"Rob the Thrill" (CG5 fanfiction)

Alice / Chapter eight

My body is still trembling from that. He almost shot us, or threatened to. Oh my god, he really is mad...

I shouldn't even be going with him in his car, but Marshall kicked us out, and there's nowhere to go.

I have to ride with this man, and I'm afraid that he's going to do something.

Charlie puffs out air in anger. He looks at his phone and I see that he's on Twitter. He looks really angry.

"Shoot!" He slams his hand on the wheel, it makes me jump. My heart thuds.

"What happened?" I say.

"All these jerks on Twitter found out I robbed a bank! Everyone hates me now!"

He pulls out of the driveway and speeds to his house. I'm scared.

At first, I was shocked that I'm seeing my favorite music artist, but now I don't know what I think of him anymore.

It's six as I look at the time. He takes a sharp left and pulls into his house's driveway.

We're back here again.

I feel something metal-like on my hand. I look down, seeing it's the gun he gave back to me, for some reason.

Charlie The Psycho gets out of the car and grabs my arm tight, his nails digging into my skin, leading me into the house.

He is pissed. I feel the tense air. This is not good.

He drags me to his studio, shutting the door with a slam. My heart is beating fast as if saying run. But there's nowhere to go now.

I'm trapped, and CG5 looks at me with a crazy eye. The gun is at my hand.

Charlie narrows his blue eyes and suddenly aims his gun at me. I step back, yelling, putting my own gun up, for defense.

Who knows what he'll do after that Marshall House Incident...

He chuckles. "Alice..." I wince. He says my name so smooth and crisp. Alice. It's creepy.

He is going to kill me. I think. I hope not, but the evil look in his eyes gives the vibes I am not his first, nor last.

My orange glasses fall off, as already broken as they are, but I don't care right now.

"You did this. Didn't you?!" he fucking screams at me. "You set me up!" He's blaming me.

He's blaming me! For what? I didn't even do anything! He's the one—

He clicks the trigger, and in this red-walled studio, I notice the blood on the chair; a splatter of it, dried. I pull the trigger, an instinct that just happened in me, but the gun does nothing.

Charles Green laughs. "It's fricking empty, you jerk." He comes closer to me, and I take a step back.

He gave me a fake. I should have known. I should have known he was not like in the livestreams he presented as, as the calm, innocent, kind, beast. He's a madman.

And he's about to shoot me to pieces. And now he's blaming me for his crimes.

I scramble my brain for something to do, but my mind goes blank. He's right at my nose, putting the cold, icy nozzle of the handgun to my forehead, just like I watched him did with Marshall.

"I'm going to—"

A bang of something falls, and the studio door flies open. Police trample in and Charlie wraps his hand around my neck in a chokehold, holding the gun to my head. My heart is pounding so fast, my hands go numb. My body colds. I drop my fake gun, landing on the hardwood.