It was dark when Brian finally pulled up in front of his house and the cold, frosty stars glimmered in the blackness of the night while dancing in the moonlight.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes, weary at the late hour, but the day was over now and he could finally return home. He smiled slightly to himself, it was always relaxing to come home after a long, tedious stay in a hotel where he was constantly watched by security guards. Now he could spend some quiet time by himself and, best of all, he could sleep in his own bed.
He stretched his aching arms and sighed before reaching to retrieve his rucksack from the backseat of his car. As he turned back he felt his heart jerk unpleasantly as he noticed that the hallway light was on and then his eyes fell upon the smashed window by his front door.
"Oh no," he groaned, dropping his bag and hurriedly clambering out of his car. 'Why did this have to happen to me?' His plans for relaxation seemed to be completely smashed now.
He dashed up the short flight of steps to his front door, desperate to see what damage had been done. The window beside the front door, looking into his hallway, had been broken and inside he could see the splintered shards glimmering upon the carpet.
Dismally he placed the palm of his hand upon the door and pushed it open, finding that it had already been unlocked from the inside. No doubt the burglar had entered through the window and left through the door.
'I knew I should have brought a burglar alarm.' He thought back to the hundreds of times he had contemplated buying one, but it had always been too quiet, too unreliable… or Brian had just been too lazy to purchase one.
Slowly he stepped into his house, his house which had now been violated by someone. He glanced through the door to his right, leading to the lounge and he felt his heart beginning to sink deeper into his chest as he noticed that his video shelves were empty and there was a large gap beneath his TV where the DVD player usually sat. The television set itself had obviously been too large for anybody to steal quickly. At least everything hadn't gone…
He returned to the hallway and then froze as he noticed the two sports bags by the bottom of the stairs, crammed full of his possessions. He could see the corner of the DVD player sticking out at one end.
What kind of guy breaks into a house and then leaves the stuff? Unless…
"Well, well what have we here then?" a cruel voice hissed.
Brian gasped slightly as he heard the voice from above him and his stomach writhed within him as if trying to wriggle free from his body. His heart began to hammer hurriedly against his chest and send cold, sharp shocks of fear to his limbs.
He slowly turned his head towards the staircase and saw that there was a man standing at the top. His dark eyes shone with a malevolent light of their own and his rough face squatted beneath a scruffy crop of dark, greasy hair.
The stranger's eyes pierced into his face and Brian could feel him sizing him up and laughing inwardly as he compared Brian's small, slight build to his own muscular limbs
"W - what do you want?" Brian stammered. Stupid question really…
The intruder smiled as he began to descend the stairs, swinging another sports bag casually from arm to arm. "I'm robbing you," he stated simply.
Thump. Thump. Thump, thump, thump! Brian could feel each sickening thud of his heart and each time it became faster and faster, pumping the nausea and the fear harder into his stomach.
His eyes darted to the phone upon the mantelpiece. Kevin's number had been programmed in. With one button he could be in touch with his cousin and scream for help, or maybe he could inch his way to the front door.
"Uh ah, I wouldn't do that," the man snickered slightly. "I might be tempted to hurt you." He balled one of his huge hands into a fist and tauntingly waved it in front of Brian.
Brian gulped slightly and backed away from the phone. His body was beginning to turn numb and he could feel his arms beginning to almost lock up with fear turning him into a wooden doll that could easily be crushed by the monster before him.
"Take whatever you want!" he gabbled suddenly. "I won't tell anyone! Just take it!" He suddenly felt his back press against the wall and he gave a weak cry as he realised that he was now cornered.
The burglar smiled sardonically and dropped the third bag down by the others before beginning to slowly step towards him. His right hand was still curled into a fist and he rubbed his left hand against the knuckles tauntingly.
"I don't think so," he whispered. "You know, I haven't killed someone in so long. The last person was a man and I delivered the fatal blow with this hand." He held out his right fist, only a few inches from Brian's face.
Brian felt all of his muscles tighten as the fear paralysed them completely. Desperately he pressed harder against the wall begging for it to swallow him up.
"I've always wanted to kill a famous person," he hissed.
The fist suddenly came flying towards him and Brian only had time to emit a short whimper as the fist connected with his face. He heard the crack as his head smacked against the wall and he cried out as a splitting pain hit his head. Then there was the searing pain from the blow that covered his entire face and made the room about him spin so that it seemed as if there were seven attackers instead of just one.
More pain suddenly hit him as the intruder's fist now fell into his stomach sending a shooting pain rippling through his abdomen. He squealed and fell to the floor, his hands clutching at his crushed stomach and his bruised face.
The attacker laughed and the booming voice sent shudders through Brian's body and then he felt the tears pricking his eyes. Why had this happened to him?
The boot came next, a heavy blow that struck his hip and the aching pain quickly began to slide up his back. He heard another terrified cry and he knew that it was coming from his own trembling lips.
The world about him was spinning and blurred by the tears that leapt to his eyes. He saw the attacker pulling his leg back, preparing to deliver him a second vicious kick. Brian clumsily stuck his hand out and grasped the boot. He heard a startled gasp from the man and then he pulled hard. The man gave a groan of rage, as he was unbalanced before he fell to the floor.
Brian struggled to his feet and, still clutching his aching stomach, began to limp towards the kitchen and the escape route it held in the form of a back door.
'Get out, get out! Gotta get out!' his mind screamed at him frantically as he struggled towards the back door despite the way his body screamed and protested painfully at the brutal treatment it had just endured.
His hands stretched out before him, desperate to clasp the handle of the door and pull it open to release him into the night. In the dark he could run, hide and escape from his merciless attacker.
Just as his fingers brushed against the door, he felt a rough grip on the back of his shirt before he was yanked backwards and thrown to the floor. Brian cried out as a number of pots, pans and other kitchen utensils tumbled from the stand and onto his head.
"You don't get away that easily!" the brute above him bellowed.
Brian's heart was so loud that he wondered if the man could hear it. He was shamefully aware of the tears that had somehow found their way out onto his face and were tickling the stinging pains of the burglar's fists.
"Please, let me go," he whispered. He felt cowardly as he lie crumpled upon the cold, kitchen floor but how could he fight this man before him?
The man above him grinned and then stretched out a hand to seize Brian by the collar. Brian whimpered slightly as he was dragged to his feet.
"How could I ever let you go? How could I ever tell my friends that I had an ickle Backstreet Baby in my own hands for the killing and that I then let him go? No, I couldn't do that!"
"I'll pay you," Brian said, his voice little more than a squeak. "I've got money."
"And I will too by the time I've finished ransacking your house. You've got lots of nice things that would fetch a good price. I don't need your money, but I do want to kill you.
While he spoke, Brian could feel his breath upon his face, the breath that smelt like stale cigarettes and alcohol. The breath that brought goose pimples up upon his skin as it was accompanied by such frightening words.
The sweat was sliding down his face and Brian was desperately trying to press down the paralysing fear inside of him in the hope that somehow he could find a way out of this situation. The look in the man's eyes though seemed to dissolve any inner strength that remained inside of his trembling soul.
"Aaww, you're so scared, aren't you?" his attacker whispered. "You should be."
Brian's hand stretched out behind him, frantically searching for something, anything that might protect him.
"I've always wanted to kill somebody famous," the man hissed, waving the knife in front of Brian. "Is your blood the same colour as everybody else's? Let me find out."
"N - no!"
"Stay away!" Brian yelled. His hand desperately stretched out behind him, frantically searching for something, anything that might protect him.
The man before him smiled sardonically and balled up one of his huge hands into fist and stepped closer to Brian, ready to bring his knuckles crashing into his face.
Brian's hand suddenly found a plastic handle and he closed his fingers tightly about it and then pulled it out in front of him. He looked down and saw the light reflecting from the knife blade.
"Oooh," the intruder mocked, feigning a fear filled look.
"Leave now," Brian threatened, clutching the knife so tightly in his hand that he could see his knuckles turning white.
The intruder smiled again and then reached out to his right to seize his own weapon from the work surface. Brian watched with wide eyes as he pulled a carving knife from the utility stand behind him and he felt a thick lump of sickness sticking to the back of his throat as he compared his own tiny knife to the size of the long, jagged blade his attacker held.
"I like it when people fight back," the man hissed. "Makes things more… interesting."
"Please go!" Brian begged. "Take what you want!" He weakly pointed the knife forward.
"And tell everybody that I was shit scared when the baby tried to fight back? No."
Brian clasped his own pathetic weapon in his hands and he could feel sweat gluing it to his fingers. He stifled a cry as he backed away against the work surface, trying to hold back the tears from spilling onto his cheeks.
"Tell me, is the blood of famous people the same colour as everybody else's? Let me find out."
He crept closer towards him and Brian clutched his own knife even tighter. He barely dared to breathe as lightly placed the blade onto his arm and tickled his skin with it. Brian's eyes flickered closed and he had to fight to muffle the cry that caught in his throat. He could feel his own knife in his hands but he just couldn't make himself fight back.
"You're real pathetic, you know?" the man laughed as he suddenly brought the knife plunging down into Brian's arm.
Brian screamed as the blade was withdrawn and instinctively he jerked his own weapon forwards, stabbing hopelessly at the air.
"Oooh, he does fight back!" the attacker sneered as he easily jumped out of the way of Brian's knife. "But you've lost this battle."
He came forwards again and seized the arm that held the knife with a huge hand before pinning it behind Brian's head. The man chuckled again and then prepared to bring the knife slicing into Brian's throat.
Brian gave another cry and he used his free left arm to cover his neck and at that moment he felt the tearing pain as the knife split open the skin upon his arm a second time.
"Did that hurt? How about this?"
Again, Brian screamed as the knife cut deeply into his arm and he felt the blood spilling out of the wounds and then he was stabbed again, this time in his shoulder.
The pain was searing through his arm now and Brian could barely move it. Through tears, he could see his own blood smearing his arms and dribbling to the floor. His face was becoming wet with terror filled tears and he could hear his own sobs and screams coming from his lips. Something inside of him suddenly seemed to fill with power and Brian clumsily raised his bloody arm and struck his attacker in the face with his elbow.
The man bellowed with rage and he immediately released Brian's right arm to clutch at his face. Brian gasped and then pushed past him, limping as fast as he could out of the kitchen and towards the front door.
"Get back here you fucking little shit!" the man yelled hatefully behind him.
Brian felt another sob bubble from his lips and then he gave a startled cry as he felt the cruel grasp of a hand on the back of his shirt. Desperately he attempted to struggle away, but the hellish demon that had invaded his house held him tight and then roughly spun him around to face him.
Brian felt dizzy and the hallway seemed to be swirling about him. He could barely focus upon the brute's face before him, but he could sense the murderous anger that leapt forth from those malice filled eyes.
"I grow tired of you," he hissed threateningly. He brought the blade closer to Brian's face and Brian whimpered as he saw his own blood covering the serrated edge. "Say goodbye to your singing voice. I'm going to cut it from your throat."
The intruder grasped Brian's head to prevent him from moving or jerking away. Brian felt the beast press closer to him as he positioned the knife against his throat and prepared to make the final slit that would seal his death.
All of a sudden, Brian felt his attacker jerk suddenly and then he groaned. A sickening, gurgling noise bubbled from his throat and then he began to choke. The knife fell from his hands and clattered harmlessly to the floor.
Brian stared at the man in horror and then he felt a wet, sticky substance sliding down his hands. He gasped and suddenly realised that his own knife had found its way into the intruder's chest. His eyes seemed glued to the man's shock filled face and then he wrenched his arm backwards, removing the knife from his chest.
The man clutched as the knife wound as he staggered backwards. For a second his eyes focused on Brian in disbelief and then blood began to seep out from the corners of his mouth and his eyes misted over. He began to choke and splutter as he frantically clutched as his chest to try and stop his life from leaking away.
Brian looked down and saw the knife still clasped in his own hands, but now it was coated in blood. It had plunged straight into his heart as the intruder had leant forwards to kill Brian.
The man before him began to gurgle, more dribbles of blood creeping out of his mouth. Brian felt a horrified gurgle coming from his own throat as he took a step backwards away from the hideous monster as it choked before him before slumping down to the floor where a deep puddle of blood quickly began to form.
'He's dead! Oh my God!'
Brian felt the sickness in his stomach beginning to force it's violent way up his throat as he stared down at the body before him. Murder. He'd just committed murder.