I'm baaaaack! It's been awhile folks, but guess what? I'm baaaaack!
These chapters are going to be up and moving soon! YEEEES!
This story has been in my head forever and finally you beautiful readers get to read it. I feel so happy, I could sing! But I won't do that to you, my wonderful readers.
Whew, calm down Akila. I'm a bit hyped, as it may be. Got the Internet today, get to watch the "Scorpion King" and just saw "Behind Enemy Lines." That's a great movie, by the way. Owen Wilson is great! It's given me some great inspiration, not to mention I've just read some really good theories about Chris Jericho and Stephanie . . . but I'll let you find that all your own!
So, without any more pretenses, I give you the next chapter of "The Only Way Out is In."
Chapter Four
"Let's take my van," said Kurt, his eyes sparkling with determination and plain weariness. "It's a mini-van."
"Where'd you get the money to rent a van?" asked Mark, suspiciously, vainly trying to keep his mind away from the troubling matters at hand.
Kurt's ears went red. "Well, you see, the guy who sold it to me-"
"Was a fan," said Vince, laughing as they the elevator clanged open.
"He looked like a fan!" said Kurt defensively. "Also my cousin! My cousin's a lawyer, damn you, so don't you even think about anything funny now . . . ouch, don't push me!'
"Sorry," Mark said innocently. "Just get your ass to hurry up."
"Picky, picky." Kurt marched determinedly outside the doors of the hotel into the parking lot, where he promptly almost got hit by a car. "Damn you! What? Go to hell!"
"You know, people can always sue," Vince remarked.
"Cousin, lawyer, my ass dosen't care."
They reached the silver Astrovan in the next five minutes, Kurt still limping from his injuries that he had received. Kurt climbed into the driver's seat, Vince the passenger, and Mark was left with the back.
"Fasten your seatbelts, boys and girls," announced Kurt, warming the engine up, "we're blasting off in a few seconds."
Mark didn't bother; how harmful could docile Kurt be?
Besides, he thought, a flame of anger jerking through his mind, I have to figure out how the hell Chris is going to die when I find him.
The van moved slowly backward as Kurt righted it. "Hang on," he announced again and his foot slammed into the gas pedal.
"KURT!" Mark shrieked, falling backwards, sliding into the window.
"I said to put your seatbelt on!" Kurt hollered, slamming into traffic before he even stopped to look. "Oopsies!"
"Oopsies?" roared Vince, struggling fiercely with his belt. "What the hell does 'oopsies' mean?"
"Just that-oopsies double!" Kurt said it almost giddily as narrowly avoided smashing into a parked car.
"KURT!"
"Boy, it's hot in here." Rolling down his window, they came to a lull in traffic.
"I can't believe you," Vince said murderously. "Who the hell gave you your license?"
"Uh . . . well, it's sort of revoked, but I get it back in six months, don't worry," Kurt said, almost nonchalantly. "If the judge decides that the accident was purely the girl's fault."
"Accident?" Mark's voice was horrified.
"Yeah, she pulled in front of me and I hit her. She cracked her neck, but she should be okay."
"Neck?" Mark sounded even more terrified.
"Yeah, but if the judge decided it wasn't my fault, I get the remains of my car back with no extra cost and I can have a proper burial."
"Burial?"
"Yeah-light's green, let's carry on." Kurt applied pressure to the gas again and they went forward.
Chapter Five
They took pictures.
Barely conscious, I had subjected to everything, even to their damn questioning, even when I knew I shouldn't have. The alcohol I had consumed was taking its toll. They tested my level, my eyes, my ears, my mind.
The pictures were the most annoying, and the fingerprinting. They wouldn't let me clean myself of the blood until they had removed every sample from my body.
The blood of the body.
Oh God, what had happened? I could hardly remember. They asked me that question, hammered it into my head during the questioning. And I had no answer for them.
What answer could I have?
I didn't do it!
That was the only thing that rang through my mind. I couldn't have done it. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me.
I couldn't kill somebody. I couldn't!
Oh God, what were they going to do to me?
They stuck in a cell.
Staggering over to the small bed, I collapsed onto it, worn out and desperate. Ortiz, the damn police chief, had given me nothing but the go ahead to clean myself up. I was alone in this damn cell, with only thoughts and the blood clinging to my hands. Lying back on the bunk, I tried to reconstruct the last moments of the world as I had known it.
I had drinks . . . I had walked outside the door . . . which door? The door to where? December?
No . . . not December . . . to an alley. Disoriented, I had walked outside to the trash alley. And . . .
I froze rigidly. My breath began to come out painfully; I could barely see.
No. It had been . . . him. The entity with no name. The figure that had haunted me in my dreams while I had slept.
No. I had left that labyrinth long ago.
But it had been . . .
NO!
I sat back against the wall, banging my bloody head against the cold steel for all I was worth, forgetting that a concussion was still dominant within my mind.
No. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.
But this is what everybody does, I though in a daze. No acceptance of the inevitable.
But why? Why now? Why did it have to be now, after all these years?
And the threat.
He had threatened me. The words played back again: if you tell, I will kill you.
I had no reason to doubt that he wouldn't. He had almost done it before, only time had stopped him from completing his horrendous task.
I began to tremble.
No, not again. I had suffered enough. Why in this way?
He had always been one to make me suffer. He was making me suffer now, rotting in this prison of steel and the prison of my own mind . . .
Suffer the children.
The saying that was glorification and pitiful. Suffer the little children. Like he was making me suffer now.
No.
But if was making me suffer . . . he had killed the lady! I had not!
I was innocent and not stuck in this mess that I had dragged myself into!
But he was going to kill me.
In blood.
But it wasn't me.
But he would kill me.
I trembled again, shivering violently. He was going to kill me if I told.
I can't tell. I can't tell anything!
Determinedly, I stared forward at the wall, my head slipping toward my shoulder.
There were two simple choices: I could tell and be cleared, possibly. The second was that I could not tell and not be killed.
There really was no other option.
I had suffered enough already. There was nothing in the world that could make me live through what I already lived through.
Suffer the little children.
Yes, I know, very chaotic, but I really wanted you guys to get a feel of what he's feeling right now and the mind frame. That's important to me, conveying real feelings and real life.
Oh yeah, major shout out to all of you who reviewed. Next time I'll name you specifically, but it is about eleven at night, I have to go and help at a ROTC carwash tomorrow, and believe me, I know what it feels like to not have enough sleep! So I'll catch all of you guys later who reviewed and thanks again!
Akila
This story has been in my head forever and finally you beautiful readers get to read it. I feel so happy, I could sing! But I won't do that to you, my wonderful readers.
Whew, calm down Akila. I'm a bit hyped, as it may be. Got the Internet today, get to watch the "Scorpion King" and just saw "Behind Enemy Lines." That's a great movie, by the way. Owen Wilson is great! It's given me some great inspiration, not to mention I've just read some really good theories about Chris Jericho and Stephanie . . . but I'll let you find that all your own!
So, without any more pretenses, I give you the next chapter of "The Only Way Out is In."
Chapter Four
"Let's take my van," said Kurt, his eyes sparkling with determination and plain weariness. "It's a mini-van."
"Where'd you get the money to rent a van?" asked Mark, suspiciously, vainly trying to keep his mind away from the troubling matters at hand.
Kurt's ears went red. "Well, you see, the guy who sold it to me-"
"Was a fan," said Vince, laughing as they the elevator clanged open.
"He looked like a fan!" said Kurt defensively. "Also my cousin! My cousin's a lawyer, damn you, so don't you even think about anything funny now . . . ouch, don't push me!'
"Sorry," Mark said innocently. "Just get your ass to hurry up."
"Picky, picky." Kurt marched determinedly outside the doors of the hotel into the parking lot, where he promptly almost got hit by a car. "Damn you! What? Go to hell!"
"You know, people can always sue," Vince remarked.
"Cousin, lawyer, my ass dosen't care."
They reached the silver Astrovan in the next five minutes, Kurt still limping from his injuries that he had received. Kurt climbed into the driver's seat, Vince the passenger, and Mark was left with the back.
"Fasten your seatbelts, boys and girls," announced Kurt, warming the engine up, "we're blasting off in a few seconds."
Mark didn't bother; how harmful could docile Kurt be?
Besides, he thought, a flame of anger jerking through his mind, I have to figure out how the hell Chris is going to die when I find him.
The van moved slowly backward as Kurt righted it. "Hang on," he announced again and his foot slammed into the gas pedal.
"KURT!" Mark shrieked, falling backwards, sliding into the window.
"I said to put your seatbelt on!" Kurt hollered, slamming into traffic before he even stopped to look. "Oopsies!"
"Oopsies?" roared Vince, struggling fiercely with his belt. "What the hell does 'oopsies' mean?"
"Just that-oopsies double!" Kurt said it almost giddily as narrowly avoided smashing into a parked car.
"KURT!"
"Boy, it's hot in here." Rolling down his window, they came to a lull in traffic.
"I can't believe you," Vince said murderously. "Who the hell gave you your license?"
"Uh . . . well, it's sort of revoked, but I get it back in six months, don't worry," Kurt said, almost nonchalantly. "If the judge decides that the accident was purely the girl's fault."
"Accident?" Mark's voice was horrified.
"Yeah, she pulled in front of me and I hit her. She cracked her neck, but she should be okay."
"Neck?" Mark sounded even more terrified.
"Yeah, but if the judge decided it wasn't my fault, I get the remains of my car back with no extra cost and I can have a proper burial."
"Burial?"
"Yeah-light's green, let's carry on." Kurt applied pressure to the gas again and they went forward.
Chapter Five
They took pictures.
Barely conscious, I had subjected to everything, even to their damn questioning, even when I knew I shouldn't have. The alcohol I had consumed was taking its toll. They tested my level, my eyes, my ears, my mind.
The pictures were the most annoying, and the fingerprinting. They wouldn't let me clean myself of the blood until they had removed every sample from my body.
The blood of the body.
Oh God, what had happened? I could hardly remember. They asked me that question, hammered it into my head during the questioning. And I had no answer for them.
What answer could I have?
I didn't do it!
That was the only thing that rang through my mind. I couldn't have done it. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me.
I couldn't kill somebody. I couldn't!
Oh God, what were they going to do to me?
They stuck in a cell.
Staggering over to the small bed, I collapsed onto it, worn out and desperate. Ortiz, the damn police chief, had given me nothing but the go ahead to clean myself up. I was alone in this damn cell, with only thoughts and the blood clinging to my hands. Lying back on the bunk, I tried to reconstruct the last moments of the world as I had known it.
I had drinks . . . I had walked outside the door . . . which door? The door to where? December?
No . . . not December . . . to an alley. Disoriented, I had walked outside to the trash alley. And . . .
I froze rigidly. My breath began to come out painfully; I could barely see.
No. It had been . . . him. The entity with no name. The figure that had haunted me in my dreams while I had slept.
No. I had left that labyrinth long ago.
But it had been . . .
NO!
I sat back against the wall, banging my bloody head against the cold steel for all I was worth, forgetting that a concussion was still dominant within my mind.
No. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.
But this is what everybody does, I though in a daze. No acceptance of the inevitable.
But why? Why now? Why did it have to be now, after all these years?
And the threat.
He had threatened me. The words played back again: if you tell, I will kill you.
I had no reason to doubt that he wouldn't. He had almost done it before, only time had stopped him from completing his horrendous task.
I began to tremble.
No, not again. I had suffered enough. Why in this way?
He had always been one to make me suffer. He was making me suffer now, rotting in this prison of steel and the prison of my own mind . . .
Suffer the children.
The saying that was glorification and pitiful. Suffer the little children. Like he was making me suffer now.
No.
But if was making me suffer . . . he had killed the lady! I had not!
I was innocent and not stuck in this mess that I had dragged myself into!
But he was going to kill me.
In blood.
But it wasn't me.
But he would kill me.
I trembled again, shivering violently. He was going to kill me if I told.
I can't tell. I can't tell anything!
Determinedly, I stared forward at the wall, my head slipping toward my shoulder.
There were two simple choices: I could tell and be cleared, possibly. The second was that I could not tell and not be killed.
There really was no other option.
I had suffered enough already. There was nothing in the world that could make me live through what I already lived through.
Suffer the little children.
Yes, I know, very chaotic, but I really wanted you guys to get a feel of what he's feeling right now and the mind frame. That's important to me, conveying real feelings and real life.
Oh yeah, major shout out to all of you who reviewed. Next time I'll name you specifically, but it is about eleven at night, I have to go and help at a ROTC carwash tomorrow, and believe me, I know what it feels like to not have enough sleep! So I'll catch all of you guys later who reviewed and thanks again!
Akila