"Andriel Busch's death has been concluded as a murder through the evidences; police in search for the wanted criminal who is supposedly his only son, Ashton Busch. The twenty one year old youngster is said to have a similar appearance as his father's. Blue eyes..."
The news anchor went off, describing every feature of his face, seeming too energetic to be reporting at 1 AM. Ashton sat on the grey couch on something soft that seemed to be his best friend's leg.
Wesley had slept early on the couch, legs spread like a starfish and Luna obviously took the bed to herself, leaving no option for Ashton but to sit on his friend's legs while he watched the news reporter blabber on and on about his absence.
He saw how some people, who seemed to be his dad's raged fans, had conducted rallies around his giant, palace-like house. There were a bunch of banners and slogans that they carried along throughout the time.
"We Want Justice! We Want Justice!" The sorrowful yet enraged voices sang, making Ashton uncomfortable as he shifted on his spot.
"Police, Investigate!"
"Find That Bastard!"
"Justice For Our Hero!"
The huge banners tainted in colour red caught his eye when the video of their rally replayed over and over. He wasn't surprised; he had expected that. What he didn't expect was the impact this whole thing had on him.
He thought he'd be okay. But apparently he wasn't. He was terrified of what was to come. He didn't know how he would handle the situation once everything is revealed, he couldn't feel like himself anymore.
Anxiety dripped down his forehead in the form of sweat as his hands clutched onto his sweatpants. He couldn't do this anymore.
He made a huge mistake. However, it was irreversible. And it irked him every second he spent living in the lie he had created in the form of the comfort of his best friend.
He couldn't hide for too long anyways. What would be so wrong about surrendering right now? He will have to someday eventually.
He got up from the spot, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to calm down his ragged breathing. He switched off the television and walked out of the hotel room, leaving behind the two peacefully sleeping without a care.
He dragged his feet on the dark corridor, forcing himself out of the place. He got some weird, questioning looks from the workers but ignored them without a second thought. Without any mask covering his pretty face that everyone was in search of, he walked. He walked without thinking.
Once he was out, he looked around for a minute. The hotel was towards the end of an unpopular city and the highway was as silent as ever. He stared for another minute, but he could find no one. It was eerie, terrifying indeed. However, it was comforting in a way. It seemed just like his mind. Empty.
Only a streetlight towards an extreme end shone upon the area with greenery quite evident in the vast expanse. He could hear the crickets chirping as he walked further to nowhere in particular. He felt so lost to care about the path he had chosen.
A thought struck his mind that instant. Who was he to argue or explain himself? He was in the wrong and he was supposed to surrender. But was he really gonna give up that easily and spend the rest of his life in prison? His life that he cherished so much.
He had too many dreams to let go of too easily. Dreams that were now crushed.
He wanted to spend his time in this world in the happiest way possible. Was it possible if he always held a regret in his heart? But it wasn't possible if he threw himself to the cops either.
YOU ARE READING
Frenemies First
Teen Fiction"Ladies first." "Frenemies first." "Shut up you two, let me go." What's better than a troubled murderer, an impulsive extrovert and a good-for-nothing detective bonding to achieve nothing yet everything?
