Kayla

Chapter 8

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The boy, whose name I learned was Michael, asked. The sky was getting darker, how long have I been walking?

"Yes it is." I assured him with a smile. We were still sitting on the porch.

"Okay. I better get out of this place," he told me and we kicked the rocks away together, and walked inside the orphanage.

It was getting darker and darker and everyone seemed to be gathered in their small, sectioned-off rooms for bed. No adults were to be seen either. We walked in quietly and started to do our work.

"What if they wake up?" He asked.

"They won't." I told him and carried the red paint from the basement up to the orphanage.

"Alright, I better be able to leave this place right after." He reminded me.

We splattered the paint everywhere, the deep red staining everything it touched. The dark red paint resembled blood almost. We poured the two buckets everywhere, splattering walls and furniture. I dipped my finger in the excess paint on the floor and began to write a message on the white wall:

I killed Jane

"Jane?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "You didn't.. you didn't actually kill someone, did you..?" He looked terrified.

I just laughed. "No."

"Good. Now what?" He sighed in relief and asked.

"Now we leave before anyone wakes up." I told him and we left through the window.

We began walking down the street and we pushed through some bush to stay out of sight.

"What's your name? I never asked." Michael broke the sudden silence.

"Ka-" I realized I was about to tell him my real name. "Kyle." I said, silently patting myself on the back for the quick name.

"Why did we do that? Now it looks like some murderer vandalized the orphanage." Michael laughed nervously and shook his head. He's probably scared.

I stayed silent. We kept walking until I broke the silence.

"I don't know. It could seem like someone kidnapped you or something." I thought on the spot.

"I shouldn't have left. Now it's just going to cause more problems." The boy shook his head.

"No! They'll think it's some silly prank." I assured him. We were walking and I had forgotten it was completely dark by now, night time.

"Not when there's a crazy killer girl on the loose." He told me and I shivered and went silent.

"Killer girl?" I asked, pretending to be dumb and unaware.

"Yeah. It's all over the news now. Some girl killed her brother and ran away, they can't find her." He explained to me, raising an eyebrow as I should already know this.

"I bet she's not that crazy." I told him and he burst into laughter.

"Not that crazy? Did you hear what I said she did? She killed her brother."

"Yeah. But maybe she had a good reason to. Maybe she was just mad." I told him, and any second I wanted to just jump out of my 'costume' and say 'it's me!'

"Nope. Only a serial killer would think that's normal. And with that little stunt you pulled, they'll think Kayla did it." He explained to me.

"Yeah, that's why I did it. To make it look like Kayla went there and they won't think two boys did anything." I replied to him.

He just silently shook his head and we kept walking. We finally reached a small park, it was dark and it looked really creepy at this hour. We trailed over to the swings and began to swing, it made the set make a creak noise, it felt like it would fall apart any second.

"I miss my mom. I just wish she wasn't so stupid. My dad too." Michael broke the silence and his voice seemed much louder now, due to the silence in the park.

"Are they dead?" I asked.

"My dad is. He died during a drug-overdose. And my mom lost custody of me," he said silently, I could hear in his voice that any second he would burst into tears.

"Why?" I asked. This conversation was better then our previous one, I wasn't sure how I long I would be able to talk about 'myself' without 'being myself' any longer.

"She did drugs and was a stripper when she was younger. I was put in an orphanage because, well, my grandparents died early and no one could take me." He explained to me.

"I know how that—" I realized if I told him anymore about my, Kayla's family life, he would know, and he can't find out. Now at least.

"So you really don't know anything about the Kayla thing?" He asked. Here we go again.

"Not really," I answered.

"A lot more information is coming out about her. About where she was living before she ran away, about who her real parents were..." he said and my heart jumped out of my chest.

"Really?" I asked, my voice just sounded like a croak.

"Yeah. Her mom was a prostitute, I guess like my mom. Her mom's name was Amber." He said, and I wished he would stop talking.

"I wonder if my mom knew hers, I mean, they did the same things." He said. "My mother's name was Jane."

I stopped breathing. So this all makes sense now.

The little boy's clothes.

The lonely, sad woman trying to make up for her mistakes in life.

This boy's mom.

He knew so much information, it was like he knew who I was, and he was just taunting me with what he knows. And I hated it.

I jumped out of the swing and pushed him up. "What the hell..?" He asked, brushing the dirt off him. "What was that for?" He asked.

"I'm done pretending. You know everything now." I sobbed.

He raised an eyebrow. "What..? I don't know anything about you." He rubbed his eyes.

"You know everything." I reminded him.

"What? You're crazy.. who are you?" He asked.

"Kayla. Kayla Parker." I said as I walked closer to him.