Wink Murder #2

[Griffin Sosario]

New game!!! The killer has been notified and our detective is Astin. Have fun!

[Sophia Marianne]

Sophia lay in a bed in the hospital wing. The nurse had gone to get some medicine for her. It was dark... And quiet. There was nobody else about. On the bedside table, was a tray of beautiful looking cupcakes, each decorated with beauty. It was from someone anonymous student around the school. She didn't even know them, but it was nice of them to bake some goodies for her since she was sick. The smell of the cupcakes filled the room. She was pretty sure the nurse also wanted to take a bite when she placed it on the table earlier. Sophia was tempted to eat one now. Should she?

The beautiful cupcakes seemed to glow with tastiness. Sophia's mouth watered just by looking at them. She picked one up, admiring the decorations on top. She realised there was a card just behind the cupcake she picked up. She placed the cupcake back down and picked up the card, opening the card. Inside was blood coloured hand writing. That scared her a bit, but what scared her most was what was written inside.

"I hope you don't die."

The message chilled her blood. The word die was underlined. 'It's nothing. Maybe the underlined it to make it more... Emphasized that they do not want me to... Pass away?' Still, the cupcakes looked so yummy, she picked it up again. She studied the colours and smelled it. It smelled like... Grapes. Her mouth watered more. Grapes were her favourite flavour. She couldn't resist anymore, card or no card.

It really did taste good, like grapes. The inside looked rainbow coloured and it was really nice. She started seeing things, slowly at first. Greens. Reds. Indigos. They swirled around the room, blurring her eyesight. The cupcake in her hand suddenly looked fluffy and flowery. Almost immediately after the colour effects, her head pounded and her stomach felt like it was ripping apart. Next, it spread to her lungs. She gasped and dropped the cupcake. Her throat closed up and she clawed at it, unable to breathe. Her brain felt like it was too big for her skull.

Her lungs ripped open, then her stomach. Blood and who knows what else flowed out of the giant hole in her stomach. Her ribs could be seen through all the gore. She tried to grab at the intestines that her falling out of her stomach. She screamed at the mess but no sound came out. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her brain grew too big for her skull to handle, cracking under the pressure. Her brain exploded, pieces of flesh, bone and gore splattered onto the walls of the hospital.

Sophia's eyes, rolled towards the doorway just as the nurse came back. The whole school must have heard the ear-splitting shriek.

[Viola Stratford]

Viola washed her hands the porcelain sink, trying to get them to stop shaking. Truthfully, it wasn't helping much. The water was ice cold, as were her hands before she put them under the wrought iron tap. The reason for her trembling was sinister. A murder had been committed in the school, and no one knew who did it. But Viola knew, or, at least she thought she did. Her clues had led her to one person. It was imperative that she get to the Headmaster or another school administrator immediately, and tell them. Her face was pallid in the mirror.

The door to bathroom opened, but Viola didn't pay any attention to it. She was running through a potential conversation in her mind. "Professor, I think I know who is committing these unspeakable acts against the students of Hogwarts." No no, it would never do. It sounded rehearsed and they might think her the culprit. All flustered, she turned around to exit. Someone was standing there already. The person she had guessed as the murdered. Surprised, she narrowed her eyes, and haughtily said, "What the hell are you doing in here? This is the…"

"You know?" a lethal, quiet voice interrupted her. It was a statement more than anything, a beastly wand came out and was leveled at Viola. She didn't know she'd said her conversation out loud.

At that moment, she knew she had guessed right. She fumbled for her wand, but it was far, far too late. A blast of light blinded her, while it felt like she was punched in the face. She opened her eyes and was confused to see the ceiling, surely she wasn't hit hard enough to land on the ground. The she saw the blood. Right above her, on wall and mirror. Some little white jagged stone looking things were embedded in the gore dripping down the wall. She must be hallucinating, she couldn't be that hurt. She didn't feel that hurt. A little dazed, and warm, so warm. But wet. She pulled her head up as much as she could and looked down around. The warmth was her own blood. She tried to scream, but there was nothing but a gurgle and a bubble of blood. Then she saw it. Her jaw. It looked odd, not being connected to a head. Her head. Then it all connected, those stones... Not stones. Teeth. Her teeth.

That was the last time Viola ever fit the pieces into a puzzle.

[Addison Bell]

Addison was sitting outside, too much had been running through her head lately, she needed a little break from everyone, and everything. Staring out at the lake she realized how hot it was, which was odd, it was supposed to be fall. Addison shrugged and let her robe slide down her arms, propping herself onto her elbows she let her head hang, feeling the warmth of the sun in her face.

Random thoughts ran through her mind and she remembered the two girls who had been murdered earlier in the week, two girls, no boys had been killed, but none of the girls had been touched, Addison sighed, "What kind of person would ever do such a thing?" Addison shook her head, taking off her shoes and letting her toes sink into the ground.

A sudden heat begin to form behind her, the sun was moving over the sky, but it shouldn't be that hot, Addison ran a hand across her neck, it was drenched in sweat. She took off the vest she had been wearing, the weather was always such a strange thing.

"You look hot Addison."

Addison rolled her eyes, "Very funny." She turned to see who had said something so stupid, but all she could see were flames, she wanted to hit herself, of course the sun wasn't what was causing the heat, it was the fact that a fire had been started behind her, Addison's eyes widened in shock, slowly she walked away, and turned in time to watch flames from in front of her.

She looked around in panic, hoping to see where the voice had came from, or who was causing this, she ran to her robe, taking out her wand, "Aguamenti!" She watched as the flames grew bigger from the touch of the water.

"Silly girl...Don't you know Fiendfyre isn't put out that easily?"

Addison turned towards the voice, and watched as a gorgeous man laughed at her from the tree above, he winked at her once and pointed his wand at her hand, Addison let out a wailing shriek, and watched as her hand engulfed in flames, she looked up at the boy, her eyes pleading him, staring back into his cold blue eyes, he flashed her a brief smile and she screamed again, feeling her legs burn and her flesh melt, what had she ever done to him?

Addison's body was completely on fire, her hair was no longer there, her skin felt like melted rubber, she rolled her eyes to look up at the boy, he stared back with hatred and she watched as he walked away and left her burning to death.

[Dastan Cross]

((OOC: Advisory! This death is going to be a lot more…er…graphic than some of my others. Not so much for gore or violence, but mostly because of mentions and descriptions of rape, and it may be triggering if you’ve ever had a terrible fear of being buried alive. Just FYI! Enjoy!))

People had been dying.

The talk was all over the school, and security had been raised tenfold to try and figure out who the killer was without any others dying. But Dastan couldn’t think about that at the moment. He’d had another nightmare about Nezam. As always, they came without warning, strong and incapacitating, and he’d be unable to sleep for days afterwards. This time, in the nightmare, he’d been his usual self, but he had lost his leg due to the knee injury that even now was giving him hell, and that made him even weaker.

Worse, Astin had been in the nightmare too. And he’d been forced to watch as Nezam did all of the things he’d done to him to the blonde boy that had somehow managed to become his world.

It was enough to send him reeling into darkness and panic and terror, and so Dastan had left the Slytherin Dungeons and snuck out to the place by the lake that he and Astin had claimed as their own, the one that was close to the Forbidden Forest.

Generally, he would have climbed onto the tree, but with his knee the way it was that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon, so he took a spot on a rock instead, staring up at the starry sky above him and trying to forget about everything. He wished Astin was there.

As Dastan’s attention wandered, however, he was hit with a spell from behind. It wasn’t a physically painful spell, but it sufficed in subduing him, because it was a spell that trapped him in the worst possible nightmare possible. And for Das, the worst imaginable nightmare was particularly horrifying.

He only had a moment to catch a glimpse of his attacker before his body fell to the ground, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Then, the next thing he knew, he was trapped under Nezam’s fat, sweaty body again, and each sensation was real. He felt it as the disgusting creature moved inside of him, violating him, his meaty hands moving along the scar that ran diagonally across his chest just like in the old days.

Dastan bucked and tried to fight him off, and he even felt the distinct physical sensation of flesh hitting flesh, but it did nothing. He was helpless again, completely without any strength to fight off the bastard on top of him. He felt tears sting his eyes; this wasn’t supposed to happen again, and it just kept on going.

And then the scene switched, and he was suddenly trapped in a glass box. On the other side of the glass, he saw Astin, and he was now trapped under Nezam. Dastan felt rage boil inside of him and flung himself at the box, but it didn’t break. He could hear now, hear Astin’s screams for help and pleas for it to end. He watched as Astin’s blue eyes welled with tears and sought out his own gaze, and then he heard the words, “Why did you let this happen?”

Dastan hit the glass even harder, desperate to save Astin, but he couldn’t break the glass, no matter how hard he tried. He was trapped, fucking trapped, and Astin needed him dammit…

And then he realized that he really was encased in a box, physically, and nowhere near Nezam or Astin or anyone. It was a wooden box that was coated in charms to make it impervious to whatever spells or physical hits he aimed at it. Apparently, the attacker hadn’t known to remove Dastan’s wand from his boot, whatever good that did him. This box was clearly enchanted to make it impossible for him to blast it open, magic or no.

As the realization hit him, he fought that much harder, pounding against the box and screaming for the assailant to let him out. The feeling of claustrophobia was very noticeable to Dastan. He could already feel panic rising in his chest.

That increased a million fold when he heard the very distinct sound of dirt hitting the top of the box. He was being buried alive.

Dastan worked desperately to reach down to his wand in his boot. It was difficult, given his recent injuries and the tight fit of the box, but as he struggled and gasped for breath, he finally reached the wand and began trying to cast a spell to get him the hell out of there. He even tried to Apparate, though he’d never done it before. He wasn’t able to move, though. Every time he tried to jump, he felt an almost physical sensation of being snapped back into place. If he tried much harder, he’d Splinch for sure.

Frustrated tears worked their way into his eyes, but he refused to start sobbing. Crying would take up even more of the limited oxygen that was available in the box., and he was quite ashamed to admit that he didn’t know any charms that would make breathing easier. He wished he carried around gillyweed, but really, who did that?

So while things were bleak, there was still hope. Maybe if someone saw what was happening, they’d be able to come and save him. But as time went by, and the dirt on top of the makeshift coffin seemed to be physically weighing him down, Dastan was giving up.

He was trapped. Completely trapped. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and there was no way anyone knew he was out here. Nobody would be able to save him. He was going to die here, alone and terrified and…

And then another wave of that spell from before hit him, and he was ransacked by horrible sensations and memories again, tormented by a waking nightmare so real it may as well have been. He screamed, a cry that was barely human ripping itself out of his lungs, oxygen be damned. He was crying and screaming and pounding against the wood of the coffin. He was no longer in control of his own emotions, his own thoughts, he began clawing futilely at the wood, barely making an indentation in the wood. His fingernails ripped as he struggled, but it was all to no avail.

He could feel it, the oxygen slowly fading out of the coffin as he used it up, hyperventilating not helping matters.

“Help me,” he whined, sounding like a child. He was defeated. He hit the box one more time and then placed his hands over his face, blood trickling from once well-manicured nails. He didn’t want to die like this. Not pathetic and terrified and alone. And he certainly didn’t want to go out without a fight. He was going to get something out to Astin. He had to, and he’d used up all of his panic.

Summoning up the last of his strength, he reached back down to grab his wand, which he’d dropped after seeing how useless it would be, and then held it aloft. He had to think of something. He’d made a spell when he and Astin had been trapped in the labyrinth. He had to think of one now.

“Incendia nuntius,” he croaked out, his voice raw and loud in the small space he was confined in. A fire burned on the end of his wand, and he began writing in the air. He didn’t have the strength for too much, so he just managed a quick message:

“Buried. French Lullaby place. Killed by G. Goodbye. Das.” Dastan had hope that the message would make sense to Astin; as it were, it barely made sense to him. He used his very last breath to blow the message, sending it to his best friend, wherever he was. It would magically materialize in front of him, and wouldn’t fade until they’d firmly gotten the blonde’s attention.

In his head, Dastan also sent a kiss, because he really did enjoy kissing Astin, and then, his eyes closed forever, his mutilated hands falling lightly on top of his chest and his face easing into a fairly placid expression. Astin would come through for him, at least, and with that firmly in mind, he passed on to oblivion.
~*****~

[Astin Descartes]

Light invaded Astin's peaceful slumber. Groaning, he pulled his covers over his head and rolled onto his side; he'd been having the most wonderful dream where the world was perfect. Obsessive as it was, he'd even dreamed of Dastan kissing him that night. He lay there for a while, but he could still physically feel that light there, like a pulsing, magical energy. He didn't know what it was; he only knew that something in him felt that it needed his attention.

With a long-suffering sigh, he pushed the covers back off his face and sat up. The light momentarily blinded him, and he squinted at it. What on earth...? Writing, he realized as his vision cleared.

“Buried. French Lullaby place. Killed by G. Goodbye. Das.”

What could that mean? Astin had never seen a spell like this... He'd never heard of one, either. Did that mean someone had made it? What kind of horrible joke was this? Sure, with the murders lately, it wasn't too outlandish for these sort of pranks... and yet, something about it felt unnervingly real.

Which could only mean...

"Dastan!" Astin gasped. He struggled to get his blankets off, as his feet were suddenly tangled in them. He couldn't even be bothered with his robes tonight; his t-shirt and cotton pants would suffice for now. Dastan needed him. Finally extracting himself from the horrible fabric wrapped around him, Astin grabbed his wand and literally ran out of his room.

He ran all the way to the place between the lake and the forest, where he and Dastan had relaxed. Where Dastan had had that horrible nightmare, and Astin had sung to him French lullabies. That day had been so damned perfect. How could a place so beautiful and wonderful be the same place that something so horrible very well may have happened?

Astin spotted an area of dirt that looked like it had been recently disturbed. Was that where...? He didn't stop to think much more-- he took hold of the oh so convenient shovel that was just metres away and began digging. It wasn't long before his arms ached from the exertion, but he kept digging. He had to know. Was Dastan underneath this dirt? Was Dastan... he couldn't even think the word. It was impossible. Dastan couldn't just be gone. He couldn't be. He couldn't do that to Astin.

Suddenly the metal met wood, and Astin dropped the shovel; he fell to his knees, fingers scrambling to scrape the dirt away from the coffin. Please, he prayed, please let him be okay. He didn't know how long Dastan had been under there. How long had he ignored that light? What if he was just a moment too late? He could have saved Dastan.

Finally, he could pry open the coffin. Astin all but ripped the front of it off in his haste, but what he saw could not be righted.

He was too late.

Astin stared in disbelief at the painfully plastic expression on Dastan's face. It couldn't be over. Not now. They were so damned close to everything being okay again. Dastan couldn't be...

Astin couldn't even cry. He simply felt empty. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. Who could do this? Who could hurt someone like Dastan?

Astin's fingers brushed against Dastan's temple, and he gasped; Dastan was still warm. His hand streaked dirt along Dastan's face, down to his neck. There was no pulse.

"No," Astin breathed, "You can't do this. Wake up. Please, wake up." His fingers gripped onto Dastan's shirt tightly as tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. "This is no time for a nap," he said weakly.

A crunch of leaves alerted Astin to the presence behind him. He wouldn't have noticed it if the sound hadn't echoed loudly in an otherwise silent night. Astin's fingers were immediately clenched around his wand as he jumped to his feet, spinning to face his opponent.

It all made sense now. This was the only person it could have been. All the clues fit. It had to be him.

The broken feeling he'd felt early had nothing on the rage that suddenly overtook him. He'd fought so hard for Dastan. He'd risked his life and sanity and general well-being countless times to keep Das safe, and now it had been taken from him. Dastan had made him do things he'd never done before, feel things he'd never known existed, and now that was gone. Dastan was gone.

But they were going to regret it, just like Astin regretted not being with Dastan. Astin regretted ignoring the light for a while, not staying out later with Dastan for rounds, not ever letting him know how he really felt. Now he couldn't, and the person who had done this would feel his pain.

That person would know the true meaning of pain. Astin would make sure of it.

"Expelliarmus!" Astin called, before the intruder could do anything else. He caught the wand in his hand and held onto it tightly; he was going to hurt this person for ever thinking they could get away with hurting Dastan.

"You bastard," Astin said lowly, levelling his wand at the murderer, "You are going to pay. I trusted you. But you..." Astin choked; tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back. Dastan's death wouldn't go unavenged. It couldn't. Astin wasn't going to let this happen.

He'd sworn he wouldn't let anything happen to Dastan. He'd failed at that. But he could make sure that this psycho didn't touch anyone else ever again. Astin could take him out. And he would, gladly.

"Don't you dare move, Griffin," he said. The threat of death laced every word. He was close to breaking already. A simple thing such as defiance of this order could easily cause him to do horrible things to Griffin. Things that would make what Dastan had felt seem like a pleasant retreat. Things that would make him regret even thinking about hurting Dastan.

But he'd start with a proper confession.

[Griffin Sosario]

"You bastard. You are going to pay. I trusted you. But you...Don't you dare move, Griffin."

Griffin's wand flew out of his hand. It turned and twisted through the air before landing in the hand of the last person he wanted to see. Before he knew what was happening, his own wand was pointed at his face. He raised his arms in self defense.

"Astin, calm down. You have to listen to me. You don't understand. I had to kill them. I just had to find someone to test my methods on. I couldn't just go and kill Dastan blindly. At first I thought the best way to go about it was poison. That's where Sophia came into play. She was my first test subject, but she died too quickly. The, I thought a simple spell would do the trick. What, when I tried it on Viola, there was too much of a mess. Then I found this spell that causes an unstoppable fire. I tried it out on Addison, but she screamed too loud. I was nearly caught that time.

But, then I finally decided on the perfet way to kill him. I could bury him alive. That way, if he screamed, no one would hear him. And that way, clean-up was a breeze. All I had to do was cover up the hole and walk away. The only downside was I was covered in mud afterwards. So, now I bet you want to know why I killed him, huh?

Well, remember that first day at Hogwarts at the feast? You and me were well n the way to becoming good friends. But that fucking Slytherin asshole stole you from me! You were MY friend, and he just took you away. And I saw you both kiss right in front of me. How could you? Well, it doesn't even matter now. Dastan is out of the way, so we can just pick up where we left off."

Griffin put his hands down and took a careful step forward. He held out his arms toward Astin. He smiled and took another small step forward.

"Come on Astin, we can still be friends. There is no one stopping us now. Come on, just give me back my wand and we'll go do something fun, huh? We can go swimming, or maybe we can just go to the library and study a little. Just, put down my wand."

[Astin Descartes]

Astin literally growled when Griffin took a tentative step toward him; his fingers tightened around the two wands. "Don't. Move," he said, his voice ice cold. He could have killed Griffin with his bare hands at that point. No one had ther right to even touch Dastan, let alone hurt him. Astin was going to make Griffin pay.

"You killed them. All of them, you fucking psychopath. Three girls? They had families, you asshole. Their parents had to bury them. And for what? For your little experiments? They had nothing to do with this.

"And Dastan. You had no right to touch him. You killed my best friend and the boy I loved. What makes you think, even for a second, you're getting out of this alive?" Because he wasn't; Astin would make damn sure of that. Griffin had simply better hope that Astin let him die relatively easily, because already the gears in his blond head were turning, thinking up ways to torture Griffin until he actually fainted from the pain. Griffin would hurt.

Or... Astin could give him a taste of his own medicine. Griffin had used the girls as guinea pigs. Astin could play at that game. He had just the spell up his sleeve, too.

"On second thought... you like experiments, Griffin? I have one of my own I'd like to try." Astin's face was in neutral-- no smile, no glare. Dastan's death and his so-called "friend's" betrayal had broken him, shaped him into nothing more than a lifeless puppet with one goal: kill Griffin. He hardly knew left from right anymore, let alone right from wrong. To him, there was no longer good and evil-- simply revenge. Dastan's death would not go unavenged. Even if Astin went down, he'd take the murderer, the cause of all this suffering, with him. Leveling his wand at Griffin, Astin called, "Plodere!"

For a moment, nothing happened. Perhaps it hadn't worked. Then Griffin's mouth fell open, and a stream of crimson liquid trailed from the corner of his lips, down his jawline. Apparently it had worked.

Astin continued to pour his heart and soul and everything left in his whole being into that spell. It kept pulling, as if Griffin's navel was suddenly a vacuum, squeezing his internal organs, crushing his ribcage, condensing his spine. Astin's gaze was cold and unfeeling as he met Griffin's. There was nothing left for him to live for, nothing left to make him feel.

All he had left in the world was the cold, dead body of the love of his life. No amount of emotion would fix that. He didn't need to feel, didn't want to feel, if it wasn't with Dastan. The only thing that would bring him any amount of satisfaction was watching Griffin slowly die. There was simply nothing else.