Hello My Name Is Nothing

There is no permanent destination for me. I am a murder-without-hesitation hotwire expert. This is the story of how I finally may have found a home.

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14. Ch. 10

NOTHING’S POV

The news reporter looked up at the screen, a grim look on her face. She shuffled her papers around. If people watching looked close enough or owned expensive HD televisions, they might see a tear roll down her cheek. She composed herself before beginning.

                “Today we are heart-broken to report the death of ten individuals. They were found in an old warehouse after being reported missing three days ago. All the individuals were tortured in ways that were demented, cruel, and harrowing. Some victims were killed with a gunshot to the head, other had been killed in ways too graphic in description to say on air for fear children are watching. You may ask who would do such a thing to such innocent individuals. Well the young girl made it very clear that it was she who did it. She wrote it in blood. Before we reveal, why don’t we hear what some family members had to say about the murderer, who seemed to be a somewhat normal girl in the town, but had been giving off warning signs that something was wrong.”

The screen changes to a man who is overweight and wearing an old t-shirt that advertises beer. He looks very sad. It’s Jenna’s father.

“She was just another girl in the neighborhood, but she did commit some crimes in her younger years. Other than that, Jenna never really mentioned her.” The screen changes to a woman. It is Matthew’s mom.

“In the past year, she seemed to get quiet. She started to skip school and never left her home. I knew her mom. She and I were talking a couple days before she, Matt, and the other kids went missing. She said that her daughter barely left her room, only for meals. I think she may have gone crazy.”

More people shared their thoughts on the murderer. Then the news reporter came back. Her makeup looked touched up, as if she had messed it up when lightly crying.

“The murderer is on trial. It has been named one of the most grim and horrid crimes of the century. The newsroom’s hearts go out to the families of these poor victims. And now we tell you the name of the criminal. The families of the victims shivered at her name. Her name is-“

I switched off the TV and chuckled lightly under my breath. The doctors in the mental ward looked at me.

“See what pain you’ve caused them? What do have to say for yourself?” he questioned me.

“I was only repaying the pain those dead people caused me.” I replied casually to him.

“Miss, you aren’t mentally stable.” He continued.

“Oh, but I was stable enough to do that. You all think I’m crazy!” I started yelling. The doctor whispered something to the guards. “STAND IN MY SHOES! I ONLY KILLED TEN! I COULD’VE KILLED SO MANY MORE PEOPLE WHO FUCKED MY LIFE UP! THEY DESERVE TO DYE!” The guards strapped me to the bed. “I’m not crazy! You hear me? I’M NOT CRAZY!!!!” I yelled all the way to the solitary room.

I shot up from bed. The memories of the killing were still so fresh in my mind; it was hard to realize I was just dreaming. I sobbed into my pillow. Cara was with Francis, probably having makeup sex, so no one could hear me crying my heart out. After crying my eyes out I tried to get back to sleep. After rolling over twenty times I gave up and got out of bed. I decided to see if there was a training room. I went around the rooms on the third floor and they seemed to be just bedrooms. I sighed and went downstairs. I knew the shooting room was the basement. I looked around the second floor. I was about to give up when I found a room at the end of the hall marked weight and training. I pulled it open to reveal…darkness. I searched for a light switch and flipped it on. The light revealed a mat in the middle and punching bags hanging in random places. Other things lined the room, including knife dummies that were covered in holes.

I closed the door and went to the first punching bag and punched it as hard as I could. Usually punching stuff helps me clear my mind and get anger off my chest. I pounded my fists into it quickly before swiftly kicking my leg up and kicking the punching bag. As soon as my leg hit the punching bag I brought fist around to the side. This continued more and more until about thirty minutes went by and I decided that I had enough of the bag. I turned to find a dummy and saw Denver, Jackson, and Paul leaning against the wall, all sporting smirks on their faces.

“What?” I said impatiently.

“Well, we just aren’t used to seeing a girl totally beat up a punching bag and look sexy while doing it.” Paul said.

“What do you mean I’m in my pajamas.” I said defensively.

“Did you forget that your pajamas are a baggy t shirt and underwear? And that whenever you kick your leg up we get a perfect view of your ass?” Denver added.

“Yeah, well I kind of had an emotional breakdown about my past and punching things helps me clear my mind and forget about it.” I explained.

“Yeah, you never did tell us what exactly happened in your past.” Jackson said.

“Oh yeah about that…” I trailed off before trying to run for the door. No such luck, because Paul and Denver grabbed my arms and brought me to the middle of the mat.

“Listen Nothing, we all know each other’s pasts. You need to tell us what you are running from. You can trust us.” Denver said.

“I killed ten people…badly. People called me…demented. And…I can’t tell you anymore. No one ever looks at me normally when they know who I am.” I said. I hadn’t admitted my past in a long time.

“Listen, our pasts are hard to talk about too. When I was six I realized how cruel the world can be. My dad would accuse my mom of cheating and beat her up every three or four days. I ran away when I was fourteen.” Denver explained.

“Why did you leave your mom with your dad?” I said, surprised.

“I didn’t.” Denver said calmly. “I killed my father while my mom was at a night job as a bartender. Shot him with one of his guns while he was searching the fridge for food. I knew that my mom would be safe from him and might be able to find someone who would love her truly. I wanted to stay, but I knew that I couldn’t. I haven’t seen my mom since she left for the night job that night.”

“Do you wish you could find her again?” I asked.

                “Every day, I wish I could see her again. Everyone knew it was me who murdered my father, but my mom refused to believe it was me. If she saw me again, she would ask me if it was me, and I wouldn’t be able to lie to her face. My mom never tried to fight back, because she didn’t believe in hurting people. I just wish I could see her face, but I can’t. All I know from sources that she lives in Denver still and there is a warrant for my arrest even though no one cares anymore with all the death going on in the world all the time.” Denver paused. I looked at him and smiled.

“I think you should see your mom again. She probably misses you so much.” I said. Denver smiled weakly.

“What about you Paul?” I asked, curiously.

“I watched my parents get murdered by the leader of the Vipers when I was seven. I was hiding in the cupboard. They originally lived in New York, and my dad needed money so that he could pay for the hospital bill for my birth. He couldn’t pay for it a month later, so he ran away with my mom without telling anyone, to St. Paul Minnesota, where they raised me in an apartment in the more public part of town. It was my seventh birthday and we were about to leave to go out to dinner. Then there was a knock on the door. My dad looked in the peephole and then told me to hide in the cupboard. I scrambled inside and the leader came in and shot my father then my mother. She was pregnant with what would’ve been my younger sister. My birthday present was the death of the people I cared for the most.” I wiped the tear that had managed to slip down my face. Denver leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I almost cried the first time he told me the whole story too.” I ignored him.

“Oh my god Paul I’m-“I began but Paul interrupted me.

“That isn’t the end. I was retrieved by police and then put in foster care. The families I was given to hated me. Most people didn’t want a kid screaming in the middle of the night every night because he had nightmares about his parents’ death. I was thrown around and bullied. I was with a good family once, but they got covered in taxes and bills and even the foster care money wasn’t enough. They had nothing left to do but put me back in foster care. I was fifteen when I ran away from home. I made a living as an underground fighter, building up a lot of strength. When I was eighteen I became a body guard at concerts for teeny bopper type music stars. Then I was discovered by Francis, Jackson, and Denver.”

“And I thought my story was bad.” I mumbled.

“I was a little different.” Jackson began. “I am not going to lie. I was born into a very rich family. My parents were both doctors an all they wanted was for me to go to medical school. They gave me anatomy books for my sixth birthday present. The first time I told them I didn’t want to be a doctor, they told me that in the world we live in, success is everything. They accused me of not trying hard enough when I got A’s and B’s. They told me that many people deserved it better than me. I was so constricted by my parents that it only made me want to rebel. I went out drinking. When I was sixteen I ran away from Jacksonville to New York and joined a drug dealing gang in town. He rolled up his sleeves and showed me a tattoo on his wrist. I was a black cross with the words “The Black Cross” under it. “The gang ended two years after I joined. They taught me how to kill and people from far away, and I quickly became their lead sniper. Then when the gang ended I killed the leader because he told me to, only to find out he was trying to get me in jail. I was shoved into jail and then Denver and Francis found me and asked me if I wanted to join their gang. I refused at first, but then they agreed to bail me out if I did. I agreed and joined. We found Paul and then our gang was formed.”

“So,” I asked, “why do you call yourselves the Runaways?”

“We all have run away from people who destroyed us, tricked us, and kicked us down. We escape from the people who made us into monsters. They cracked us, and now we are here, rising up.” Denver explained. I looked at them and hugged each of them. They looked at me curiously.

“Sorry, I just haven’t met anyone who gets why I ran away so much. Before I met you guys, I thought I would always be alone. I finally may have found people I can call family. Too bad Francis and Cara are busy getting it on to join in the hug.” This earned laughs out of all of us.

“C’mon guys let’s go to bed.” Jackson suggested. We all nodded.

Paul and Jackson went down the left hall and Denver and I went down the right hall.

“So Denver, what are we doing tomorrow because I still don’t exactly get how this whole gang thing works. Also I need to leave and get hair dye because, honestly, the blue hair isn’t really working for me. So are we just training or going to that shooting range or-“

I kept rambling on. Unfortunately I have this thing where I talk a lot when I’m really tired. As I talked Denver suddenly pressed me against the wall and pressed his forehead on mine. I tried to get out from under him but he had my arms pressed to my sides.

“Denver what are you-“I questioned angrily but was interrupted when he smashed his lips against mine. Then he released me and grinned.

“What the fuck?” I asked.

“Just trying to get you to shut up.” He mocked form yesterday.

I rolled my eyes and went to my room. I had just gotten under the covers when the door opened and Cara walked in. Her hair was a mess and her lips were swollen and her eyes were ablaze. She also smelled like sex. A lot.

“Well,” she said, breaking the silence, “that was,” she sighed, exasperated, “amazing.”

“Just take a shower. You reek of sex right now.” I said. She threw a pillow at me.

“At least I got to have sex.” She said braggingly. “Five rounds!” my jaw dropped.

“Five rounds?! Cara, how are you walking?” I asked, surprised. She laughed.

“Well, I probably won’t be able to walk in the morning, but while I can, I think I’ll take a shower.” Cara then disappeared into the bathroom. I put my head back on my pillow and fell asleep. 

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Hello! First off, thx a bunch for 245 view oh my god!!!!

Anyway, below is The Runaways tattoo. There is no cherry though.

Update later in the week hopefully :)

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