De Santa (A Grand Theft Auto V story)

Chapter Seventeen

I had to pack everything as fast as possible, only being allowed to take the essentials and nothing that can tie me to who I once was. My plans for returning to college was over, my job promotion was for nothing, for the entire state of San Andreas heard the news. Burger Shot shooting claims the life of Chelsea Townley.

I cried for what seemed like hours when they told me I was dead, but I cried more for the body they were gonna put in my place...Lamar. His surgery was complicated from the get-go. The bullet had rested right up against the heart, but when it was being extracted, the surgeon accidentally punctured the pericardium, a thin wall around his heart, and he died.

Lamar died trying to save me, and he couldn't even have a decent funeral. The FIB paid for it all, but his name will never be on the headstone, he will be forever known as an inmate at the Boilingbroke Penitentiary. I mourned his death heavily, but I also mourned the lack of respect he would get after everything he did.

Davey drove me home and Michael followed close behind, parking his car in the garage, as instructed by Davey, and I was told to pack. I grabbed my clothes and my bug-out box, seeing that everything else tied me to my former identity. Jimmy was heartbroken, even though he tried not to show it. He gave me a hug and said he was gonna miss me and that I'd always be his sister. Tracey gave me a hug, too, but only said that she was sorry we didn't get to get to know each other as much as she'd like. Amanda, as expected, didn't share any sentiment.

Michael convinced Davey to let him take me to my new home, but Davey said he would be following us to make sure we weren't being followed by the Ballas. The car ride out of Los Santos was quiet; I stared out the window and watched as the scenery passed me by. There was so much of LS that I never got to explore, so much I didn't get the chance to do or see. But all of that was over, my life in LS was over.

"Chels..." Michael softly spoke. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"It's not your fault." I mumbled. "I never should've stayed with Bay. When he started making us steal for things we needed, I should've left."

"I'm gonna still look for Davis while you're gone. I'm coming out of retirement until I find him."

"When you find him, will you let me know?"

"Of course. He's your friend—"

"I meant the Ballas." The car fell silent. "They killed my best friend, and I'm gonna make sure I'm there to watch them all die."

"Chels..." Michael was gonna try and talk me out of it, but he knew better. He knew how I was feeling, and I had every right to feel that way. "We're here." Michael pulled up to a property and Michael put the car in park. "Just stay quiet, okay? Let me do the talking." I gave Michael a nod and followed him out of the car and onto the front porch, nervously clutching my duffel bag to my side. Off in the distance, Davey was parked and watching us, ready to spring into action at any given moment.

From inside the home, I could hear the sound of a fan blowing, a tv blaring, and quiet snoring. The smell was horrendous, like garbage, piss, and gasoline. I looked at Michael with hesitation, wondering where and the fuck he brought me. Our eyes met and he tried to force a smile. Still, if Michael trusted this person to keep me safe, then I'd trust them, too. Michael took in a nervous breath as he raised his hand and knocked. A loud snort filled the home, followed by loud crashing sounds, causing me to jump.

"WHAT?" A man's voice shouted in delirious panic "WHO IS IT? RON?"

"A ghost," Michael responded. The door suddenly flung open and I took a nervous step back. "Trevor."

"Michael," Trevor grumbled. "I thought you went back to being dead?"

"I did."

"Then why are you here?"