Synthetic Heart

17 - Spilled

   My ninja skills are spreading around my body like wildfire as I jump from window to window to take a glimpse at one of the officers. After a few minutes searching for familiar faces, I land on the edge of a room where Megan is staying. She's sitting on her bed as her back was leaning on the hard wall.

What a comfortable place to stay in. Brick and unpainted walls, old frames with bloodstains and a real bed. She's got luggage in the room. I don't get it. She can't be a prisoner if she's sitting comfy in a bed and all that. Except if, of course, she's really that rich to afford a big cell. But that can't be, if she's that rich, then she can easily bail herself out. Oh, goddamn it.

Enough of thinking too much. I better confront her about this. She's got the answers, and I can't wait to know what's with prettyface.

* * *

   I lean the back of my head against the wall, looking up and wondering how Charles is. Where could he be and what plan he's coming up with.

   Greg suddenly comes in without knocking. He stands at the middle, "Megan?" he calls out, "We found out about the murder."

I take the pillow and bury my face on it, "I don't want to hear it." I mumble.

But he insists, "I don't think you're going to believe it." he says and stretches out his hand which is holding a file.

I look up at him with confusion, "What do you mean?" I ask him, "Specifically, what is it?" I ask him straight to the point.

He pauses then answers, "I think it's his rival, a few years ago, the lakeshore strangler."

My eyes widen hearing those familiar words. I remember, it's Chucky he's talking about. But, how did he know? There couldn't be any evidence. I wanted to ask how, but that'll make everything obvious. Quick thinking, Megan.

"Who is he?" I ask him with a shaking voice, "And where?" I stand up from the bed.

Greg steps closer to me, "I'm sorry for breaking it to you so fast, I just had to tell you so soon. So you'll stop worrying." Nothing worries me, except for Chucky who I haven't heard from since I came here.

He looks at me, concern in his eyes as he slowly puts his hand on my shoulder, he rubs it gently trying to comfort me.

* * *

   No fucking way. This greg fag just laid his finger on prettyface. Oh no, I meant his hands. And here's the main part, he starts rubbing her on the fucking shoulder. This old fag thinks he's her knight in shining armor? Well I don't think so.

Go home, old man! You've got a family to feed! This guy's nuts and he just crossed the line. And guess what, I have high tolerance for nuts. And molesting isn't one of 'em. Especially when he's molesting prettyface over there.

Before I could get in the picture, Greg the fag talks with her a few more seconds and then he leaves some paper on the desk and he left the room. Meg stands beside the desk, studying the file. She puts her hand over her mouth then she glances at the door.

Man, I should've known. I would've not showed her a little side of my 'gentleness' if you'll call it that way, if I knew she was teaming up with the good guys instead of me. Look at her, she's probably staying in this shithole to be taken care of the cops. Especially Greg. Well, I think I forgot to tell her that I get very jealous easily.

I know, I know I have no right. And I should hate her for taking the cops' side, but I gotta admit, I love staying with prettyface. She's not scared of me, and I love that. I love how she thinks she can stand up on me.