WHO KILLED VICTORIA? | Complete

Chapter Twenty Five | Rivervine

SAMUEL'S BACKSTORY IS FINALLY HERE!

Samuel's POV

A Couple of Years Ago...

I ran. That's all I remember doing. I ran until I couldn't catch a breath anymore. The image of my parents lying there on the ground ate me up inside. Seeing my father put a bullet in his own head after taking my mother's life for a problem that could have easily been talked through. I mean, a lot of people have affairs, but you don't see, "Man shoots himself after he choked his wife and shot at his son's innocent girlfriend." When you hear about a woman having an affair. My father was an imbecile, I respect my mom for finding love behind his back. The man was psycho, and I would never become like him.

I stopped at a gas station not so far from home. I got that feeling that I should turn back and check if Christina was still alive, but my legs wouldn't move in the other direction. I had no destination, but I could not move. I was frozen in place. An innocent boy that was once in love, now a fugitive running away for a crime he didn't commit. The cops hadn't come yet, but I knew how it works in our small town. Funny enough, my father wasn't the only psychopath here. There was a rumor going around about a man named Chris who also murdered his wife and kids in cold blood not so long ago. The story went that Chris' wife threatened to leak footage of him with another woman, and Chris was working in a highly respected company, so, like any sane person, Chris saw that the best way to deal with it is to get rid of his wife. That's not the issue with the story, the cops put him in jail for a life sentence because they could never figure out why he dismantled his children and ripped their arms off. The children who had nothing to do with him fucking another woman, but after the gun shots went off the cops were there in a matter of seconds, so thanks to Chris. I know that running away is the best chance I have at surviving.

I walked into the grocery store at the gas station, fear filling up my soul. I could sense that the cashier knew something was wrong, but he chose not to talk to me about it. It's either because his eyes were too red from all the weed he so obviously smoked a couple of minutes ago, or simply because he's a dickhead who doesn't care about people looking tremendously scared. If I was him, I would at least go outside and make sure that the man who entered my store isn't being followed or something.

"Wanna smoke to take the edge off?" He had a Middle Eastern accent to his voice. At first I expected him to be from Miami based on his messy man bun and horrid beard, but turns out I was completely wrong.

"What?" I nearly drop the water bottle in my arm and stare at him, baffled.

"Wanna smoke," He speaks slower this time, "To take the edge off?" He gives me a weird look, almost noticing that something horrible happened to me, but then I notice he isn't looking at me, he's looking at my shirt. Concern splatters on his face as it begins to sweat. Blood. A lot of it. I didn't notice I was drowning in a pool of blood scattered all over me, and I wouldn't blame him for being so scared. A man in a bloody shirt enters your store, if your first impression isn't murderer. You're stupid.

"This isn't mine." I say, and I instantly hear myself and feel dumb for my choice of words. Of course it's not mine, that's why the man is so scared.

"It's fine," He reassures me as he forces a smile, a smile that says please don't kill me too. "I didn't kill anyone." I stare at his hand, worried he's going to reach for a phone, or worse, a gun. I've played enough video games in my time to see that there is always a pistol or a rifle hidden underneath the counter, and I have never hoped that games are wrong, like my mother always said, more than I do now.