17 Made Mistakes

⋆26༄ Different sources

Hello! Hopefully the chapter is good. I've been having a headache, so the corrections were really difficult for me. Enjoy xxx

__________

"It must've been him. Who else could it be if not Connor?" I complain to the phone, filling Anaya in with all of the details of what has recently happened in my life.

"I mean, yeah, you're right. After all, he was the only person who saw you cry that evening, unless someone else was watching you," she pauses, pondering. "Wait, didn't you mention before that your parents had installed the cameras outside and inside the house?" she asks, but quickly answers this question herself. "Oh no, you also said the one outside only covers the threshold, not the actual area."

"Exactly." I let an exasperated breath out. "I mean, it's not much of a surprise that Connor could be behind it all, but why? What he said about Beverly was true."

"True not true, it doesn't matter. If it was him, he shouldn't have broken into your house."

"I just really thought that he could be a nice guy, you know, just like his brother." I sigh, shifting my phone from one hand to the other. Then the sound of the doorbell reaches my ears. "I've got to go. He's here," I explain, quickly hanging up.

Having descended the stairs, I stride in the direction of the front door and furiously swing it open. "Hi," I spit, starting at him.

"You okay?" he questions warily, noticing my grave expression. "Did something happen?"

"Your insanity happened, Connor." I hiss, showing him the piece of paper that I took with me downstairs. "Look familiar?" I raise a brow, bringing the neon pink letters closer to his eyes.

"What the fuck is this?" He first analyses the paper, then my face.

"Don't act daft. You're the only one who saw me cry yesterday." I cross my arms over my chest, awaiting the answer.

Connor lets out a breath of vexation and shakes his head. "Obviously." He snorts, looking to the side. "Why doesn't it surprise me? Anything bad happens and I am the first suspect. What a shocker." He retrieves his brown eyes to me and they glow with disbelief.

"Prove it then. Prove that it wasn't you," I demand, waiting patiently.

"Call Mason. Speak to my parents. Do whatever you want." He shrugs his arms, annoyed. "I walked you back home and went to sleep. Then I spent all day with my family. Besides, pink isn't really my colour, Davina."

"This isn't funny. Someone sent this to me yesterday, and if it wasn't you, then who else could it be?"

"How am I supposed to know? Maybe Reyman hired himself a person to stalk you?" He opens his arms in uncertainty. "Whoever it was, I assure you that it wasn't me." He sighs, gently yanking the paper off my hands. "You said that someone sent it yesterday?"

"Yes," I respond curtly.

"Well, then they must've used the same day delivery service." He looks at me knowingly. "Was the envelope marked special?"

"Um . . . no, it wasn't. It didn't even . . . have a stamp." I suddenly realize. Because of its lack, it couldn't have been delivered by mail, yet it was.

"That means that whoever you got this from, had to either hand it in personally or asked the postman to deliver it for them."

"Mason said it was delivered," I murmur in a tired voice, exhausted by always having some issues. "I could check the cameras at the restaurant, considering they actually work, but even if I find the postman on the footage, it'd take me at least weeks to find the man."