The Ghost of Him

5. Rocky Start

*Gerard's POV*

I was surprised at how easy she was to get back to the RV. She hardly struggled, except when we were first leaving, and I didn't know if it was because she was scared or because she actually wanted to go. I'm sure it was because she was scared, the other part was just sort of wishful thinking.

My arm still throbbed from the pain, and I silently cursed myself for not grabbing any pain killers before we left. I had to clench my jaw as we walked in order to continue walking and not pass out.

I glanced at her pockets several times, trying to see if I could make out a phone or anything that could be used to track our location, but I never inspected for too long because I realized that if she turned around and looked at me it would seem like I was staring at her ass. I finally figured that it would be easier to just ask her when we got to the RV.

When the little trailer finally came into view, she stopped and I, not paying attention, walked straight into her. She gasped and stumbled forward a bit and then turned around to look at me, which I kind of found funny. There was an uneasy look in her eyes as we stared at each other, and it sort of upset me; for some reason, I didn't really want her to be scared of me. Normally, it made me sort of happy to realize that people were scared of me. It meant that I  didn't have to be scared of them. Coming from someone who was bullied their entire life, turning into the person whom everyone is scared of is almost relieving. But then there's that good side of me that feels empathy, because I know what it's like to be scared of someone, and it fucking sucks. But, like I said, I was in too deep now, and couldn't turn myself in because I would be given the death sentence. And I couldn't die at someone else's hands.

But with her - I really needed to learn her name - it was different. When she showed fear towards me, it felt weird. I wasn't relishing in it like usual, but it wasn't like I felt sorry for her either. It was more like... Self-hatred I guess. I didn't really want her to be scared of me.

"What?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, not really sure what to say. "Is... Is this it?"

I just pushed her forward a bit more towards the RV. "Sorry I don't have better living accommodations," I snapped, trying to keep up my menacing act.

But it was sort of true, I mean, what did she expect me to live in?? It was either this or nothing, and I'm sure she'd rather be in this than just out in the woods with nothing. I inwardly rolled my eyes as she wandered around the camper and then carefully stepped inside as if she was expecting someone else to be in there. She was being surprisingly calm, considering the circumstances for her.

I followed her inside and closed the door carefully, watching her look around like a puppy when you first bring them home. Maybe she was just a little less excited than a puppy might've been. She carefully ran her hands over a few things and then sighed.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Problem?"

She bit her lip and made eye contact with me. "How long do I have to stay here?"

Something about what she said (or maybe it was just the way that she said it?) struck a nerve in me and I made my way over to her, stopping a couple inches away from her face. "Be thankful that I haven't gotten the urge to kill you yet," I snapped. "For me, this is generous. If I do decide to ever let you go, you know where I am now and I don't really have time or a want to move locations. So just be grateful that I'm letting you stay here instead of killing you."

She stared at me for a moment, her electric blue eyes boring into mine with a mixture of fear and skepticism. Almost like she was either questioning my threat of killing her or seeing straight through my act. I didn't really want to kill her. But I also didn't want to have to force her to be here. I wanted her to understand and not be scared. Of course, I couldn't exactly expect that from her. I was just so ready for human interaction and to feel what it was like to have a "friend" again after three years of strictly being on my own. And I couldn't help the fact that I had developed a slight crush on this girl and would probably end up killing myself if it got to having to kill her. Being a murderer was difficult.