Chp.8

I didn't sleep. At all. I dreamt about you. How happy you were. How peaceful. And you're calling for me and I'm happy and running after you. But then I stop when I see a knife in your hands. And your calls for me turn into screams. But I can't move. I can't, even though I want to. Even when I want you to let go of that stupid knife. But you don't. And you lift it in the air. I'm yelling for you to stop but you don't and you're about to plunge it in your stomach. And I'm still begging for you to stop because I'm terrified. But you don't. Just before you do it, I woke up and I gasped and my heart was thudding uncontrollably.

I'm okay now. But I was too scared to sleep, in case I dream about you again. Like a child awake in a thunderstorm. I can feel the light faint glow of the dawn, and I start feeling this rush in my mind. Because today is the day. Today is when I come close to you. And I'm excited yet afraid at the same time. But I need a perfect chance.

Yesterday night, I could hear Mom and Dad discussing about how the sooner we leave, the better. Dad said that they'll set out to look at the place the next thing tomorrow. Which is today. But I can't go, can I? No matter how much they want me to. Because I feel sick. My head is throbbing and my skin feels hot, my eyes sunken. They can't take me with them. Never in my life did I feel glad to be sick.

It's almost six in the morning when there's a knock on the door. And I know who it is. I close my eyes shut as she enters. She sighs and I can imagine her looking at me. Walking up to my bed, where I'm in deep sleep. She sits down next to me, whispering,

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Luke," She still thinks that I'm sleeping, "You didn't deserve any of this."

But she's wrong. You didn't deserve any of this, Jesse. This torture and blame. You didn't deserve to be known as the killer. And I hate all of them who say that you were one.

"It's going to go back to how it was." She assures more to herself than me, "We're going to be like we used to be. You'll forget her soon."

And I want to tell her that I don't want anything to change. Not until people know the truth about you. I don't want to forget you. She can't make me forget you by taking me to a new town. I know I'll live haunted for the rest of my life without the feeling of your presence. Why don't they understand that? Why doesn't anyone understand that? I wouldn't forgive myself if I leave New Jean. Because if you were here instead of me, then I know you would have argued and argued until you would have gotten what you wanted.

"We're going to be how we used to be," She repeats again, stroking my hair.

She's wrong. We can't be how we used to be. Not without you. None of us will change back to how they used to be. Because you aren't here.

I can sense somehow that Mom thinks that too.

And while she was stroking my hair, she must have noticed my hot skin.

"Did you wake him up yet?" Says a voice from the door. It's Dad.

I have my eyes shut tighter than before because I really really don't want to go anywhere. Even if it's for a visit.

"I don't think I should." Mom replies, getting up from the bed, taking her warmth with her.

"Why's that?" Dad asks, annoyed.

"I think he's sick," She touches my forehead to check my temperature, for confirmation, "He's got a fever."

Dad groans, muttering under his breath. "Fine," He finally says, "But wake him up and tell him that we'll be back by seven in the evening. It's a long drive there." He pauses before saying, "But he's still grounded and I'm taking the camera and laptop with me."

"Really?" Mom scoffs, "You don't have to do that."

"Oh, I need to do that, alright," Dad replies, firmly, "I'll be in the car."

I hear faint footsteps disappearing downstairs. Mom sighs again before nudging me gently. I pretend to wake up with a start and realize you were right about me taking part in the school play. But I had been too shy to do that.

"Wha-?" I slur.

Mom smiles, "It's just me, honey. We're going out to check out that new town."

"Am I supposed to come with you?" I ask innocently, getting up.

"No, no, you don't need to." Mom says hastily, seeing me stand unsteadily.

That, I didn't pretend to do. Because I do feel dizzy.

"You rest," She orders, "Take some tablets from the kitchen drawer."

I nod, and even that takes an effort.

I look at Mom with a blurry vision and notice how her hair is combed so properly and she's wearing a formal looking dress. She looks like when she used to go out with her friends. She looks like how she did before. But her blue eyes aren't cheery. They're just... blank.

"When will you come back?" I ask, eagerly. I need to know how much time I have.

"Well," She frowns in deep thought, "Your Dad did say we'll come back by seven."

"An hour?" I raise my eyebrows, even though I know when they'll come. But I was sleeping then.

She takes a long breath, "No. We'll be coming in the evening. Think you can manage that long with your fever?"

I roll my eyes, "Well, I'm not a five-year-old."

She smiles, but her face goes serious, "You're not supposed to go out though, I hope you know that?"

I sigh, nodding.

"And will you please pack her stuff while we're gone?" Mom asks.

"Alright." I give a tight smile.

She smiles again, a smile of trust. Like she knows I won't break it. She doesn't hope but knows. And I feel sorry for breaking it. But I have to. And besides, I'll be back in an hour or something. Maybe two. Then, I'll pack your stuff. They wouldn't even reach the town by then.

"Don't worry," I finally say, "I'll be alright."

"I hope so." She says quietly, before she closes the door behind me. When I hear the front door shut, I walk to the window and watch her sit in the car. Driving away.

I sit back on my bed, because of my stupid head being on fire. I grab my beanie from the table, wearing it, along with the USB.

I wait for fifteen minutes, randomly walking around the room, anxiety welling inside me.

I race downstairs after that, despite how I feel, going in the kitchen. I need to go as quick as possible. I feel like the paper will disappear if I don't. I take the spare keys and shove them in my pockets. I stop and give a glance to the kitchen drawer with the tablets. But it can wait. I need to get going. The morning feels icy so I wear my jacket.

I lock the front door, and start running towards the bus stop. A ten minute distance if I run.

I heave fog out of my mouth, the freezing wind piercing my heated skin. But I ignore it all. Like I ignore their comments. And it's much easier to ignore this fever than what they say about you. But it's all going to be over. Because I'm gonna find out. Gonna find out everything.

Panting, I reach the top of the hill. I look down at the café, narrowing my eyes at it. But I can't see any paper. Not from here anyway. I look around but see no one at all. I can't help but grin to myself as I descend.

I'll finally prove Skylar to be nothing but a liar. Soon, everyone will know the truth. They'll know you didn't do anything. And Dad won't think me as a psychopath.

I feel this rush of excitement and my blood is chasing and I feel so weak, my legs barely helping me stand. I cross the road. And I feel it. I feel you there. I feel like everything's going to change. And I'm grinning and grinning like crazy. Because I see it. A piece of paper. Sitting there, still, despite the wind. Slowly, I walk to it. And I don't even realize that I'm breathing heavily as I pick it up. It feels attached to the sidewalk. It takes a few minutes before I cautiously take it off, careful not to tear it. It's a note. A..

I frown, reading it.

There time has come. Now, they'll play the game, you did.

1. Ander Marsh.

2. Alexa Braham

3. Josh Richards

4. Sophie Sallow

5. Lukas Wells

They are chosen.

I'm frowning so hard as I read it again. And again and again and again.

Because it doesn't make any sense. What does this mean? Game? What game? Chosen? What the hell? And who's the 'you' in this? I wish you were here to solve this yourself right now. Because if this isn't suspicious then I don't know what is. But I feel sicker than ever. And I feel your presence is gone. Only the wind of daggers accompanying me.

You're not here and I feel confuse. I feel like... Skylar. She did know something. She does know something. I laugh, hysterically. Because I was right. She does know something. She didn't tell the truth. My grasp on the paper tightens. She is a liar! She's a bloody pathetic loser liar! She lied. And I was right about her! No one believed me but now they will.

That is, when I confirm the rest of the pictures, though. What if Skylar didn't even see the paper - I highly doubt that.

I take out my USB, holding the paper in the other hand.

That's when I feel like someone's behind me. I don't wait, quickly turning around. And it's someone I never expected to come. Her eyes are wide and I know she read it. She read that ruddy note.

She's standing there, in front of me now. I hold my breath. Because...

Wait, what is she even doing here?

If I expected someone to be here it'd be Skylar.

Not Sophie Sallow.

Damnit! Why did she have to come? Of all the days, why this one?