Chapter Three:
Kill? is a Four-Letter Word
I put my fist in front of my face and slowly extend my fingers. Twisting my hand around so I could view the front and back.
It was coated with a dark red liquid. I knew enough to guess it was blood, but who it belonged to, I had no clue.
Both of my hands had blood on them, but I don't remember where it came from.
A sharp pain shot through the back of my head, and my eyes widened. I jerked my hand up to reach the spot, and instantly sighed in relief. The blood wasn't mine.
But that feeling only lasted for a moment, because now I was wondering whose it actually was. I couldn't have killed someone, could I?
That question was pounding in the back of my mind, but an answer never presented itself. It was right there, like it was on the tip of my tongue, but I could not form it into any words.
In fact, I couldn't receive answers to any of the questions that were swirling around.
Where was I?
Why was I here?
Why did I pass out?
And more importantly, who am I?
It was like I had been heavily drunk my entire life, to the point where no memories could be formed.
I took a moment, or probably longer, to just sit there, staring off into the deep night, and taking in my surroundings. It was my only hope of getting any recollection of my existence.
The area had a moldy smell, like expired food, or even sewage. Also, there was a whiff of alcohol. I glanced to my side and noticed the source, a trash can which was filled to the brim mostly with empty glass bottles, but was accompanied with food wrappers and the such.
I was leaning against a brick wall, which was covered with graffiti. Some of it was kind of neat, but the most was rather inappropriate.
It seemed to be a shady alley way. The most looking around did, was creep me out. This was probably a good place to get away with murder.
I shook off the thought and decided my time was probably better spent elsewhere. I extended my legs, in an attempt to stand up, but my knees gave out and it wasn't long before I was back to the way I was before.
I repeated my previous endeavor, but this time I supported myself by leaning against the wall. Before I left, however, I slide off the thin jacket I had been wearing. I whip my bloody hands off and toss the evidence into the trash bin.
It was best not to be accused of anything when there was still a slim chance I was innocent. Besides, the crime was still unknown.
I stumbled along, probably looking like I was drunk, which was kind of suited my surroundings.
As I twisted the corner, I noticed motorcycles lined up. There was an odd substance on the ground beside them, which was probably vomit.
Also, there was loud yelling and fists flying. Two men where fighting, both of which only could speak slurred words. They kept stumbling backwards, which actually worked to each of their benefit. It oddly enough helped them dodge the punches, but not all of them. They were both very much drunk.
I was beside a bar. Had my accident been due to a similar bar fight?
There was something out of place, though. One man. He was leaning against the corner off the old building, staring off and ignoring the evidently pointless brawl occurring not five feet from him.
He was wearing all black, and had a hoodie draped over his head. His eyes kept dodging around, looking for something or, perhaps, someone.
That was until his eyes locked with mine, and after that everything became a confusing blur. He burst out into a full speed sprint. His target, me. Adrenaline flowing through my body I seemed to forget the pain and was able to move without having something to lean on.
After that, he acted as if he was my shadow. Every turn I took, he took. Every path I ran down, he followed suit.
Step by step, turn by turn, every building we passed by was just a little closer to him catching me. He even matched his steps up with mine, so I couldn't actually tell if he continued in his journey to catch me.
I did know one thing, however, my weak legs could only carry me for so much longer before they gave out again.
I gasped. I knew it was just a dream, well, memory, but the thought still scared me. He could still be out there, looking for me, and it wouldn't be long before he found me.
I blinked a couple of times, adjusting my eyes to the blaring lights. I was laying down on the couch, similarly to the previous night.
I did not sit up this time, for the room was filled with voices that I did not recognize. Perhaps it was not best to trust Riker. Or what if I had been found?
Either way, I attempted to keep the fact that I was awake unknown.
"Why is she still here Riker?" A masculine voice spoke. So he knows Riker.. "She could be a crazed fan for all we know!"
Wait, fan of what exactly?
"Stop freaking out Rocky! She didn't even recognize me, so I highly doubt she is a fan." Riker commented.
So, what? He is famous?
"She might be a good actor though," a feminine voice added.
"Well, when I met her she was drowning, and I doubt a fan would go to that extent. And even if they did, it was pitch black outside, she would not of seen who I was until I was actually standing in front of her." Riker said, starting to sound annoyed at the conversation.
"What if she is a criminal? Because for all we know, she could be!" A different masculine voice spoke up.
"Ross has a point, Riker, we don't know anything about this girl. She could just be using this as a safe house!" Rocky, I think is his name, said.
"It is a good way to escape police. I mean we are in a tour bus, driving miles from where we picked her up. It was also at a place without cameras. The police will never be able to find her." Another male continued.
Someone sighed after that comment, sounding like they had become frustrated. I could not tell who it was, however, because the group was not in my sight.
"Do you guys remember Ashley?" Riker started, the room all of the sudden got silent. It sounded like a sensitive subject. "She would be here right now, with us. But everyone who drove by her were too scared to stop and help her. She told everyone how she was being followed. No one listened. They just drove on because they feared the reason why she was. She was raped and left to die, but she didn't die that quickly. She was lost and needed guidance, which she was not given quick enough. So she died, waiting for help that would never come."
He paused before continuing, "We would still have our friend if people were not too quick to judge. That's why she's here, okay? We're just giving her a few days, and then we'll contact the police. Besides, she isn't in good enough shape to do any of us any harm."
"That's fine by me." The only female in the group spoke, attempting to change the subject. She sounded sad, and I don't blame her. The event was tragic and depressing; I can only imagine how it would be for someone who actually knew the person.
Coming to the conclusion that none of them would hurt me, I slowly sat up, acting as if I had just woken up.
Riker cleared his throat and walked over to my side. "Good morning," he said.
I nodded not really sure if I agree with his statement.
"Well I'd like you to meet my siblings and good friend."
I looked over to the group that had just been talking. All of them were strangers, which really is not a surprise. Most people are to me.
There were four guys, two blondes and two brunets, and a blonde girl. The youngest guy spoke up first, "I'm Ryland."
"I'm Ross" the older blonde. He looked kind of like a younger version of Riker. His hair looked messy, and was also pushed to the side of his face.
"I'm Rocky," one of the brunets said. He had longer hair than the other, with it falling about at his shoulders.
"I'm Rydel," the girl said. She had long blonde wavy hair.
"And I'm the family friend, Ellington Ratliff, but most people just call me Ratliff." The other brunet said. He's hair was fairly short, stopping just above the ear.
I nodded in response, not quite sure what to say considering I do not know my own name. "Uh.. It's nice to meet you all.." I mumbled, my voice sounding weak and strained.
I had barely paid attention to the room before know. It had two sort of couches sitting across from each other. It was a semi-large room considering it on a RV. There was also a large TV on the wall.
After that everyone sat down on the couches, me being awkwardly at the very end of the couch and avoiding eye contact. Riker was the one sitting next to me, which I suppose made it a little better.
The atmosphere, though, was very pleasant. Everyone was joking around, and you could tell they all cared a lot about each other.
It was a really strange sight, everyone messing around with each other and not worrying about anything else in that moment.
I wonder if there was a point in my life where I've been as peaceful as this group of people. Maybe I even had people who cared about me, perhaps a family.
But that frightened me, because even though I envied this small tight knit group of people, I actually feared that there was someone out there, waiting for me. They could be scared to death right now, and I did not wish that on anyone. So that question bugged me more than anything.
Is there someone out there waiting for me to return?
I do not own R5 or Austin and Ally.
Why did she have blood on her hands?
Why was she being chased?
Answers will come soon enough.
In case you did not notice, the flashbacks are in reverse order. It's now up to date on how much she remembers.
Also, I'm going to start responding to your reviews, so if you have any questions, just ask! :)
Ash: Thank you! :) And yes Raura will be Ross+Laura. But remember that will just be a minor relationship. The main will be with the OC (who will later receive a name) and one of the other brothers.
