Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > I Don't Write Romance (I Write Lust With Murder Across It)
Thriller/Murder/Mystery/Romance: Completely different from anything I've probably ever written. Brendon gets into a car crash, and gets involved with a woman who offered to be his witness in court....
Prologue: Sit Tight Baby, This is The Prologue You've Been Waiting For
A very nicely polished car swooped around the corner suddenly, and crashed head-first into Brendon's car. Brendon, scared and unprepared by the impact and force of the opposing vehicle, swore loudly as the airbag puffed up into his face. After a few passing moments, he looked up in front of him as well as side to side. Smoke billowed out from his car, and it was blocking his vision quite terribly. "Fuckit." He murmured angrily, and got up from his seat. He winced a bit when he realized his arm was jammed in between his seat and the stick of his Ferrari.
Outside, he could hear the bumbling of the people, slamming car doors, and them repeating the same phrase over and over again: "Is he alright? Is he alright?..." After groaning for the last time out of pain, Brendon wrestled his arm out of the wedge, and fell out of his car. His car...was totaled. There was so much damage to the front, nothing could be done to repair it-ever. As he sighed, and rubbed his temples with much agony, he looked on at the car that had hit...no, wait.
"Fuck!" Brendon cursed even louder. A passing girl and her mother stared at Brendon in wonderment, before the little girl turnedo her mother to say: "Mommy, what is fuck?" The mother's eyes widened to the extent where they just bugged out of her skull. As the mother chastised her kid even further, Brendon gazed at his car. There was not a trace of the car that had hit him. A hit and run case, of course. The person who hit him quite hard had just took off quickly, and now, only a few witnesses stood by. Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"What?!" Brendon asked in the most irritable voice he had ever used towards anyone before. "Sorry about your car," The young woman said slowly, almost tentatively, almost as if she was rethinking even tapping him on the shoulder. Brendon looked at her closer. She didn't look like she was confessing about hitting him or anything, but...
"Look, I've got to get to work, but I've always been told by my old driving instructor that if I should witness something like this...well...this is my business card." The young woman nodded, and passed her business card to Brendon. Brendon looked at the woman blankly, not quite sure what to make of her. But before he could respond with a question about what she had said, or just say a simple 'thanks', someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. "What?" He asked exhaustedly, and turned back around.
"I've called 911, sir. Is there anyone in there you need help taking out of the car or something?" An older man asked Brendon eagerly. Brendon shook his head. "No...thank god I didn't have anyone else in the car..." He murmured, more to himself than to the old man. As Brendon turned around to talk to the young woman again, he discovered she was...gone.
He flipped over the business card.
Miss Kelly-Ann Schumaacker
The rest of the business card-her occupation and street of wherever she worked-was blacked out with Sharpie, though. Brendon wondered whether it was because she didn't quite trust him all the way, or if it was accidentally done. Before he could ponder the subject even more, though, more people had begun to question him about the accident, and some others even claimed they were witnesses. It wasn't too long afterwards the police arrived, and towed his car. He made a few calls to his bandmates-it was definitely confirmed he wouldn't be making it to the concert on time.