Scars And Stories

Chapter 13

Ryan woke up about two hours later. He squinted his eyes at the bright light shining on his face. He was buckled in the passenger seat, his forehead resting on the window.

"I know, I'll be here soon," Brendon spoke up from the driver seat. He was talking on the phone, his right hand keeping the device next to his ear as his left hand gripped the steering wheel, "It took more time than I thought." His voice was low, as though he was intimidated.

As Ryan kept his gaze out the window, he heard the response of the person on the other line.

"Then hurry up bringing him here before it takes its effect on him."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at that sentence. He didn't know what this "it" was, and so he began to wrack his mind, desperately trying to remember what happened in the morning. He looked down at his arm and noticed a bruise tainting his skin, which caused him to be even more confused about the situation.

"You better be here soon. It's really strong; we had some problems at the prison."

Brendon sighed and nodded. "Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes," He replied and hung up. He put his phone aside, his gaze still on the road.

"What did you do to me?" Ryan croaked, drawing the black-haired man's attention to him.

Brendon took a quick glance at the man sitting next to him before looking back at the road. "Nothing, dude," He answered, smiling nervously.

"Then what's this?" He showed his bruised forearm.

Brendon chuckled and opened his mouth as he tried to find the lie he was going to tell him. "Um, I don't know. Maybe you-"

"Maybe nothing," Ryan cut him mid sentence, "Pull over. I want to get out."

"Oh no. No," Brendon laughed. "If you think you're gonna leave this easily, you're insane."

"You're from the Syndicate?" He inquired.

The black-haired man nodded his head, a devious smirk spread across his face. "I am."

Ryan leaned back in his seat, "So, what are you going to do to me once we arrive at your headquarters?"

"Nothing," Brendon simply replied, bringing Ryan's confused gaze to him, "The thing is, what will you do for us once we get there?"

The dirty-blonde narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

The driver nodded to Ryan's arm. "Let it just kick in."

Ryan stared at the bruise, still as confused as he was before. "What are you talking about?" He snapped as he returned his attention to the man behind the steering wheel. His breath grew heavier as anger and annoyance boiled up inside of him, and slowly his sight became purple without him even realizing it.

"I'm talking about-" Brendon started but suddenly stopped when he faced Ryan and saw his completely black eyes.

"About what?" Ryan spat back, immediately slamming himself back into the passenger seat as he heard his really deep and mixed voice, "What did-" He started but was cut off by his own cries of pain as his head started pounding. He gripped Brendon's arm tightly, screaming, "Stop the car! NOW!"

Brendon, startled by the singer's move, turned the steering wheel, sending the car into the other lane. He struggled to avoid the other cars until Ryan pushed him again, another wave of pain shooting through him. They crashed into a car in front of them, causing the driver to hit the steering wheel and pass out.

Ryan, partly saved by the strong effect of the Novocaine, didn't get knock out. Blood was dripping down his forehead because of a cut made by the glass of the shattered windshield. He rushed to get out of the car, having some trouble with the seatbelt on his way out. He opened the door and stepped out, only to be shortly missed by a car driving by. He stumbled to the sidewalk, holding his head in his hand, and held a hand out to the car abruptly stopping in front of him.

He tripped over his feet and stumbled upon the bumper of a red car. He weakly waved at the driver as an apology and staggered the rest of the way to the sidewalk.

He made his way down the street to God knows where, keeping his eyes half-closed and rubbing his temple to try to calm the pain.

"Hey, you." A voice called from his left. Ryan tried to ignore them, but the person kept at it, asking, "Are you okay?"

Ryan slowly turned his head to see the driver of the red car. He looked back in front of him and continued walking.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," The man assured Ryan, driving the car slowly beside him. After a few feet, he parked the red mustang on the side of the road and ran to Ryan.

He placed a hand on his shoulder, attracting the dirty blonde's attention. "What?" He snapped, his voice still a little inhumane.

The man looked into Ryan's eyes, the black slowly vanishing. "I'm not gonna hurt you," He repeated, "Actually, I'm here to help you."

Ryan looked at him with confusion in his eyes.

The man turned around, showing the blue bird sewed on the back of his jean jacket, and faced him again. "I'm Alex, and I'm with the Blue Birds."