Letters to Elle

18 | The Not-So-Suspect

i really hope you didn't see this coming i might cry if you did oh yes & this story is almost over. i'm sorry it was so short. first draft and all. :3 don't forget to vote and comment. i love you guise that read this. there are like 2-3 chapters left and maybe an epilogue if i don't put my epilogue idea in the last chapter. enjoy. 

(i'm still trying to figure out how to tell you all in the story how the killer did things without it being a major infodump, cliche antagonist rant.)

                        EIGHTEEN

                        THE NOT-SO-SUSPECT

                                    ♡♡♡

            W—

            So quick to trust false words instead of the actual truth.

            XBXB

            (Hugs and blood)

This time, the note fails to evoke any emotion in me other than irritation. Rather than being scared and shaking in my hypothetical boots, instead I’m just leaning against my bed with the note crinkling inbetween my fingers and anger flaring in my system.

            By now, after all the letters and warnings that I’ve gotten, I’m ready to get over with it and be done once and for all. I’m getting sick and tired of being scared to walk out of my own house in fear of running into the killer and being slaughtered before I even get the chance to say goodbye to my family.

            I ball the note up in my hand and toss it into the trash. A weight is lifted off my shoulders once the paper ball lands at the bottom of the tin can.

            “Why does life suck so much?” I automatically feel stupid after the words leave my mouth, because there’s no one here to listen to me complain.

            My phone keeps pinging, notifying me that I’m receiving text messages. I know that each and every one of them are from Jeremy, because he’s been trying to contact me ever since I left him—standing in the pouring ran, I might add—at the park after my thoughts were starting to string together into one extremely long sentence. Seeing Jeremy’s face was too much for me, and there was an easy solution. Leave. And so I did.

            I glance over at my phone for a second and see that I’m right. Jeremy. Over and over again.

            I sigh, reaching over to turn my phone off, but right before I slide across the screen to power the device down, I get a call. Jake.

            “What do you want?” 

            “Well, hello to you, too.” On the other line, Jake sounds happy. Static and boisterous sounds travel through the line, and I wonder where my brother is.

            I decide it doesn’t really matter. “What do you want?” I repeat.

            “Somebody’s not happy today,” Jake grumbles.

            “No,” I say, “not really. Now. I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

            Jake chuckles, his deep voice filling my ears. “Well, I ran into some trouble at Walmart and—“

            I groan in annoyance. Jake always runs into trouble. He’s always been the animated one between the two of us. Sure, I’ve been to my fair share of parties and nights made of good fun, but booze and good nights just ran through Jake’s blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s at a prison. “And what kind of trouble is this?” I interrogate him. “Girl trouble? Alcohol trouble? Boy trouble?” I fear this one. “Legal trouble?”