※〜※〜※ Ashlyn desperately tries to twist her arm away, to no avail. The stranger clasps on tighter. "Let me go or I'll call the cops," she hisses. "Hah. And risk getting yourself caught? I don't think so. Will you just hear me out?" "What other choice do I have?" Ashlyn takes the time to study him before speaking. His body looks tough and weathered. Tousled, ebony hair falls into his navy bluish, almost purple eyes. His masculine jaw is set firmly. This twenty five year old man is probably a better fighter than most of the professional wrestlers. "Okay. First of all, who are you? And what exactly do you think I'm doing?" "I'm Shane. No last name. And the second question? Easy. You're going to murder Cecile Caye, America's sweetheart, just like you murdered the other twenty or so teenagers." Ashlyn feels her stomach drop. "Well, when you put it like that, it makes me sound psychopathic. I'm not a murderer. I didn't kill her fans. They killed themselves. And I'm only giving Cecile -- the actual murderer -- what she deserves." "Ashlyn." His voice is soft, gentle. "Don't you see? If you stoop to her level, you're no better than her. You could've gotten revenge simply by sending her to jail. Instead, you killed people." His words suddenly dawn on her. "Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god." Ashlyn is hyperventilating now. Her mouth feels chalky. Twenty one faces flash by in rapid succession, each contorted in agonizing pain. She took twenty one lives. Twenty one lives that belonged to twenty one kids who had twenty one futures. "Ohgodohgodohgodohgod." She vomits, twice, then curls up in fetal position and begins to cry. "Ashlyn." He puts a hand on her shaking back. "Ashlyn. C'mon, let's get you home." "No!" Ashlyn wails. She weakly stands up on wobbly legs. "It's all your fault. If you hadn't stopped me I could've done it. I had the opportunity. She was alone in her trailer for twenty minutes but now she's out again. Just leave me alone." "What could've you done?" He seems slightly amused. "Murdered her? And I suppose the 22nd death is easier?" Ashlyn is suddenly consumed with a white hot rage. At him, at his sarcastic remarks, at his crystal clear logic. "GO AWAY!" she screeches. But she's the one who ends up going away. To his credit, Shane doesn't follow Ashlyn, who sprints to a cluster of trees. As soon as she reaches the leafy shade, all of Ashlyn's anger dissipates and she falls to the ground once more. "It's all her fault," she whispers, tears cascading down her cheeks. And the tears continue falling, after all the fans leave, after Cecile leaves, and after the cleaning crew leaves. She drifts off to sleep with tears still falling. ※〜※〜※ Whoa there. Seems as though our tragic young heroine has gone a tad bit psycho. Or bipolar, at least.
※〜※〜※ Soft golden rays of sunlight filter through the dense canopy onto the broken girl below. She's popping a small pill into her mouth. To some, the rising sun represents hope; the start of a new day. To others, proof of the beauty of life. To Ashlyn, just a reminder that she is still living her pathetic excuse for a life. Cecile and her entourage are touring in Mountain View today. Her hotel room is on the 37th -- and also the highest -- floor, with a view of the Santa Cruz mountains, the very sight this town is named for. Ashlyn hijacks a motorbike and speeds off towards Mountain View after them. Upon arrival it is clear to her that the hotel is temporarily enclosed while Cecile is getting situated. No one comes in and no one goes out. This is not a problem for Ashlyn. She slinks around to the back, the food delivery entrance, which is comprised of a single wooden door bolted shut with a rusted padlock. The lone guard takes no notice of the twenty two year old woman gliding through the shadows, rippling with the wind. Even the snap of a twig slicing through the peaceful silence passes by with no alarm. He is only jerked back into focus when he feels a sharp blade pressing into his neck. "Don't scream or reach for your various communication devices, or you'll be dead before you can say the E in help." The guard stays silent. Ashlyn kills him anyways, then picks the lock with her bloodstained dagger. Shane is waiting for her on the other side. "Ashlyn, I kno-" "What are you doing here? You're ruining everything. Again." He continues on like he hadn't been interrupted. "I know you're angry at Cecile, but you can't just kill her." "Yes, I can! She deserves a taste of her own medicine. First, her loved ones died. Her treasured fans. The one who made her day that much better. And now she will die. You can't stop me." "Yes I can. You're being irrational, Ashlyn." "Irrational? How can you call me irrational? You don't even know me!" Ashlyn's voice is becoming louder and louder, teetering on the verge of screaming. "You don't know what it's like to have parents that only care about their image. Yeah. That's right. I have -- I had -- an identical twin, and they thought lookalikes were 'odd'. They kept the secret from everyone. Not even Cecile knows there are -- there was -- two Ashlyn Cayes. You don't know what it's like to be robbed of your chance at happiness. You don't know what it's like to spend half of your childhood in fame and the other half hidden in a closet, taking pills to stop yourself from going insane. You don't know what it's like to have a sister that killed your family and burned down your house to get rid of the evidence." Shane's voice is startlingly calm when he replies. "Yes I do." "NO. YOU. DON'T." "YES. I. DO." "Then prove it." "Fine," he sighs. "I'm your brother." ※〜※〜※ Please don't give up on the story. The ending's only, like, two updates away.
*this town is named after Just realized. Ending a sentence with a preposition is grammatically incorrect.