Love Ridden

Chapter 8

  "I want you all to know," Jerome exclaimed, loudly, "That this was a very difficult decision for us." He walked down the bus aisle, waving his gun around. The big guy who touched you walked behind him, his eyes darting to you.

  "It was between you and a senior citizen party, we decided to skew a little younger. Youth won the day," The redhead grinned, "Sorry." He was in the middle of the school bus when he shouted, "Give me an 'O'."

  The bus was silent and he fired a shot in the air. "I said," He muttered, in a tone you knew so well, "Give me an 'O'."

  "O!" Everyone called out and your eyes started to water.

  "Give me an 'N'!"

  "N!"

  "Give me another 'O'."

  "O!"

  Jerome grinned, "What does that spell?"

  "Oh no!" The bus cried out and Jerome was handed a hose.

  He sprayed the bus with the hose, the smell of gasoline in the air. You cried along with your friends and just sat there, feeling like this was all your fault. You fucked a murderer, which was obviously bad karma, and brought this on yourself. Only, your friends would have to die with you. You were going to die at the hands of your lover. Your insane, murderous paramour.

  It was poetic really.

  Jerome walked through the aisle with host at his waist, spraying girls with the hose. If he wasn't spraying gasoline on you all to light all of you on fire, it would be eroitc. He got to the end of the bus and sprayed your friends with a grin before turning towards you and pausing as he got a glimpse of your face.

  Jerome tilted his head to the right with a smile, "Oh babydoll," He purred, "You're a cheerleader? This must be fate!" He kneeled in front of you. "Miss me?"

  You leaned away from him and whimpered, "Please d-"

  "Please?" Jerome mocked, "Please what princess? Let you go?" He questioned, "Spare your friends? No can do, doll. It's all apart of my evil plan, blah, blah, blah." He teased, laughing at your cries before standing up. "Greenwood!" He called out and the big guy came to the back of the bus.

  "Yes?" He asked with a sickening grin in your direction. Through your tears you scowled at him.

  "Uncuff this one," Jerome motioned to you, "I want a souvenir."

   You leaned away from the man, Greenwood, and spat, "Don't fucking touch me, pig."

  He just grinned wider and released you from your handcuffs. Trying to get a hold on you, he grabbed your arm but you spit in his face. "Don't touch me!" You screamed at him.

  Jerome glared at you, "Get Aaron." He said to Greenwood and the big man left the bus. A bigger man came on the bus and scooped you up, carrying you away from your friends and off the bus. They yelled your name and cried for you, but the man carrying you locked you in the red truck they came in.

  You beat on the windows, trying to break them and screamed at Jerome to stop, but he just laughed at you. You watched as he bent down to light the bus with tears streaming down your cheeks and the weight of guilt on your shoulders.

  This was worse than your paramour killing you and your friends, you would have to live knowing that you caused their deaths. You would rather die. You closed your eyes as and put your hands over your ears, not wanting to see your friends die.

  After a few minutes, you opened your eyes, but the bus was still intact. Then your father, Officer Gordon and a few other officers had drove up and were being shot at by Jerome and his goons. Jerome ran out of bullets and ran to the truck, winking at you through the window. You glowered at him with watery eyes and he chuckled at your anger. He grabbed the hose and sprayed more gasoline around the bus, and cackled while Greenwood and the big guy got in the truck with you.