How To Save Rock And Roll

Chapter 19 - It's going to come back

A/N: Sorry, the names of the chapters are really bad. I never know what sentence to use for them.

As soon as you heard the gunshots, you started running toward where Patrick had came from, disregarding the fact you were still in your pajamas and had no shoes on. When you arrived at the start of the street, you slowed down and looked around for Patrick. He was walking slowly toward your direction, his head hung low, blood all over his hands, some on his forearm. You ran to him and took him in your arms.
"Thank God, you're okay." You said as you pulled out of the embrace and put your hands on the sides of his face to look at him in his eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together in a hurt expression. His bottom lip began to quiver as tears formed in his eyes.
"Tyler," He croaked, just above a whisper.
"W-What about him?" You stuttered just before looking over his shoulder. Right before you were able to see what was behind him, he put his hand on your shoulder and made you look at him again.
"No, don't look back there," He warned you, hurt lacing his voice, "I don't want you seeing that."
"But what happened?" You inquired, still confused about the situation.
"They killed him," He blurted out while the tears he tried to hide started to flow down his cheeks.
Your jaw dropped. You couldn't believe it. Your mouth stayed open as you tried to say something, but no words were coming out of your mouth.
"Let's go back home, okay?" He suggested as he placed his hand on your lower back and started gently pushing you away from the scene that you were still looking at, where three bodies were lying lifelessly on the ground.

*****

"What happened back there?" You asked Patrick as soon as you entered the apartment.
"Tyler was playing piano, and..." He took a breath before continuing, "...and they shot him."
"What? Why didn't they just arrest him?"
"Because he didn't stop playing. Either way, he was done for. If he stopped playing, they were going to arrest him and erase his memory so he'd be with them. He didn't want that," Patrick explained to you.
"But why was he playing?" You questioned as you looked at the ground, trying to put everything together.
"I have no idea."
"What about the guards? They were dead too." You said as you looked up at him.
"I-I don't know what happened. It's like, I looked at that guard and blinked and when I opened my eyes, they were lying on the ground, dead." His gaze shifted down to the ground, as if he was remembering the scene that happened in front of him just a few minutes ago. He glanced up, that hurtful expression still on his face.
You took Patrick in your arms. "We can't inform the police, right?"
He shook his head. "No, they're with the Syndicate too. If we tell them, they're going to investigate and then arrest us. We just have to...to let the next Syndicate's patrol find the bodies."
Your grip on Patrick tightened as you let a few tears fall. You pulled out of the embrace and wiped the tears away. "Okay." You sighed. You gazed down at Patrick's hand and said, "You should clean your hand."
Patrick nodded his head in agreement and walked into the bathroom.

*****

The singer entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He stood in front of the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror hanging above it. The light was shining on his wet cheeks and his eyes were red from crying.
"When are you going to remember stuff, Patrick?" Pete's voice suddenly echoed in his head.
Patrick looked down, a thoughtful look on his face. He shook his head with a sigh before glancing back down at the sink and turning it on, water flowing from the tap. He put his hands under the water and cleaned them. Once his hands were cleaned from the blood, he rubbed his face with them and looked at himself once again. He blinked a few times, swearing that his eyes were yellow at one point. He shook that idea out of his head and grabbed a towel that was sitting on the counter to dry his face.
"Silence the noise."
He turned his head toward the door, lowering the towel, and called out, "What did you say?"
"I didn't say a thing," You called back.
He returned his attention to the mirror, a confused look on his face.
"It's going to come back."
He sighed angrily and muttered, "No, it's not."