Chapter 21

379 36 16
                                    

“Stop!” I yelled but he was stronger than me. Once we were inside again, he closed the door behind me.

Still not letting go of my arm, he pulled me along towards the living and sat himself down on the love-seat while I stood a few steps away from him.

“What do you keep looking for? The landline is far, maybe your phone to report me?" He spoke like it was a normal to forcefully enter the house and do I don't know what. "Look at me.” He ordered as I was looking around the room to see if ‘it’ was still there.

Either I'm being paranoid or there's really something in my house. Why the hell did he pull me in here again?!

“I said look at me.” He held my chin firmly and turned my face towards him.

“What do you want from me?” I asked while my chin was still between his cold thumb and index finger.

“You saw me punch Ethan that day, right?” He asked.

“I didn’t.” I said plainly. I had practiced saying that so many times that it seemed to become true for me too.

But what if...what I know is one of the reasons that led to Ethan taking his own life? What if...this guy is really to blame? He wouldn't go around trying to hide this fact if it really didn't harm Ethan. Why...do I regret not telling this to anyone?

“That’s more like it. Always answer this way.” He smiled and let go off me,” If you tell anyone about what you saw, I will ruin this pretty face of yours.”

Yes, for now, I want this guy gone and myself to get out.

He stood up,” No one’s home?”

“I-- I’m heading out so will you please leave?” I tried in every way to not provoke him.

“How impolite.” He paused," I'll see you in school, though. Until I'm bored."

“Just get out.” I said.

He walked out and I followed closely. I locked the door and walked to a nearby park while he left in his black BMW.

Why is he being like this when his brother just recently... committed suicide?

I called Stace and told her to come to the park and not my house. I needed to empty my mind to her since she was the only one I could tell, without getting thrown into an asylum.

The Third WordWhere stories live. Discover now