Kayla

Chapter 9

"What are you.. what are you doing?" The boy scrambled to his feet.

I didn't answer. When I didn't give him an answer at all, it made his eyes widen in fear.

"Don't.. please don't kill me," Michael pleaded with fear clear in his brown eyes. "I'll do anything."

"You'll do anything for me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, anything." He was on his feet now, keeping his distance from me.

"Help me," I offered, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Help you?" He asked.

"Yes. You're going to help me." I explained to him.

"So I'm gonna have to kill people and stuff?" The boy gulped, he was sweating and just one glance at him and you'll know he wished he could run as fast as he can away from me.

I didn't answer, I just went back on the swing and continued to swing, the boy slowly doing the same.

"You don't look like a girl," he narrowed his eyes at my appearance.

"I am a girl." I told him. "I had to make myself look different or I would be found."

"You killed your brother." His eyes watered. "Why? Why would you kill him?"

"You don't know anything about me," I said and shivered as the wind started to pick up.

"I know everything about you. I told you, the news is out. Everyone knows." He informed me and I wanted to just push him off the swing.

"They know what they know. No one knows me, not even my family." I told him.

Michael stopped swinging for a second and looked over at me. "If you let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone. I won't tell anyone where you are or that you were here."

"No, you promised to help me." I shook my head at Michael.

"For how long?" He whined.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. I don't know exactly what I'm doing or what my next plan is, all I know is that with someone else's help, it would be so much better.

It was silent for a while now. All you heard was the wind, the swing set creaking of old age and use, and traffic in the distance.

"I think our mothers knew each other," he said.

"How would you know?" I countered. He doesn't know anything about my mom either.

"Because Amber and my mom did the same things. Of course my mom was much older," he said.

"They didn't know each other, my mom barely talked to anyone, at least when I was alive." I told him.

We started to walk again and I had no idea how long we were in that park. Michael told me he knew this one place that we could go to. I didn't know if I could trust him, he could expose me and I would be caught. But he led me to a small, abandoned house with shattered windows and chipping white paint.

"How do you know about this place?" I asked as we crossed the dead grass.

"Me and my buddy used to break into this place all the time." He said as he swung the old door open, the stench of dust and mold growing.

"It stinks." I scrunched my nose.

"It does. It's been forever since someone took care of this place." Michael scrunched his nose too and we entered the dark home, the only light offered to us was the moon's light gleaming through the windows.

"We can sleep here," Michael pointed to a cleared-off spot in the corner of the living room, I'm assuming.

"Okay." I said. He laid down on one corner and I on the other.

I thought about how everything changed two days ago; I didn't know I was capable of all this. There's no turning back now. Mr. and Mrs. Ian are probably telling their sap stories to the news and police, about how much they 'loved me' and cared for me. If they did, they would've been there for me instead of constantly yelling and lecturing at me. They knew all about my past, but offered no help to me. All they did was tell me to shut up, not think about it and moved on. If only I could move on, I wouldn't be in this mess now.

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"Shut up! Stop making noise," mom yelled at me and shoved pills in my mouth, and I choked and tried to spit them out.

"Don't you dare spit them out!" She yelled and held my mouth closed.

Eventually she stopped struggling and I spit all of the pills out. Tears stained my cheeks and I breathed heavily, trying to catch my breath.

"You stupid girl!" Mom slapped me across the face and it stung my cheek, but I was already used to this pain.

I was seven years old and I've already witnessed everything, I wish I had a voice and I could get away from her. But she's my mom, I love her. I wish she loved me too.

Another night, Mom picked up my sleeping body and held it over an open window, then pushed me off. I fell and woke up midway through the fall, screaming and slamming against the unkept grass and plants.

The police was called by someone, a neighbor probably, and they came over. I had no voice, I could barely speak and defend myself. Mom twirled her hair and put on her best fake smile, saying, "she must have fallen out on accident! I'm sorry police, I will keep a better eye on her."

And if they didn't believe her, she would sleep with them until they forget about what happened.