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SaturdayMorning [userpic]
by SaturdayMorning (saturdaymorn)
at July 12th, 2006 (10:45 pm)

Title: Just a Fan
Author: Saturdaymorning
Rating: Teen/Mature
Travis Barker is afraid to go to sleep at night. Someone has been on his property in the last week, and someone still is.
Chapter: Day Seven: part II


full story: http://www.fandomination.net/index.cfm/mode/fanfic/FanficID/144552/Musicians/Blink%20182/

views appreciated!


    "Please take me by the hand, it's so cold out tonight... " Mark sang softly under his breath as he pulled into Travis' driveway, parking behind Tom's bulky, black SUV. "I'll put blankets on the bed... I won't turn out the lights..." The stereo went off with the engine and he continued the tune occapello.

    The sun had just settled in the sky a few moments ago. Always the early-riser, Mark had on fresh clean clothes and a hint of cologne and carried a coffee from Dunkin' Donuts. His hair was neatly spiked and he wore a chipper smile on his face as he jogged up the walkway to Travis' front door, squinting slightly in the sunlight.

    "Don't forget to... think about me, an' I... won't forget you... " he knocked sharply and then shoved his hand into his shorts pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels as he awaited a response, taking a sip of his coffee.

    "Why does it feel the same to fall in love or break it off... " he knocked again, louder this time. After a minute or so with still no reaction from within the house, he tried the door knob, finding it locked. Mark peered at the windows; the shades were all drawn, it was difficult to see inside. The house looked forbiddingly dark, and he wondered what Tom and Travis could possibly be doing in such an environment.

    He hopped down the stoop step and walked briskly around the corner of the house, noticing that Travis could use the aide of a gardener as he surveyed the overgrown foliage that bordered it.

    Just as the tall gate to Travis' backyard pool sanctuary came into view, Mark paused, distracted by a loud buzzing sound. Recognizing the clamour of insects, he frowned in confusion, stepping carefully over a broken flower pot as he went to investigate the source of the humming, which was coming from beneath a window.

    "Don't forget to..." He pushed back the tangled remains of a rose bush with the tip of his Vans shoes and broke his song to give a cry of disgust.    

    "Uuugh! Oh man!" Mark was staring down at what appeared to be animal remains beneath the swarm of flies and nats that surrounded the red-ish lump. Only a patch of matted orange fur remained beneath the bugs and insects that covered the corpse and Mark reckoned it used to be a cat.


    Travis had never heard Tom's voice go so high- even when the kid was singing.

    He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, straining to hear any noises Vincent might be making. What was going on?    What kind of instruments of torture did Vincent keep under his coat?    

    Travis could hear the groan of the bed as Vincent climbed onto it. Finally realizing what was about to go down, his insides tightened.

    "I've got nothing against raping him now, so watch your steps..."

    Was he really about to let this happen?

    "The ultimate best friend...A human doll..."

    He was really about to let this happen.    

    Vincent tossed his belt to the side and straddled Tom hastily below his waist, resting his seat back dangerously close to Tom's wound. The guitarist cried out from the added pressure and his bound fists clenched until his knuckles were pale.                      

    "Please, don't...Please I'm begging you...!" he whispered, his eyes shut tightly, unwilling to look.                                

    Vincent leaned down and put his thin lips close to his victim's ear. "I'm not gonna gag you this time," a faint smile was beginning to grow and Tom could feel it, "I want him to hear you scream."

    "TRAVIS!" Tom yelled, his voice now hoarse.

    "Shall I describe the scene for you, Travis?" Vincent called over the end of Tom's yell.

    Travis was trembling in the closet with a sick and overwhelming mixture of fear and guilt. He knew he was going to do nothing to stop this. He couldn't- he wasn't about to become a toy! He couldn't let that happen to himself!

    Surely one of his best friend's could understand that...

    "I brought that tool your provided me with in the kitchen," Vincent announced, "And before I ravage your friend, I'm going to carve something beautiful into him, to remind me of why I am doing this."

    He waited and heard nothing.

    "As a dedication."

    Tom didn't make a sound.

    "...Just for you."

    Tom felt the cold metal of the blade against his ear for a moment as Vincent asked, "You remember this knife, don't you?"

    Tom bit his lip to keep from crying further. Vincent was lifting up his shirt and he was trying to pretend he wasn't there- that he was far, far away back at his old apartment as a nineteen year old, about to have his and Jennifer's very first kiss...  Staring up at the stars as he lay beside Mark in someone's backyard, their insides sore from laughing too hard.... Standing in front of thousands with a guitar, looking to his right and sharing a smile with his best friend... The feel of his prom date's body against his as they danced during the final number...

    But someone was interrupting.

    Vincent ran a hand slowly across Tom's exposed back- his canvas- excitedly, "Can you spell Travis for me, Tom?"    

    Then, pain!

    Jen smiling.... the touch of her hands in the dark...

    "Spell it!"

    Mark's shit-eating grin.... pushing and shoving and laughing...

    And he choked out, "T..."

    Pain. Christmas '99, the whole family together... not even arguing...

    "Very good!" Vincent was overcome with glee as he finished dragging the tip of the blade to the letter's finish. "And next we have?" He put the tip down again beside the completed T, pressing it hard into the flesh, starting a shallow pool of blood at a new spot.

    Someone was crying out and Tom absentmindedly wondered if it were himself.


    Pain. Lighting up with Mark in the back of the van as it rumbled across the California state line.... away from parents at last....

    The blood from the first letter was starting to run and Tom couldn't make himself numb enough to not feel that warm trickle dripping down his side.        

    Travis had his hands over his ears hard, tears streaming down his face.


    Pain.  First time... stumbling up the stairs and into the bedroom with the girl next door on the first day of freshman year, vulnerable, scared and in love...

    More cries. Tom's memories weren't taking him far enough.


    Pain. First kiss with the blonde girl in the second grade on the playground... her hair was in pigtails...

    Vincent looked down at the bloody mess and scolded himself mentally for going too hard on the first few letters, as the blood from it was running into the other ones. His only consolation was that it would make a lovely scar as a lasting reminder to Travis of what he'd done.

    Vincent didn't actually plan on keeping Tom around for long, but the guy did provide a good means of punishment for Travis until Vincent could really make the drummer his 'best friend.'

    The killer closed his eyes and pictured Travis in the passenger seat of one of his Cadillacs as he drove them out of here, to a place where no one would ever be able to find them. To make that image a reality he would go through anyone in the way, including the man beneath him.


    Vincent put the carver's knife to work again and there was Pain. Tom pushed his mind away from it and thought of the beach, with Shon, Kari, Mom, and Dad, married and in love....





    Mark banged his fists against the glass doors at the back of Travis' house, his face inches away, trying to peer through the darkness and into the dining room.

    "C' mon guys, open up!" he yelled, his voice barely audible from within. Being a drummer, Travis kept his house as sound-proof as possible, uneager to spend his time dealing with policemen and complaining neighbors.

    But Mark's pounding knocks were certainly loud enough to be heard.

    "I'm not messin' around, c' mon now!"

    He could hardly see into the dining room through the stone foyer that the doors immediately opened into. Beyond that he could only make out the edge of the table through the archway of said foyer, and that was hardly a view.

    Mark was on red alert: that truck in the driveway, the absence of lights, and the mutilated cat outside the window were more than enough to convince him that something was up.

     Something that probably wasn't good.

reviews appreciated!


Posted by: floppy_666 (floppy_666)
Posted at: July 13th, 2006 10:39 am (UTC)
ILookFunny xD

o.0 Ooooh...That was GOOD! ARGH that sounded painful...:D

Posted by: Life is pants. (killthemoonkeys)
Posted at: July 27th, 2006 12:00 am (UTC)
stop that

Thank you
for posting something here.