I slammed my head down onto the cold, metal table in exhaustion and frustration. The room I was being held in was windowless and chilling, making me anxious, too. The police officers had dropped me off in this room, and it’s been almost an hour since some one has checked on me. I clenched my fist in anger—were they ever going to give me a chance to explain? What was going on?

As my time alone in this holding room continued to drag on and on, my anger slowly dissolved, being replaced by nervousness. The bare walls stared at me threateningly, and the room started to suffocate me. My chest tightened and my breaths shortened as the rustic walls around me continued to taunt me.

‘Welcome to Hell,’ he spat, sending daggers through my chest with only his eyes. I shivered at his stare, trying to break free from the hold his yellow eyes had on mine, but failing. I was afraid to look away—afraid that if I did so, I wouldn’t expect an attack. I needed to be on my guard with this man, I couldn’t turn my back on him.

And as I read his eyes, I noticed a few things: they revealed that he had a hate vile filled to the brim for me, they revealed that he had twisted plans up his sleeve, and they revealed that he lacked the quality of mercy. A combination of these three things and more made my stomach flip, and I all of a sudden wanted to break away from his eye contact. The yellow, beady eyes stared into my soul, burning my insides. My insides writhed as if the word ‘fear’ was being scraped with a rusted scalpel into my bones.

My breathing hitched, and I was unable to say any words. ‘Normally when people welcome you somewhere, it is polite to respond,’ he snarled, amusement clearly written on his face. He rushed over to me, kicking me roughly in my head. I couldn’t even scream in pain at the attack; I just gasped breathlessly. Everything moved so slowly and my vision already had black spots in it. Tears immediately sprung in my eyes as he reached over and gripped my t-shirt, yanking me up and shaking me violently. I couldn’t even respond to his words or actions as blood already filled my mouth, and my mind already began to fog up.

‘N-no,’ I somehow managed to object, but I probably would have been better off if I had not spoken at all.

‘Don’t be such a pansy, Victor,’ Drew Sanders scoffed, aggressively slamming me back onto the cold, dirty floor. I groaned in pure agony.

He kicked me in the side, and I heard a horrible crunching sound and a blood-curdling scream—a scream that seemed so foreign and distant, despite it being my own.

‘I have to go, now,’ Drew Sanders growled. ‘But I’ll be back soon,’ he added.

I was momentarily relieved when he stopped beating me, telling me that he had to go, but I tensed up when he said he would be back soon. What did he want from me here?

‘Vic, maybe try to man up a little while I’m gone,’ he scoffed again, and another small piece of my heart broke off. I knew I was weak—there was a reason why I was the one in this Godforsaken room as opposed to anyone else. I felt like I was going to be sick…

‘Get used to this, Victor. Memorize these walls, because they will be your only friend for a while,’ he said lastly before leaving, slamming and locking the door behind him. The walls shuddered at the force of the slamming door.

I shivered, staring at the walls. They would never be my friend. They were my enemy. They were closing in on me; they were haunting me. As I took a painful hasty breath, I knew, in that moment, that I was never going to be the same again.

Sweat poured from my forehead. I took a shaky breath and looked up again, flinching as my eyes met the ever so familiar walls.

“Hello?” a voice asked, and it wasn’t until I looked around a little more until I realized that I wasn’t alone. “I asked you a question, Fuentes,” he said.

I shivered; the hostility in the man’s voice chilled my blood.

“We are going to be here a long time until you decide to talk,” the officer informed me.

I looked up at him with glassy eyes, still trying to recover from my own thoughts.

“I-I’m sorry,” I shook my head, trying to control my shaking words but to no avail. “What did you ask?”

The man shook his head. His eyes were dark, his skin was pale, and his cheekbones stood out prominently. I stared at his physical appearance for a long time until he started to look like Drew Sanders himself.

“Excuse me?” he spoke, and the image of my worst nightmare dissolved away, leaving the officer sitting there—I realized now that he was actually a heavy, fleshy man with round cheeks and soft brown eyes.

“What?” I asked, realizing that I must have missed the question again.

“Jesus,” the officer hissed, a hint of anger spreading on his features. This anger made me cringe away, and my body shivered as the angry face of Drew Sanders tattooed itself into my brain.

“I’ll ask you one more time. It’s really not that difficult, Victor,” the officer said in a bored tone. It’s really not that difficult, Victor. All you have to do is fight back… Drew Sanders’ words hugged my brain tightly until I couldn’t think properly. I shivered again. “I’m not going to play games with you,” the officer said. These words brought me partly back to reality—he wasn’t going to play games with me, which relieved me to no end. Drew Sanders liked to play games. “So I’m asking you up front. Did you or did you not kill Carlos Martinez?” the officer asked, annoyance laced in his tone.

I shook my head. “I didn’t,” I said. “I did not,” I emphasized.

“Why do you look so nervous, then?” the officer challenged.

‘Why do you look so nervous, Victor? Another thing you could learn here is how predators feed off of their prey’s fear…’

‘P-predator?’ I stammered, unsure as to what he meant, but also very sure.

‘Yes. I’m the predator,’ he said, hitting me in the head with that cursed crow bar again. My head slammed onto the cold ground. ‘And you…’ he breathed into my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. His words, although literally close to me, sounded like they were a thousand miles away. ‘…are the prey.’

“I’m n-not nervous,” I said, cursing at myself for stuttering again.

‘Say it!’ he yelled.

‘I’m n-not weak.’

‘Say it! Say it like you really mean it, Victor! Nobody will believe you if you stutter like that!’ he yelled again, spitting the words into my face. I was still on the ground, my body twitching in pain, while he hovered over me. An unfair battle, to say the least.

‘I’m not w-weak,’ I said, trying to keep my voice strong, but I couldn’t. It hurt too much.

‘You are weak, Victor. You are nervous, and you are weak. We are going to keep doing this until you become otherwise,’ he growled, raising his arm and sending my mind into oblivion once again.

“I’m not nervous,” I repeated, my voice stronger than before. “I did not kill Carlos,” I said.

“Where were you when he was killed?”

I racked my brain, trying to remember—my nerves were shaken, making it hard to think. “I, uh,” I began. The officer shot me a skeptical look. “My house,” I managed to say, eyeing the walls again. They stared at me knowingly, taunting me, hurting me.

‘I’m not weak!’ I yelled, although the tears spreading down my face suggested other wise. Drew Sanders gripped my neck—his strength unimaginable to anyone else but very real to the victim he used it against—and he slammed me into the wall. My head cracked onto the cement of the wall, and I could already feel the warm sensation of blood trickling down the back of my neck.

‘Strong people do not cry,’ he reminded me.

‘Strong people do not use their own force against weaker people, you coward,’ I spat, unable to control my words. I gritted my teeth as I spoke and I could feel my chokes worsening as he gave my neck another squeeze.

Drew Sanders released his grip from my neck, and I gasped, sinking down to the ground.

‘Very good, Victor. Stand up for yourself, and see what happens.’

“My brother and my friend can attest to that,” I said.

“What are their names?”

“Mike Fuentes and Jaime Preciado,” I said. “My brother and I got in a slight argument after my girl—er, my friend,” I stammered for a moment, wondering exactly what Charlie and I were, “After Charlie left the house. And then Jaime came in, telling us that the verdict for the trial was on the news. We watched it, and we cried when he was ruled innocent. And then all of a sudden he was dead. We saw it on the television; I wasn’t anywhere near the courthouse when it happened,” I explained.

“I see. What did you do after this happened?”

I sighed. “I went to the cemetery to visit Spencer,” I said lowly.

“Spencer Martin?” the guy asked, and irritation spread through me. Of course I was talking about Spencer Martin—who else? He knew that, too.

“Yes,” I hissed. “And Charlie found me there; she can attest to that, too,” I said hopefully.

“I see,” the officer said again. “I have a few other questions for you,” he said. I waited. “Do you think that Carlos was guilty?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “He didn’t kill Spence directly, but he’s the one who abducted her and put her in the fatal situation,” I said with utter determination in my words. Maybe my words were incriminating, but I knew they had nothing truly on me except motive; I did not kill Carlos, and I wasn’t about to go to jail for the murder of someone who deserved death, anyway.

“And how do you know this?”

‘No, no, no,’ a voice growled loudly. Spence turned her head to see the source of the disapproving voice, while I was preoccupied with the soft skin of her jaw and neck.

Then she gasped, which broke me from my spell. I turned my head just in time to see him—Carlos—aggressively coming towards us. Before I had enough time to protect her, a cloth was pressed into her face, her muffled screams still haunting me to this day. I couldn’t do anything to help her because a sharp pain split the back of my head—someone had hit me from behind—and I fell to the ground, the only thing I could see being Spence’s limp body and a few pairs of feet shuffling around before I blacked out completely.

‘No!’ a voice shrieked. It was Spencer’s voice; I knew it. I forced my eyes open making eye contact with her. A large, unfamiliar man was ripping her away while she punched and kicked in protest, her eyes locked with mine in the process. I jumped up to go after her, but then I found that I couldn’t, and a sharp pain entered my neck. I was lying flat on my stomach, my head turned so I was looking at her, the right side of my face pressed into the ground. Everything was fuzzy, and I looked hopelessly at Spencer.

‘No! Don’t hurt him!’ I heard her cry. My body was paralyzed—I literally couldn’t find my legs to stand or my arms to crawl. Everything was numb.

‘Spence,’ I croaked, watching her being dragged away. ‘I love you,’ I said in a scratchy voice. I loved her. I knew it was only a short period of time, but ever since that day I saved her from drowning in the bathtub, I knew that I loved her. I knew that I wanted to be with her. I knew I should be the one to love her and take care of her, not Jaime—as selfish as that made me. But everything was okay; Jaime had given us his blessing, and I loved her. She was meant to be with me after all, and Jaime was okay again. Everything was okay again.

‘I love you,’ she mouthed, but I couldn’t hear her anymore as she was so far away. Little did I know, that would be the second to last time I would ever see her alive.

Spencer’s image disappeared, being replaced with an angry and twisted face. Carlos breathed on my face. ‘She’s mine now,’ he hissed, and then the numbness officially took over my veins, making me black out once again.

“Because I was there,” I said, my face twisting in pain at the memory. “They wouldn’t let me testify, though, because apparently I was unreliable. They had knocked me out, given me drugs, and took her from me when I was helpless. But I know what I saw. I won’t ever forget it,” I said with more determination than ever. Not that it mattered—he was dead, anyway. And he died with the world thinking he was innocent, which almost killed me.

“You seem very passionate about this,” the officer speculated.

“Because I am! Jesus Christ! I didn’t kill the monster, but maybe I wish that I did!” I yelled. “He took my life away from me! The way he smirked at me when I woke up at the Starbucks that he fucking owned… of course I am passionate about this!” I said, shaking my head.

“I see,” the officer said for the third time. I took a deep, calming breath, receding into my chair.

‘Good job, Victor,’ he hissed. ‘I like to hear that kind of confidence,’ he smirked.

Tears were threatening to spill from my eyes, but I held them back. Drew Sanders had serious repercussions for crying.

‘Let me hear it again,’ he said, smiling broadly, his features filled disgustingly with pride. I hated him, I hated it, I hated this!

‘Leave me alone! I can’t take this anymore! What do you want from me?’ I screamed with every ounce of passion I had in my body. These weren’t the words that he wanted me to repeat, but they carried the same amount of confidence and strength.

Drew Sanders smiled, taking out a phone. ‘Let’s call your family now, shall we? You deserve it.’

I shook violently for a moment. “Am I still under arrest?” I asked, hiding my anger with control.

“We are going to follow up on your story, but I have a feeling you’re telling the truth,” the officer said. I was taken aback by his words. “I know you may think otherwise, but we are on your side, Victor,” he said kindly. He stood up to leave me, but then whispered something in my ear. “I think if you actually did do it, you would have let the world know,” he said. I nodded in agreement. If I actually did kill Carlos, I would not have denied it. “And I think he was guilty, too, by the way. I would have killed the bastard myself if it were me,” he said very quietly. He patted my shoulder in comfort, and then he walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my shocked thoughts and four blank walls.

~~

MIKE’S POV

“What… the… fuck…” I said slowly, staring at the same spot in the basement—the spot where the officers dragged my brother away. My heart hurt; he looked so hopeless, so helpless, so scared… and we all knew that he didn’t do it! He was with us when it happened!

I punched the wall in anger. Vic didn't need this! He already had a lot swimming around in that little head of his; he didn’t need more heartache, drama, and pain added to everything else. There was only so much he could handle; I knew this all too well.

“He didn’t do it, Mike, it’s going to be okay,” Jaime said, patting my arm reassuringly.

“I know that! But it’s not going to be okay, Himes,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. “Didn’t you see his face?” I asked, my voice cracking. I hated seeing Vic’s features so twisted with pain and confusion—it broke my heart. He deserved so much better than this. He’s been nothing but good, and the world just seems to always turn against him.

Jaime nodded, stepping away. “This just digs up so much for him,” I mumbled. I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now. Every memory of Spencer probably rekindled in his mind, everything bad and good swarming into his brain, driving him crazy.

“Well, let’s go follow him,” Charlie spoke up, her eyes worried and pained. I grabbed her hand and walked towards the stairs with her, agreeing to follow him to the police station. Besides, we knew that he was innocent, so he should be let out soon.

But, the justice system has failed us once before…

“Come on guys,” I called for the guys to come with us. Jaime willingly came along, but I turned to see Tony still standing in one spot.

“It’s okay, Tony, come on,” I pressed, but he continued to not move. An odd look was twisted on his features. “What’s the matter with you?” I asked. All of a sudden, Tony’s head shot up, his eyes bloodshot and watering with tears.

“Tony…” we all stared at him warily.

When Tony didn’t answer, my body shook with recognition and horror. “Tony… what did you do?”

Notes

Hello guys!

So, Vic's having flashbacks to his time with Drew Sanders again... uh oh :( Do you think he'll ever recover?
And what is up with Tony? A lot of you think he's the one who did it...
What do you think all of this means for their future with their lives, the band, and their relationships?
And, also... do you guys want me to put in more involving Jaime? I've seemed to shifted the focus of this story to Vic and Charlie, and a little bit of Mike, too. But I think there will be plenty of Tony later on, but I don;t know if I should add in more Jaime POV's. He seems pretty happy with Jess and everything, right? Maybe i'll add in his POV for a cute fluffy chapter or something I don't know haha i'm rambling now

just tell me what you want to see!

Thanks for the comments, guys! I'm being slow getting back to you guys but I really appreciate it <3

Don't forget to comment/vote/subscribe if you haven't already :)

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OH! My buddy Scarlet has a new story (Fuentits) it's called Little Lady be sure to check it out! :)