fear in Damien's eyes. When he glanced down, he saw the knife wedged between Damien's ribs, angled towards his heart.

"Fuck," Damien coughed out. He stumbled back and dropped onto the floor.

Luke gaped at the sight of blood slowly trickling out of Damien's wound.

"No, no, no, no, no," Luke gasped as he reached towards Damien.

"Fuck," Damien sighed out as he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the knife.

Luke's entire body started trembling. "No, no, no, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to."

Damien shook his head, his hand still gripped around the knife. "'Course not."

Luke's body continue to tremble. He wanted to move, towards Damien, away from Damien, anywhere, but he couldn't stop fucking trembling.

"No, no!" he managed to gasp out. "I have to call an ambulance, I have to call someone, I have to do something—"

"You can't save me," Damien hissed out.

"Yes, I can!"

"No," Damien stated, staring intensely at Luke. "You can't save me."

Luke slowly stopped trembling once he realized what Damien truly meant.

"You . . . you are such a fucking asshole, Damien."

Damien grinned, a genuine, eye-wrinkling, teeth-showing grin. "It's not my fault that you're such a fucking dumbass, Luke."

And in one swift movement, Damien yanked the knife out of his ribs and fell onto his back. And all Luke could do was stand there and watch Damien bleed to death. Blood poured of the wound, almost endlessly. His chest heaved rapidly until it slowed and slowed and slowed into stillness. His eyes were trained at Luke until they rolled back and glazed over. And all Luke could do was watch him bleed to death.

Luke collapsed against the door behind him and stared at Damien's lifeless body. He furiously wiped the tears from his eyes, refusing to let his final image of Damien be blurred. He frantically searched his brain for some kind of answer, a solution, a response to this mess, but only one phrase lingered in his mind: Until there's nothing left . . .