Guns N' Roses

Chapter One

Author's Note: It's a thriller. Obviously, this is starting off in the middle. So don’t think that you're not supposed to get confused. You are. To an extent at least.  Enjoy! Ps: Guess what makes her different! Comment below if you got it before the end. 

                                                                                       *

 Guns N' Roses

Chapter One

I'd never heard of the band. Never heard a single person mention its name. It was a foreign word to me. A disease. But this man, this man who looked at me like a sister, helped me from the dungeon I call home, kidnapped me against my will to make me escape, he was waiting for an answer. 

Do you like this band? Guns N Roses? They're awesome! I said yes. The simplest answer that I could remember. I don’t know exactly why I said that. I've never known. I asked him once, Travis. He said he didn't know either. But there are a lot of things he didn't know. A lot of things he shouldn’t.

I turned the radio on to full blast, enjoying the look of happiness on his face, relishing the way his feet and fingers tapped to the pitches of the song. His head was bobbing up and down with the vibrations of the radio. I could feel the vibrations in my heart now. The music was feeding my soul. Making it stronger.Making it want blood.

'What are you doing?'

I quickly put my hand down from his headrest and looked ahead at the road. Calm I told myself. Don't give in to that monster. Control it.

I blinked and concentrated on the road. Driving was a difficult experience. One I had yet to grasp. 

'What were you trying to do to me?' he asked slowly, taking his time. I looked at him, memorising the road so I could continue for a half kilometre more without looking back. 

Three seconds had passed. Enough time for him to take my head and smash it into the steering wheel. I wouldn't be surprised if he did, so I kept my guard up. 

'What am I doing?' I answered his question with a question, barely a second after. He was slow. He took longer.

'You can’t just come up on me like that.' he turned to face the window. The radio was hitting a high pitch, but his voice was clear to me. Silence or noise, it didn’t make a difference. 'Pretty scary when you want to be.'

'I do not intend to.' I told him truthfully. 'It was a lapse of judgement.'

'Judgement?' he asked incredulously, staring at me. 'If I hadn’t turned who knows what you would have done?'

'I would have simply stabbed your neck and pushed you into that black surface. Then you would be immobilised. No longer a threat. I would leave you in the-'

'Enough!' he screamed. 'Enough.' He was calm. But he was angry. And when someone is angry, they are scared. Why was he scared? 'Stop...You have to stop thinking like that! You can't just ... be like that. You have to change!' 

'You can’t change.' I told him. My half kilometre was up. I turned back to the road. It was grassy on either side after the next 100 yards. I would have to be careful about the depth of the land off the tarmac. 

'What do you mean? Everyone can change! Can't you try to stop it?' 

'I meant that you, specifically, cannot change. The more you change, the more different you become from what I have known you to be and I would have to leave you and I might not be able to bear that.'