Dear Leo (An Area 11 FanFiction)

Chapter Thirty Five-Gone

28th March 2015

"Ah...no...no...NO!" I mumble, my eyes shooting open with a gasp. I put a hand on my chest to feel my racing heart. Where the heck am I?

"Hey, hey you're ok. It's ok," Sparkles* whispers to me. The credits of Lilo And Stitch are rolling in the background. Oh yeah, we'd been watching a film. I must have fallen asleep on the sofa. I really need to stop doing that. It's pitch black outside, but according to the clock I couldn't even make it to midnight. "Do you want to talk about it?" I hesitantly shake my head.

"Not now. Not really. I don't know. Fine." I sit up properly next to him and stretch. "Did I wake you up?"

"Nah, I woke up a few minutes before you. And stop trying to change the subject."

I groan. "Look, it's just thinking about Ethan and what he said and-"

"Woah woah, wait. When did he talk to you?" Crap.

"Um...just...stuff from years ago..."

"You and I both know that's a lie," Sparkles* frowns. Damn, why does he have to be so concerned, I hate that I'm worrying him. "When did you last see him?"

"...A few days ago." Sparkles* takes a quick breath.

"What did he say?" He says calmly. I thought he'd be a lot more panicky about this. I fix my eyes on the film credits, avoiding eye contact with Sparkles*.

"He seems to think I want to go back with him and...stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff that we do not need to talk about," I answer firmly. "I don't know what to do."

"We're going to the police," Sparkles* says. Before I can protest, he stops me. "This is serious Grace, we need to get him away from you. Go get Leo, he probably knows more than I do."

I reluctantly go next door and let myself in. Despite not wanting to do this, I know that it's the right thing to do. It makes sense really, if Ethan's locked up he can't get to me at all. I wouldn't be going to get Leo at all right now if I was that determined not to go to the police.

"Leo? Leo, you need to get up, Sparkles* is making us..." I trail off and stare around the room. The coffee table is flipped on its side, a smashed mug lying in the centre of a puddle of cold coffee. The cushions have been thrown off the sofa, and the blind has been bent and pulled down.

A piece of ripped paper is taped to the kitchen counter. By the looks of it the paper came from my sketchbook, there's a faint outline of a doodled tree on the right side. The words have been hurriedly written in black permanent marker, smudged with dark reddish brown in the bottom corner. My stomach flips at the sight of it.

Meet me at the fountain. 5am (I know you're awake) tomorrow. Look forward to seeing you alone again.

For now Leo's pretty good company x