Innocent Murderers

[14] this is why i don't socialise

This is not my bedroom.

This room is well-lit, light and airy. It's huge, gold lining across the ceiling and light blue curtains draped across a huge window. I fumble for my phone and find it dead, on the floor next to the king-sized bed I seem to be lying on. My legs swing over the side but I quickly tuck them away again, mortified.

I'm not wearing clothes.

The thought sends shivers down my spine that could be from the cold. Hesitantly, I turn my head and almost scream.

Adam Kentucky is lying, asleep, next to me. He is also naked. I spy my clothes flung about the room, and weigh up the odds of him waking up in the time it takes me to get dressed and leave. I decide it must be possible, so I sneak one last look at his oddly peaceful face, black hair messy and sleepy on his head, neater than Aaron's but still perfectly not-perfect. I push away the thoughts, disgusting myself.

I had sex with a murderer.

I start to cry. I swear to never drink alcohol again.

He rolls over, groaning softly.

This is bad.

I swiftly pull on my underwear and my shorts, fumbling to slip my t-shirt over my head. I gaze at him again, take my phone from the floor and leave, the door shutting behind me. His apartment is huge, and empty. A document falls to the icy marble floor next to my feet and I curse, but my eyes lock on the words printed across the top.

Elin Harper

A picture to match the name draws my eyes in again, the woman smiling at the camera almost completely consumed by her wild ginger hair, and freckles. A subconscious hand grasps my own hair I've always condemned but it makes her look wild, and free.

"Kennedy?" Adam's voice echoes from the bedroom and I put the paper back on the desk pushed against the wall and hurry to the black door I'm praying leads outside.

==

I contemplate going back to the Youth Hostel, but instead decide to let myself be alone with my thoughts.

I slept with a murderer.

He's the reason someone died.

His hands are dirty and I let him touch me in places nobody else has. I find myself choleric, pulling at my hair and picking at my nails as I pace up and down the street, ignoring the people staring at me.

A thought hits me and I stop abruptly, a disgruntled mother sending a string of words my way, but my eyes are fixed on the floor beneath my feet.

I forgot I had a boyfriend. Noah must be livid. I pull my dead phone from my pocket and throw it to the ground in frustration. I find myself picking it up and frowning at the smashed screen. Huffing, I walk into a music shop next to me, hoping someone in there would have a phone. The boy behind th counter looks to be not much older than me, and he smiles.

"Welcome to Times Music, how may I help a fine lady like you?" He asks, voice high and sweet. I smile, my mood lifting slightly.

"I was wondering if I could borrow a phone?" I reply. His eyebrows raise slightly.

"Yes, of course but you'll have to wait. My sister's using it at the moment."

I nod politely and stand near where he is positioned behind the counter.

"So, you play?" He asks, snapping me from my reverie.

"What?"

"Do you play an instrument?" He repeats, amused.

"Um, I used to play the piano." I say, almost whispering. The boy emerges from behind the counter and leads me to a Steinmayer grand piano stationed towards the back of the shop. He gestures for me to sit, and I obey.

"Let's hear then," He prompts. A hot blush creeps onto my cheeks.

"I haven't played for three years." I say, letting my hands brush over the keys, cold to the touch. He smirks, and slides beside me. I budge up, the blush not escaping my cheeks.

I feel a warm hand enveloping my own, bringing it to what I remember as a c-sharp chord.

"Did you ever play Moonlight Sonata?" He asks, placing his own hand next to mine. A memory comes into my mind like a rogue picture. I nod.

He leads off, taking the higher part. I play the chords, keeping in perfect timing with his hand, delicate and graceful. I can see his eyes, focused and determined as they follow his hand perfectly. Two minutes of our playing passes, and a young girl maybe thirteen bustles in with a phone in her hand.
"I'm done, Josh." She says, a hand on her hip. He chuckles and stands up, taking the phone with a careful 'thank you'. I follow him back to the front, aware of his sister following me with hurried feet.

He passes it to me, and I dial Noah's number, praying my memory doesn't deceive me.

The line rings twice, and his voice makes my knees go weak with relief.

"This is Noah, who may I help?"

"Noah, it's Kennedy." I say, voice quiet.

"Kennedy?" He almost yells, "Oh my god, I heard about what happened. Are you okay? Where are you? What happened to your phone?"

"I'm still in New York, yes I'm okay and my phone is dead." I say.

He sighs.

"Thank god. Anyway, when are you coming back?" He asks.

"I don't know. Technically I'm supposed to be with my aunt because I'm not eighteen but she hasn't contacted me so I'm still here."

"You could come and stay with me, you must be so lonely!"

"Actually, I made some friends and I'm staying in a Youth Hostel with them."

"Well, then I'll fly out to meet you."

My heart drops.

"Um, sure yeah. Just send me your flight details and I'll meet you at the airport." I rush out, and hang up.

Josh is staring at me, mouth parted slightly.

"Thank you," I say, handing him back the phone. He smiles, and waves me off as I step back out into the street.

For some reason, I don't want Noah to come here. He's my boyfriend, and I haven't seen him in ages.

I forgot about him.

I find myself stepping in a puddle, and then I become a child and slump on the side of the road, against a building as cold seeps into my shoe.

I start to cry ugly tears, sobbing into my hand.

Everything is a mess.

All I seem to be doing is crying but I don't know what else to do.

An old man looks at me sympathetically.

"Are you okay?" He asks, dropping a chocolate coin into my hand.

I slept with a murderer, almost kissed my best friend, my parents died in a fire someone did deliberately and my boyfriend I forgot existed is coming to see me where I ran away to after an argument with my dead parents. Oh, and the murderer I slept with has a picture of a woman who looks exactly like me with the same last name as me.

"Yes, thank you."

==

Why do I like this chapter so much?

Anyway, things are picking up slightly.

K byeeeeee