He had been screaming as he died. 
Nagi had never heard him scream before; he had always been able to control his emotions. No matter what you thought of him, you had to admire his willpower. His unseeing, bleeding eyes were slowly ripped out of their sockets by the reaper standing in front of him. Nagi doubted that the American had ever been that afraid before. If he ever had been afraid at all, you could never tell. 
At first, he had enjoyed it. Crawford was finally punished for what he had done to them all. However, somewhere along the way something had changed. Farfarello had lost control. He had not been able to hold back the pain. The eternal hate for the man that had wrecked him completely. Making him unable to trust, unable to love. Nagi had been standing by the doorway, getting a full overview of the scene. Jei had taken out his knives and to the sound of Crawford's whining and begging, Nagi had seen the American get his eyes cut out and being forced to eat them. His body had jerked, as he was feeling increasingly sick. He could hear the eyes pop as the American chewed them and he had to turn away to throw up. Yet, he remained at his post. He had to stop Schuldich from entering the room and seeing what Jei did to his former lover. Poor Schu, he would never understand. He would blame it all on Jei. Nagi didn't think that they would ever find their way back to each other. He had been about to tell Jei, but something in his eye had stopped him. Farfarello Jei was standing with his legs wide apart above Crawford in all his glory. His slender arms were raised above his head and the gloved hands were clasping a knife. The moonlight shining through the window, reflecting in his sliver-white hair made him look angelic and demonic at the same time. The American was trying desperately to crawl away, but the Irishman's ankles held him in an iron grip around the waist...boring through his ribs. The painful glow in the Irishman's ever-golden eye was replaced with a deeper glimmer of satisfaction as he with surgical precision cut an open wound in Crawford's chest. He was shaking in his entire body as he dug the knife deeper into the white flesh. Crawford's painfilled cries only seemed to give him new strength, he laughed as he turned the knife in the blood-filled wound.  He enjoyed watching Crawford down on the floor, so helpless. As Farfarello lit some candles, placed in a circle around him, he wondered if Crawford knew that he was dying. 
Nagi had never feared Farfarello, he had always thought of him as harmless. He had even sympathised with him. He knew what Crawford had put him through. Now, he was staying away. Not daring to go any closer to him.
Somewhere along the way, Jei had transformed into a beast. He had thrown his knives away, and now he was bent over Crawford, sitting on his chest. He tarred apart the wound even more with his hands and teeth and grunts emerged from his mouth as he threw the bloody pieces of pink flesh all over the room. In only a few seconds, the room was drenched with blood, the walls were all bloodstained and you couldn't see the original colour of the floor for all the blood. Crawford's desperate cries for help rose to a crescendo that still echoed in Nagi's head at night. He would hear them until he died. 
But Farfarello didn't stop. He buried his beautiful, silvery head in Crawford's chest while he held him by sitting on him. As he turned his head back up, there was blood dripping from his mouth and parts of the flesh was stuck in between his front teeth. Nagi caught himself thinking that it was a good thing that Crawford couldn't see. The sight of the Irishman would've killed him instantly. He was bloody all over his slender body and his eye was wide open and bloodshot with a dangerous, insane glimmer in it. He smiled a merciless smile, showing nothing but his teeth as he bent down and started licking Crawford's ear. He closed his eye, gently took the shivering American in his arms, and softly whispered something in his ear as he held him. Nagi could only hear the last words. It was enough. Enough for him to turn around and run back up the stairs, he didn't wanna be a part of this slaughter. If Schuldich came, then let him come. A maniac like Farfarello didn't deserve to be loved anyway. 
"...so don't worry, my love. I'm sure you'll be going to paradise as the saint you are." Crawford widened his unseeing eye sockets and screamed. Sure as hell, he knew that he was dying. 
He looked around the room. Good, Schu hadn't heard the screaming and come down. He turned back towards the American, who was crawling around the bloody floor and tried to find his way without seeing where he went. To Farfarello, he was a pathetic looking type. However, he wouldn't let Crawford's begging and whining fool him. A faint smell of urine reached his nose and his beautiful features disorted into a disgusted grin as he realised that Brad had wet himself in fear. Wimp. What kind of a man was he?
He couldn't even keep his pants dry. Jei went up to him, studied him for a while and then placed a heavy boot in the American's stomach. Crawford whined and started to cough blood. The blood from his eye-sockets mixed with the one from his mouth and chest, and dripped down on the floor where it fell into the puddle of urine underneath him. Farfarello smiled as he heard the American's desperate cries for help, he knelt beside Brad and gently kissed his cheek. His plumped lips hardly even brushed against the American's milk-white flesh. Then he started licking Crawford's wounds all over his body, devouring the blood greedily. As if he could never get enough of the red, chopper like liquid. Crawford tried to fight back, but every time he as much as moved, Jei placed his heel in the Americans stomach again. Not removing it until Crawford was screaming with pain. As he himself had once screamed under Crawford's control. Now, wasn't that ironic? Just thinking about it made him cut teeth. Nevertheless, Crawford was at his feet now. He decided whether he got to live or die. He shook his head and smiled a sadistic smile before completely crushing Crawford's ribs with his black, heavy military-boot.
"Your odds don't look so good, American." He said with his deep, intense voice. He had managed to fill the voice with so much despise and hate. He spat out the last word as if it had been a curse. So much pain in his voice, but also satisfaction and something else sent a shiver down your spine. Something that made Crawford squirm again, not only from pain...but also from fear. Madness? Perhaps. It was dark and sensual, and his Irish accent seemed to fit perfectly to the catlike, slender body with all the scars. Perfect for the complexed mind that he had. Perfect for the ever-golden amber eye, a window to his soul. Perfect for silver hair and pale skin. It was also perfect for the final addition in the nightmare that Jei was putting Crawford through. He licked his cherry-red lips with the pink, harsh tongue that had never been fed. He had never even kissed the German. Duncan had never wanted to be kissed. All he ever wanted was to be held, comforted. Jei had never told him about Crawford molesting him; the redhead had enough with his own problems. All he had ever done whenever he had snuck into the cellar where the German was tied was to hold him. Every night when Crawford had left the cellar, he would run to Duncan. He had run and run until he started coughing blood, but he had come. He had held the German in his arms, swallowing his own tears to try to be strong. He had pulled the older boy closer and kissed his temple, hushed him. Letting him sit in his lap and held him. Not letting go until the silent sobbing had ended. 
What wouldn't he give for just one more night with his lover? 
He remembered so well the sound of Crawford laughing at him as Schu broke his arm. Crawford hadn't thought that anyone heard him. Nevertheless, Farfarello had, that was how he found out what Crawford had done. As he tried to tell Schu, the German had simply looked at him in disgust. Farfarello had at last realized that there weren't a trace of the old Schu in this jaded killer. He had realized it when he couldn't see any love in Schu's eyes, only disgust. Disgust for him.  As the memories returned, he yet again picked up his knife and bent down.
"Nice to know you, precious..." He whispered in Crawford's ear. His warm, gentle breath tickled the American's neck and collarbone, causing him to shiver. Then he playfully bit Crawford in his ear. He could feel the American relaxing underneath him as he mounted his back, one leg on each side of the thin body. 
"...but unfortunately..." He begun and clasped the second knife in his other hand and started moving it towards the body beneath him. As he had reached the warm skin, he started drawing compact circles with his knife in Crawford's back.
"...we won't have time to start a deeper relationship." He spat as he buried the knife in Crawford's back. The American had screamed and a small string of blood had appeared in the corner of his mouth. 
"SHI-NEE!!" Farfarello screamed and dug the knife deeper into Brad's back, no longer held back by anything. The small string of blood grew to a big blood flow, but Crawford kept screaming. He screamed until his lungs were so filled with blood that he could no longer breathe. Then he turned his empty sockets back to the Irishman and opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Only more blood. 
Farfarello raised his hands yet again and laughed as his sharp knife cut Crawford's chest in half. He didn't stop laughing until Crawford had stopped screaming. Then he stood, as if to leave. However, before he did, he took one last look at the slain American on the ground and he was overwhelmed with hatred. He knelt once again, shaking of rage in the entire body and picked up his knife. And piece-by-piece he slowly started to chop the corpse into a meaty, bloody mess on the floor. The horrid scene in the basement was fortified by the insane cries of pain emerging from the Irishman's mouth. Saliva, sweat and partly coagulated blood mixed with salty tears as he kept chopping the body in blind rage. Not stopping the insane screams. Not putting down the knife even though every fibre in his body was engulfed with red blazes of pain. He was unable to breathe, but somehow he managed to inhale anyway. His heart burned with a stronger fire of pain than the physical one, that's what kept him going. The pain that had haunted him for his entire life. He didn't notice that his sleeveless shirt was drenched with blood and stuck with sweat to his back. He didn't notice the thunder and lightening outside. He didn't notice the pain in his arms anymore. He didn't even notice that the American was already dead, chopped up in centimetre-large pieces on the bloodstained floor. All he saw before him was Crawford and Schuldich, as he had found them seven years ago. Together under the quilt, naked. Crawford holding his precious German, and Schu moaning with pleasure as the American thrust harder into him while massaging his prostate. That was when he had started cutting himself. When he had found out that Crawford had taken over the redhead, making him his slave, making him enjoy it, he had almost killed himself. If it hadn't been for Nagi, he would be dead by now. Nagi had stopped the blood flow using his own clothes. That's why he kept cutting. He would make Crawford pay for what he had done to Schu. At least, he told himself that that was the only reason. He couldn't stop the thoughts from coming, he didn't cut Crawford anymore. Instead, he had turned his back against the American. He was kneeling on the floor, cutting himself in the chest. The tears emerged from his beautiful amber-eye. He was able to feel pain, he had always been, he just ignored it. However, he couldn't stop the mental pain. Duncan wasn't the one who should be called guilty. He glanced at the dead man on the floor and had to turn away. At first, he had blamed Crawford, but then he had realised that he was the one to blame. He was a frightening sight, where he sat on the floor. His normally white, shining hair was dishevelled and drenched with sweat- and blood. Vivid purple bruises were forming on his arms, and through his close-fitting T-shirt you could see patches that were darker than his pale skin colour. There was a long gash across the material of his black pants, where blood was rapidly soaking through. The Irishman let his cherry-red lips touch the knife, gently like butterfly wings, and smiled as he slowly closed his eyes. He let his tongue graze the edge of the knife for just the fraction of a second needed for him to feel the pain as the sharp knife ripped open the tip of his tongue. He felt the blood stream as an electric shock all through his body. His heart started pounding as he gently sucked, he felt a rush of light-headedness accompanied by a sudden onslaught of guilt, he was breathing heavily and now he started swallowing. He drank greedy and got even more excited, he started cutting his arms only to bury his teeth in them to suck out the blood. He had to do this; he had to punish himself as well as Crawford. He was also to blame. If he had only satisfied Crawford, this would never have happened. If he had pretended to enjoy what Crawford had done to him, he would have saved his lover from all of this. Schu wouldn't have been Crawford's lover, Jei would. Poor Schu, he would never know what Crawford had done to him. He would never know that the American was only playing with him, only controlling him to take pleasure in his sadistic games. He could still see them together. That was something that he had lived with for far too long. He saw them as he had always seen them, as they had been when he walked in on them. 

Crawford had been behind the German, kissing his slender neck and letting his hand slide further and further down the German's throat. Jei had seen Crawford smiling, licking his cracked lips and starting to go into a state of physical arousal as he reached Schuldich's flat, muscular stomach. Jei had been able to hear the German moan and call for Crawford, begging him never to stop. Crawford had bent down and kissed the redhead's soft ass before probing one of his fingers into his entrance. Jei had clenched his fists in pure hate as he saw Schu squirming and going into hardness, all the time panting "Oh, Brad...oh!" rhythmically. That caused Crawford to withdraw his finger and instead enter the German with his limb while pressing the beautiful redhead harder against him, to be able to thrust deeper in and grunting his name...Duncan. The name that the German had always hated. However, the uttering of the name had the opposite effect of what Jei thought it would have. Schu had instead pressed himself harder against Crawford, causing the American to come. Loudly he shouted for Schu as he thrust while coming, and the German seemed to love it. After he had come, he pulled out of the redhead and grabbed him by the crouch, stroking his prostate rhythmically. No, not stroking...pushing. And the German had loved it. He moaned and his limb arose as Crawford held his hands behind his back, making him unable to move. Schuldich pressed his hips against the American and begged him to thrust into him once again. Crawford had obeyed. He had hardened once more to the sound of his lover's voice calling for him, and to the feeling of his clenched buttocks as he got his orgasm. The sheets got wet from sweat and semen as Brad pushed Schu down against the pillow and started to take him. Fast, violently while biting the German's untouched, milk-white skin. Jei had turned away at this point, but he had still been able to hear their moaning and mutual love confessions for each other. That night, he swore to kill Crawford in the most painful way there was. After Crawford had pulled out of Schuldich, he lay down in the bed and wrapped his arm around the redhead's slender waist...pulling him closer so that he was able to feel every inch of his athletic body. At first, Schu seemed to be prepared to go to sleep, but then he suddenly started laughing. Jei had always loved that laugh. It sounded as pure and innocent as tiny silver bells. Schu was a jaded killer, but he had a laugh like a child. 
"So you still want more of me, huh?" The German had said. Crawford had blushed and tried to hide his arousal while looking away. But then, Schu had pulled him back towards him and started to lick his cheek.
"You're so cute, honey." He had added before meeting the American's cracked lips, allowing his own tongue to swirl around Brad's. Crawford had returned the kiss while panting heavily from the exhausting sexual act earlier. He had grunted disappointedly as the German suddenly broke off the kiss, but Schu had put a finger on his lips and hushed him before continuing to lick the American's thin body. The German's slender fingers had gone further down towards the American's crouch, as had his tongue, passing his chest and soft, stomach. Crawford's stomach had looked cold. Just like the American's eyes. Never showing feelings, he only used Schu as his sex slave. But Schu didn't know. He got harder and harder the further down he went. After a few seconds, Schu couldn't bare it anymore and took Brad in his mouth. Crawford had moaned with blissful satisfaction and put a hand on Schuldich's head, pressing him further down towards his crouch. The hard, pulsating limb in the German's mouth caused him to get a second release, but he didn't stop licking. Jei hadn't been able to take it anymore. With the tears burning behind his eyelids, he had run out of the building. Without looking back, he had went into the chapel and taken out his knives. He had understood why Crawford did this to Schu. At first, he hadn't wanted the German, he was a little bit too old for him. He had instead tried to get to Jei. However, as Jei was unable to satisfy him, he had been forced to go to Duncan's bed. Jei had cut himself, in an effort to punish himself.  That was when he almost died from blood-loss, the first time that he had cut himself. If it hadn't been for Nagi. His heart ached as he looked at the boy, with his ability to sense emotions he knew the boy's feelings for him. He knew how painful unanswered love could be. He also knew that Schu wasn't the only one for Crawford. He loved little kids. Therefore...he often went to Nagi's bed as well. However, Schu was the only one for Jei. It was him...or no one. Nevertheless, after Brad and Schu's sex scene tonight, he knew that it was more likely to be no one. And with no one loving you, you might as well die. 

Pain. The pain woke Jei up, back to reality. The Irishman lifted his head from the warm puddle of blood that covered the floor. Some of the candles were still burning though most of them had burned down long ago. The blood was sticky and some parts of his skin were still stuck on the floor as he got up on his elbows. The slovenly bandage fell to the floor, revealing terrible scars.  Hurt like hell!
However, he didn't care anymore. Now that Crawford was dead, the grip of Schu's mind would loosen. Maybe even go away completely. Jei would easily be able to make Schu remember him. They would finally be together again. After eighteen years, they could finally be together! That only proved that love could survive anything.

With a last effort, using the last of his strength, he got up from the floor and started walking towards the stairs. He slowly sneaked upstairs, from where the sounds of silent sobbing could be heard. It was coming from Schu's room. Jei's heart skipped a beat as he could discern the words. Schu's calling for Crawford had been replaced with the desperate crying for someone else.

"...Jei..."