17 Made Mistakes

⋆16༄ The victim.

Before I even say hi (hello by the way, lmao), I just wanted to say thank you for the support, for bearing with the cliffhangers (your favourites, I know *a cheeky smile*), and thank you for giving this book, and the first volume a chance. Having worked on this chapter I realized how poorly written was the first book when I first STARTED it (yes, new readers, it was much worse at the beginning, I literally feel bad to admit, but someone has to, lol). I will be coming back soon to the first book to FULLY correct it and make it enriched, yet I have a few weeks before doing so. This chapter is VERY important, and I really enjoyed writing it, even re-reading it. I hope you'll notice the difference in my wording and also the effort that I put into this chapter. Hope the quality is as impeccable as it only can be. Love you xxx

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His fingers tremble as he approaches me, his brown eyes burn bright. From my current, sitting position it feels as if he grew at least a couple of inches when I tilt my head up to look at him. I'm not tied up, yet I find myself unable to move. When he emerges behind me, and his hands land on the back of the chair, my stomach twists in uneasiness. "Can you get up?" His voice drills through my head, even though it's quiet and polite. "I need this." He pats the piece of furniture like an old, good dog.

"Sure." I clear my throat, leaping up, letting him move the chair across the room. "What is he doing?" I mouth, widening my eyes at Mason in bemusement.

A flicker of an odd smile passes across his face as he dallies towards me. Then he leans down, his gentle fingers sweep my hair off my cheek, tucking the strands behind my ear, right before he clasps his hand at my nape. "He's taking out my favourite knife." His whisper is menacing, causing my stomach to plummet in dread.

"Wh-what?" My stutter emerges, quavery and faint.

"You didn't really think there was some evidence, did you?" His voice remains low, his cobalt-blue eyes examine his brother's frame as he fumbles for something that was hidden in the storage area of his room. "Now you're trapped with two crazy murderers." His words are so quiet that they remotely sound human, purely soft and hushed, evoking a memory of rustling trees in the summer.

Then he grabs my trembling chin in between his fingers and turns my head in his direction, his expression stays impenetrable, yet his eyes betray him when they crease with mirth.

"Ruddy idiot!" I whisper shout, whacking him on the chest, feeling my whole body deflate in relief. "And stop grinning. It wasn't funny at all!" I hiss at him, nevertheless smiling, momentarily going quiet as Connor gets off the chair with a small, jewelry-like box in his hand.

"Are you going to propose?" Mason takes the mick, eliciting a threatening look from his brother in return.

Nevertheless, Connor doesn't respond, intentionally overlooking that remark. He then drags the chair to the desk where his laptop resides and fires up the device. Opening the small box, he takes a memory stick out of it, plugging it in once the computer is ready to be used.

"What is this?" I move closer, and so does Mason, both of us naturally intrigued, staring at one folder dated 2016/2017 — the year before, and of Beverly's suicide.

"Find out for yourselves. I don't want to see these again," Connor states grimly, retreating from the room, leaving us with the mystery folder on his laptop that we eventually decide to open.

My heartbeat rapidly accelerates as my eyes fall upon a few videos. Videos of Connor and Beverly only. "Who took them?" I ask, staring at Mason, my stomach churns in sudden nervousness. For once Connor hasn't lied, and it seems like there really is some truth for us to be seen.