Chapter 12

My eyes shoot open with my gasp. The world is completely upside down… no, wait. It’s just the bus. There was a crash. Sucking in a huge breath, I lie on the wall of the tour bus, trying to collect my thoughts. What just happened? I was trying to plan my escape from Oliver. But then he vanished. Dazed and confused, I try to sit up but collapse back down when pain shoots through my body. Okay. Time to take this slowly. I wiggle my fingers and toes gently. Nothing seems to be broken, that I can tell. I’m just sore from being thrown around in this mobile Pringles can.

Slowly, I try to sit up again, my body fighting me the whole way. I glance around the room. I can’t see much through the darkness, but from what I can see, the bedroom is now in complete disarray. Everything that wasn’t bolted down is now strewn all over the room.

I want to call for help, but I’m afraid of who might actually come to find me. The last time I saw Oliver, before the crash, he was acting insane. He actually scared me, something I didn’t think he was even capable of. The Oliver I knew would have instead killed himself rather than cause me pain, fear, or sadness. However, after the events with Hannah and his disappearance, I’m not even sure I have that right anymore. I don’t want to find out whatever he had planned for me, before the crash distracted him. I’m finding it hard to believe that he actually disappeared in front of my very eyes. I can’t think about that, or I might actually lose my mind before I can escape this damn bus.

Although, now that I think about it, where is Oliver? Where are the rest of the band? Without the music, and with the side of the bus currently caved in from its hit to the road, it’s eerily silent in here. I think I can hear the sound of the wheels spinning, but I’m not sure. I shake my head. The sounds don’t matter as long as they’re not Oli. I need to leave before he finds me.

God, I don’t even know where I am. I push the surge of fear that passes through me at that thought down. One step at a time. First step: getting the hell out of this bus.

Glancing around the room, I spot a window next to the bed that I can maybe squeeze through. Worth a shot, at least. Reluctantly pushing myself to a stand, I feel something liquid sliding down my cheek. I lift my hand to my face, where I find a slick substance coating the left side of my face. Pulling my hand away, the moonlight now illuminating the room reveals that my hand is painted red. Blood. Where is the injury? Lifting my hand once more, I feel around my head, trying to find the source of the bleeding. My fingers graze over a wound on my forehead, and I hiss at the contact. But as my fingers linger there, I can feel the edges of my skin pulling together. I glide my fingers over the spot again—besides the slickness of the blood, the wound is gone. What the hell? I think I need to get to a hospital because I’m clearly hallucinating.

I shake my head. Escape first, Dani—hospital second.

Slowly making my way through the debris and damaged items scattered across the room, I reach the window. I open the blinds fully, find and throw the latch to unlock the window, and, with a slight wince of pain as I put all my strength into the motion, I push the window open.

Using the nightstand next to the bed as a step stool, I climb through the window completely gracelessly and drop to the ground. A sharp pain cuts through my ankle as I stumble on the landing. That was not a perfect dismount, to be sure. I shake out the injured ankle, taking a few careful steps to walk the pain out, and make sure I didn’t break anything getting myself out of this horrible situation. Wouldn’t that just be typical?

After determining I’m okay, I realize the dull throb in my ankles from the fall is completely gone. I look to see if there’s anything I recognize, any landmark, but am horrified to discover that I am quite literally in the middle of nowhere. It’s the middle of the night so there aren’t even really that many cars on the highway either. The only one I did see pass didn’t slow down to check on the massive bus crash on the side of the highway. I can’t even hear any sirens. Fuck. I am absolutely stranded.

I turn back to the wreck and wince at the sight of the devastation before me. The bus is tipped on its side in the grass just off the side of the highway, the area lit by the flickering headlights of the tour bus. Besides the obvious damage caused from the wreck, I can’t see any damage that would have knocked over a tour bus. What even caused us to crash like that anyways?

Walking a little further towards the front of the bus, I hear shouting coming from the opposite end of the crash site. I could try to make a run for it, but I’m not sure how far I would even make it in my condition. Maybe I could hitch a ride? Yeah, right. No way am I getting in a car with a stranger, not after everything that’s happened tonight. That’s just asking for trouble. Unfortunately, my only other option is to just stay here. Not ideal, especially since I can only assume the shouting involves Oliver.

I creep back towards where I hear the shouting, trying to stay hidden while still getting a closer look at what’s going on. Maybe I’ll know what to do if I know who’s shouting. I roll my eyes at myself but keep moving until I see a group of men in a heated argument. I shy back when I catch a glimpse of Oliver and the band but furrow my brow at the sight of others. Wait. I squint in confusion. Is that… Chris? I hear the man’s voice, shivers passing through my body, and I know without a doubt in my mind that Chris is here. Why is he even here? How is he even here? There’s no way he knew where to find us, and after he told me to be safe, it’s unlikely that he followed me. Fuck. I need to focus.

There are two other men besides Chris, but I don’t recognize them. Would Chris and his friends save me, or damn me? I wish I knew how everything would go with any certainty, but they might be my only option here since staying with Oliver… not a chance. But Oliver won’t just let me go. This could all go horribly wrong, especially since it’s still five against three. The odds are not actually in Chris’ favor. Assuming he even wants to help me.

I don’t have any other options. Taking slow, deep breaths, I build up the courage to show myself. There is only one way this can end. I need to do whatever it takes to get away from Oliver.

Stepping out from behind the bus, I take a few steps towards the shouting men. As I get closer to the group, they all go silent, although I don’t think it’s because of me.

But Chris’ head twists around to look right at me as if he can sense me standing there. He stares into my eyes, a look of shocked relief covering his features. I can’t look away from him, even with the threat of Oliver and his bandmates standing so close to me. I’m speechless.

I blink my eyes, and Chris is standing in front of me. I jump at his sudden appearance, backing away slowly before his voice stops me in my tracks.

“Danica, your head. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He’s rapid firing questions at me, but I can’t even bring myself to listen to them. My mind is still trying to process how he moved so fast. “The wound is closed. And you’re still human,” he murmurs so low I almost don’t catch the words. Before I can question that weird ass comment, he touches my arm. An electric tingle shoots through me at the feel of his hand on my skin, snapping me from my thoughts. I think… Chris is safe. I don’t know why it feels like I’ve been electrocuted anytime he touches me, but as unsettling as that feeling is, I’m drawn to his presence. I stand still next to him, feeling myself leaning into him for comfort. I can’t back away from this man.

“Yeah, I hit my head on… something. I don’t know. What’s going on?”

Before Chris can respond, Oliver darts behind him. I gasp in shock, I didn’t even see Oliver move. He slams his hand on Chris’ shoulder, forcing him around, and punches him in the face—the force of the blow landing with a dull thud. Oliver’s face is contorted in feral hatred as he rains repeated punches on Chris. My heart stammers in fear, I think he’s trying to kill Chris.

I cover my mouth with trembling hands. I’m terrified, but… I’m surprised to realize that all of my terror is for Chris. I have to stop this.

Crying out, I lunge for Oliver, trying to grab his arm to make him stop. It’s no use, though, because I can’t even grab ahold of Oliver. He just keeps hitting Chris, who’s laughing. Wait, he’s laughing?

On Chris’ face is a sadistic, bloody smile, as Oliver strikes him repeatedly—his laugh is manic, and he isn’t even trying to avoid his fists. In between punches, Chris notices me gaping at him, and the unsettling grin fades from his face. “Shit,” Chris says as he dodges Oliver’s next punch. “Dani, I’m really sorry you have to find out this way. I did try to stop it.” Without missing a beat, Chris snatches Oli by his hoodie and flings him into the side of the bus. I suck in a small intake of air, blinking rapidly at the sheer strength he just exerted. Chris swipes the blood dripping down his face off with his thumb and sucks it off. I’m stunned at what I’m witnessing and, in a confusing turn of events, aroused by the sight of him licking blood off his hands. “By the way, mate,” he mockingly emphasizes his British accent as he stares down at Oliver. “You hit like a bitch.”

“Chris, what the hell is going on right now?” I shout.

He looks at me with those beautiful, warm brown eyes and frowns. “I’ll explain once I take care of this, I promise. I’ll keep you safe, little kitten. But, no matter what he says, don’t go near Oliver.”

I’m backing away again—seems like that’s the story of my evening—then, with a whisper of a sound, Oliver’s in front of me. I jump, alarmed by the sudden change of scenery, terrified by every unexplained fucking thing that’s happened tonight. “HOW are you doing that?” I shriek, but I’m stopped dead in my tracks by Oliver’s face. Oh my god. “Y-your face. Oliver, what…” I’m stammering on my words, unable to finish my sentence. I stare in horror at the man…the thing…that the boy, that was once the love of my life, has become.

Oliver’s eyes, once a hazel green, are now a deep, glowing orange. Where his forehead meets the bridge of his nose, his skin is bumpy and wrinkled. His smile reveals two elongated, pointy canines that look like fangs. He didn’t look like this on the bus. Shit, he didn’t even look like this two seconds ago. He looks like something out of a nightmare. “Is everyone on drugs? Can someone please explain this shit to me!” My heart thrashes in my chest, and I’m trembling like a leaf. I thought I knew fear when I was trapped on the bus with him, but that doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling right now. That was a response to a natural experience. This—this true, undiluted, raw fear I’m experiencing—is from the very unnatural sight in front of me.

Oliver smirks as he watches me back away, those terrifying orange eyes tracking every single move I’m making. “I’m what you made me, pet. When you killed me, remember?” He chuckles to himself, but the sound trails off when his eyes lock onto the blood dripping down my face. His gaze turns feral and ravenous, and his tongue flicks out along his lips. “You got to taste me. I think it’s only fair I get to taste you now, love.” His head tilts to the side as he watches me.

I feel the brush of Chris’ fingers on my arm as he tugs me back a little, taking a step out in front of me to place himself in a protective stance between Oliver and me. “C-Chris? What is happening?” I shakily demand, not taking my eyes off Oliver.

“She’s mine!” Oliver roars at Chris.

“Touch her, and I will fucking kill you,” Chris says matter of factly.

Oliver bares his teeth, growling at Chris before he averts his gaze to me. “Oh, I see what this is. It all makes sense now. You want to fuck my pretty little pet.” Oliver spits at Chris’ feet. “She’s fucking mine, though, mate. Do you know, I had her screaming on my cock not so long ago? God, I can still smell her cum all over me. Her pussy is so fucking sweet. She’ll only be screaming my name from here on out, though. Once I kill her, that’s game fucking over. She’s mine.” Oliver laughs.

In a split second, Oliver is next to me, carefully avoiding Chris with arms outstretched as if to grab me. I flinch back and slam my eyes shut in preparation for the inevitable assault.

But the attack never comes up. I tentatively open my eyes to see Oliver’s face scrunched in pain. He drops his arms to his sides, writhing in what looks like pure agony, before falling to his knees before me, clawing at his skin, grunting and gasping.

I look behind Oliver to see what is causing this strange reaction when my gaze lands on Chris. He’s utterly devastating. Scary but also… hot, like a protective monster that I would happily welcome into my bed. He has the same unnatural facial features as Oliver, but his eyes are the most entrancing bright yellow. Like sunflowers. Is Chris like Oliver?

Chris’ hand is extended in Oli’s direction, palm facing out towards Oliver’s writhing form. Whatever’s causing Oliver’s pain, I think… I think Chris is causing it. I don’t understand any of this. This makes zero sense—it can’t be possible… is this magic? “What are you doing to him?” I say blankly. I have to trust someone here, and it seems like it should be the guy trying to protect me, who’s able to stop Oliver in his tracks. Oliver, who I think was about to kill me. Oh god. I gaze past Chris at where the two men who were with him have the rest of Soulstorm Serenade in fetal positions of agony on the ground. I look back down at Oliver. “Can he hear me?” I ask Chris.

“Yeah, he can answer too. He’s just acting like a fucking pussy right now.” Chris walks over and stands in front of Oliver, his focus still fixed on controlling Oliver or whatever he’s doing to him.

“Oliver,” I snap at him. “Oliver, fucking look at me.” His eyes lock on mine. “Answer me one question. Just this one. It’s the last question I’ll ever ask you.” Oliver twitching, wincing, and gasping, fully incapacitated, but he keeps his gaze on me. “Were you really going to kill me?”

His lip trembles right before he nods his head.

Chris clenches his hand into a fist and twists his wrists. Oliver screams out in pain, but Chris doesn’t even flinch at the sound, his gaze too furious to have any pity for Oliver.

“Why?” I whisper. Oliver doesn’t answer me; he’s just crying in pain. I turned to Chris. “Let him fucking answer me. I deserve to know why.”

Chris opens his fist, pulling his arm back slightly. That seems to alleviate some of Oliver’s pain, enough so that he can catch his breath, even though blood is trickling from his eyes.

“Look at me,” I order him. “I want to know why.”

That alarming, not-quite-human smile is back on Oliver’s face. “You drank my blood, pet.” He looks to Chris, the smile taking on a smug hue. “And you know what that would have meant if she died with my blood running through her veins, don’t you?” Oliver’s laugh is maniacal. “She’s mine. Always has been. She may run to you now, but she’ll come back to me. She always will. You’re a fuckin’ cunt, Chris.”

Rage splashes across Chris’ face, and he kicks Oliver in the chest. Oliver falls backward, landing on his back. With a shout, Chris dives on top of him, punching his fist into Oliver’s chest.

Oliver screams in pain, teeth clenched. His hands are wrapped around Chris’ wrist, trying to stop Chris from going deeper into his chest, but I can see that it’s a losing battle.

I panic at the sight of Oliver so close to death. “Don’t kill him!” I shout at Chris, the words ripping out with zero thought from me.

Chris growls and rips his hand free of Oliver’s chest. He sits back on his knees and, with his bloodied hand, grips Oliver’s shirt, pulling him up so that they’re face to face. “The only reason your heart remains in your chest is because she doesn’t want you dead. Make no mistake, I can end you easily. You are nothing.” Chris laughs cruelly in Oliver’s face, tapping his cheek twice like you would a misbehaving child. “I suggest you take your boys and get the fuck out of here. If you come near Dani again, I will not hesitate next time. If you hurt her, I will watch you die. Slowly. With a smile on my face. I’ll watch as I drain you dry, bleeding from every orifice in your body like the weak, spineless bitch you are.” Gracefully, Chris stands up, dropping both hands to his sides as he comes to stand next to me.

Oliver painstakingly rises, wincing as he stretches up from his position on the ground. “We aren’t finished, pet,” he tells me, his voice low and intimate. Giving Chris the middle finger, he turns to where his bandmates are on the ground, crying out in pain.

Chris’ friends look to Chris, seeking approval to let them go. Chris shrugs at them, and they drop their hold over the rest of the band.

When Oliver gets close to his friends, they all vanish in a black mist.

Oliver has lied to me about many things, but it seems like he told the truth about one thing—I definitely can’t comprehend this. I am in way over my head.