Hello everyone! I saw this movie recently and I decided to give a jab at it cause I thought the movie was great!

Diclaimer: I don't own the characters, I'm borrowing them for this story


Dream Sequence:

Avoid suspicion . . .

Manipulate your friends . . .

Eliminate your enemies . . .

"Honestly, Owen, even if that were true... who would believe you?"

End Sequence.

Owen's eyes snapped opened and he quickly sat up. Sweat ran down his face and his nicely toned chest was heaving as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the world to save him.

Once his breathing was under control his eyes strayed over to his clock. The numbers 3:47 glared back at him. He sighed, knowing that he would not be getting anymore sleep that night.

Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and got to his feet then walked towards his shower. He turned the hot nozzle to full blast and watched as the water erupted like a volcano, the clear drops cascading down the linoleum walls.

After stripping down to his birthday suit, Owen stepped into the scalding water and put his head underneath the showerhead, letting the water flow down his face.

Owen didn't know how long he had stayed like that under the water when his phone rang. He let out a groan and quickly stepped from his haven scrambling to find a towel to cover himself with. His wet hand grabbed onto the flashing numbers and quickly clicked the ON button.

"Hello?" his English accent flowing smoothly through the air.

"Hey Owen… it's Tom," the familiar voice spoke.

Owen unconsciously cringed at the realization of Tom; one of the people who set him up… was one of the members of the group that pushed him to shooting an innocent man. "What do you want Tom," he asked, his voice instantly cold and as empty as his heart felt.

A sigh was heard through the phone. "We heard that the charges were dropped… and we also heard that you could come back to school…"

"I'm not going back Tom," Owen interrupted.

"Oh come one man! You know, I'm sure Dodger misses you, she's been extra PMSIE lately," Tom tried to convince Owen; unaware that the red head had indeed been responsible for every problem Owen had suffered through.

"I'm sure she has," Owen muttered, purely disgusted by the thought of the girl.

Another sigh. "Well if you change your mind, we'll still be here, even though I'm pretty sure we're the last ones you'd wanna lay your eyes on."

"Maybe we'll talk again soon, goodbye Tom." And with that, Owen clicked the OFF button and set the phone back on its charger.


A Week Later:

"Owen it's too late for you to change schools, you should be happy to go back. You're a hero; the girls should be falling at your feet! You brought a murderer to justice," Owen's father told him, dashing the teens dream of escaping the nightmare at that Virginian academy.

"You can't send me back! Do you have any idea what I went through while I was there? Do you have any freaking idea?" Owen shouted, trying to force reason into his father.

"Owen be reasonable, it's only for a few more months and then you'll be out of there and into college," Mr. Mathews explained. "You'll be fine Owen, I've even convinced your Dean to let you have your own room."

"I can't believe you!" Owen shouted as his father slammed the door to his car and drove off to work.


First Day Back At School:

"Welcome back Mister Mathews," the Dean greeted her hand at his back, gently guiding him towards his dorm. "This is it, I hope you'll be comfortable here. But if you do change your mind and do decide to have a roommate then just come and speak with me and I'll arrange for someone else to move in."

All Owen could do was nod obediently. Old fears and memories flying back to him at once.

"You remember where the mess hall is I presume?"

Again, just a nod.

"Alright, then I will leave you to get situated."

Another nod, and the woman was gone.

Owen moved his belongings to his bed, only removing his laptop. He wasn't planning on staying here long. If things happened the way he thought they were going to, then he'd be leaving very soon indeed.

The brown-headed teen was startled when someone pounded on his door, and none too lightly either. Instantly Owen's right hand was reaching into his bag and around the knife he now carried everywhere with him. Paranoia had become his best friend.

"Owen open the door it's me! Tom," the energetic voice boomed through the door.

Owen let out a relieved breath and got to his feet to unlock the door. "What do you want?" he asked, noticing that he had people with him. Randall, Lewis, Mercedes, Graham, and Regina all stood behind him. He couldn't help it when his first reaction was to slam the door, but Tom had guessed his next action and put his foot in the path of the doorway.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game," he whispered, his voice dangerous in it's ferocity.

Tom winced at Owen's boldness and his own guilt came flying back at him. "We don't deserve to be forgiven and we know that. The game got out of hand, and we're sorry."

This time Randall stepped forward. "Yeah man, we're sorry. Really fucking sorry."

Owen shook his head softly, his feet becoming his new line of attention. "Look I get it, and I've been trying to suck it up. I killed a man," he whispered.

"That man was guilty," Graham told him stepping forward, trying to take away Owen's guilt.

Owen shook his head harder. "No… he wasn't." his door was slammed shut before Tom could try to stop it a second time. The last thing Tom saw before he shut and locked the door securely was confusion crossing everyone's face.

Owen turned his back to the locked door and slowly slid down it, his bottom coming to rest on the carpeted floor. He tried to ignore the pounding on the door, and the worried voices begging him to open the door. Tears of guilt and frustration tracked down his face, and he cried for hours after his old friends let him be. Finally his tired tears forced him into sleep at his post by the door.

It was in the early hours of the morning when Owen was startled awake by a sound outside his door. His eyes snapped open and he held his breath, listening for any sound, believing that his ears had just played a joke on him.

Panic swelled within his chest when he heard the sound again, and this time the sound was made when someone grasped the doorknob and tried turning it. The lock prevented the mystery guest from entering.

"O…w…e…n," a feminine voice that was overly seductive spoke just above a whisper. "I know you're in there. The guy's told me they came by earlier."

The panic had escalated to full-blown terror within Owen. He turned and stared at the door as if it had suddenly morphed into some hideous beast.

The feeling of helplessness drove the horrified teenager to scoot across the ground until his back was against the wall furthest from the door with his feet drawn up to his chest. He continued to stare, hoping that the girl behind it would disappear.

For a few fleeting seconds Owen wondered how he could be reduced to such a wimp. He had started at this academy with his natural cockiness, with his confidence and it didn't even matter anymore. His short one-month break from the nightmare hadn't served him well. He'd woken up many nights screaming, and others his father had shaken him awake, the nightmares flooded everything, turning him into a social outcast.

The doorknob shook again before a clicking sound resounded and then silence filled the space.

Owen leaned forward slightly almost believing the girl had gone. Suddenly the door slowly opened to reveal the madly grinning Dodger. Owen tried to call for help, but he was frozen and his mouth hung open.

Dodger stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and locking it. In her left hand was a small bag and in the other was a bottle of something he could only identify as being alcohol. She was still smiling at him when she came to rest on her knees in front of him.

"I've missed you Owen," she whispered seductively into his ear. She brought her hand to his face and caressed his cheek bringing her lips to his own. When Owen pulled back into the wall to escape her, Dodger drew back herself and sneered angrily at the cowering teenager.

"Don't make me do this the hard way Owen," she told him leaning in again only to get the same reaction. She sighed and wiped the newly fallen tears away from Owen's face. "Fine, we'll do this the hard way."

Owen stared at Dodger in confusion and shock when he felt a slight tingling in his arm. He looked down to see a syringe sticking from his arm. Nausea and dizziness hit him all at once leading him to fall forward into Dodger's awaiting arms.

The last thing Owen heard before falling unconscious was Dodger's soft laugh.

"Mmm," Owen groaned as he came back into consciousness. He cracked one of his eyes open only to close it again when the bright sunrays blinded him.

He noticed that his body felt leaden to the point where couldn't move, while taking every ounce of strength he had not to fall back into the darkness that beckoned him, and something caught his attention. He was naked and the familiar sting of panic shot through him when he smelt the sickly sent of blood flooded his nose. His eyes snapped open and he got a glimpse of the ceiling above.

After confirming that he could only move very slightly he found that the sickly sent was coming from him. Oh God! His mind screamed. He tilted his head forward to see his arms had been sliced to shreds, his blood adorning the sheets that used to be white. The blood was still flowing quickly leading him to the conclusion that they had been cut open recently.

Was Dodger set on trying to kill him, or was this a new sick and twisted game? Surely he'd die from blood loss if he didn't get help soon. But he could move, and couldn't shout for help.

Fatigue hit him once again, sending his head back down onto his pillow. His eyes drifting shut, and his mouth opening slightly as if to call out for help but not succeeding as his lips closed again.

Then there was a knock at the door. "Owen, it's me Tom again. Breakfast starts in less than fifteen minutes in the mess hall, I was wondering if you wanted to come down with me, and maybe eat lunch with the gang again, like old times."

Owen's eyes drifted open with much effort, and for the first time since he had been back here he hoped Tom would just come in. His hopes for help were dashed when he heard Tom's familiar sigh and then footsteps. "Tom," Owen called his voice not very loud.

"Owen?" Tom asked curiously from outside the door, apparently not sure if he'd actually heard his name being called. "I'm coming in Owen."

Owen was now worried that the door had been locked again after whatever Dodger had done to him while he was out cold.

The door swung open to reveal Owen's old roommate. "Owen!" Tom shouted running into the room. "What the fuck happened?"

When Owen didn't speak Tom rushed over to him, placing his hands on either side of Owen's face. "Hey bro, can you hear me?"

Owen nodded his head slightly, silently thanking the big man upstairs for having mercy on him.

"Shit, I gotta get some help!" Tom told him, turning his head towards the door. "Randall! Graham!" The other two teenagers rushed into the room to see what the ruckus was about.

"Oh god, what happened?" Graham asked while Randall ran from the room presumable going to find help.

"I don't know, I think he was attacked…" Tom told him. "Stay awake Owen," Tom coached.

No matter how bad Owen wanted to stay awake, and how much he knew it would help, he drifted off into oblivion.


TBC... I hope you enjoyed it! Review are welcomed and appreciated!