Shot In The Dark [Book 1]

3.9 - Stories For Strangers

"I have not been acting weird. I just want to make sure you're okay." I shake my head, following her around the living room and sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from her.

"You have been acting weird." She argues, picking at the nail polish on her nail. "You keep treating me like I have an oxygen tank strapped to my ass and a note on my forehead that says 'fragile. do not touch.'"

"You've got quite an interesting mind." I laugh at her narrative and she drops her hands into her lap, turning to me.

"I'm serious, Koleton. What's wrong?" She seems genuinely upset by my change in action and attitude, and it causes me to almost feel guilty. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I just don't want you to be upset." I shrug and she grabs my hand, causing me to look up from my lap and at her.

"You can tell me. I won't be upset, pinky promise."

She interlocks our pinkies and I feel my stomach knot up. I shift to where my body is fully facing her and she grins, looking at me hopefully.

"I'm scared, Margo. I don't want you to get hurt again. Seeing you fall that day, and the way you looked in that hospital bed; it was all so surreal. It hurt me to think that I nearly lost you." I meet her eyes again, realizing her expression hasn't shifted to anger or irritation, but sadness.

"Koleton, give me your hand." Her voice is soft, more suggestive rather than demanding. I place my hand into hers and she places it onto her chest so I can feel her heartbeat. "You literally saved my life. You didn't know that me passing out was me dying, but you didn't hesitate to take me to the emergency room. Hell, you didn't even let me hit the ground."

Her words cause me to feel more at peace with myself and how I helped in the situation.

I did help a lot, I just don't know how to accept it.

I sigh quietly, attempting to blow all of the stress away in one breath.

"You do know that I care about you, right? I know I can be a bitch, believe me, but I genuinely do care about your well-being." She whispers, letting go of my hand so I can pull it away from her chest.

"I know." I nod softly, not exactly knowing what to say. "I care about you too. That's why I made the decision to-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, I promise I know." She stops me, relief washing over me at her sudden statement. I doubt I'll ever be able to tell the story without crying, and I don't want her to see me cry. "Thank you, so much."

I should tell her, I really should. I'm just scared.

"What are you thinking about?" She whispers, placing her hand on top of mine and squeezing it. I open my mouth to say I'm not thinking, but she stops me. "Don't say that you weren't, because your forehead lines show when you're thinking, or stressed out. Please, tell me what you're thinking about, or tell me if you aren't comfortable with telling me."

She watches me closely, almost as if I'm a show she's watched over a billion times, but she only just noticed something random about it. I stare back at her, trying to stay grounded as her innocent eyes pull me in like an irresistible force.

"I just want you to know that I'm happy that you're safe. Protecting you is my job and I'll make sure I don't do anything to hurt you." I whisper and she smiles. She lets go of my hand and stands up, startling me. She looks away from me, her smile not fading a single bit.

She walks over to the cabinet beside the television and opens it, not bothering to explain what she's doing. She pulls out a box that's no bigger than a chihuahua and brings it over to the couch.

She sets it between us as she sits herself down as well. I finally manage to speak, the shock fading away. "What's this?"

"This," She opens the box and I can nearly see her heartbeat beating out of her chest. "Is my family."

The lid moves from the top of the box to bring a stack of photos and envelopes into view. I look up at her, almost scared to even look into the box. This feels like an invasion of privacy.

"Well, an attempted family. This has baby photos, letters from my parents when they would get sent to jail, small art projects I've done, and so forth." She lets out a sigh and pushes the box towards me. "I want you to see these sides of me."

"Margo, you don't have to-"

"No, I want to. I've been thinking about this for a while now. I don't open up to people like I should, but if I'm going to start then I want you to be the first person to see this side of me." She shakes her head and picks the top few pictures up, holding them out for me to grab. "No walls, no secrets, no fear. Just me."

I hesitate before grabbing the pictures from him, finally looking down to examine them. The top one is a picture of her, no older than three years old, with an older boy that seems to be around sixteen. They're in a pile of leaves that must have been pushed into a pile.

She's wearing overalls on top of a pink long sleeve shirt. She looks happy.

"There's dozens of pictures in here, you can't spend all evening just looking at that one." Her voice causes me to jump slightly and I smile.

"Sorry, you just-"

"Look happy? Yeah, that was a good day."

The next phot is her and the same boy lying on a couch. The picture is taken from a terrible angle and although she isn't smiling, she looks happy in this one as well.

Not the same type of happy as the other picture. That one was a chaotic happy, an adventurous happy. This one is a well rested happy, a calm happy.

"I was a fat baby." She laughs, grabbing the picture as I set it down.

This one is her with a woman and a younger girl. She's older in this one. She seems to be five, maybe six. The woman looks exactly like how current Margo looks. It must be her mother.

I move to the next thing and it's a small paper that holds hand-writing that belongs to a younger Margo. The paper says "when I grow up, I want to be happy."

"I'm still working on that goal, but baby Margo would be proud." Margo smiles, pulling one of her knees up to her chest and resting her head on it.

The next paper is another picture, the picture making my jaw slightly drop. "This is Luke."

The picture is being taken by a third person while Luke and Margo hold each other as if they're a couple on vacation. They seem to be in a school cafeteria and Margo looks happy. Tired, but happy. Luke's lips are connected to Margo's cheek and it seems to be making her laugh.

"Yeah, we were really good friends before I moved away. Its a shame that we only began to get close right before I moved." She shrugs, taking the picture from me.

"What's stopping you guys from being friends now?" I ask quietly and she sighs.

"It's not the same, we were kids here. We didn't know much, but we knew that we liked each other's presence. Now, we're older and we know a lot more. We've grown a lot, distancing us more than ever before." She sets the picture down and looks up at me. "We don't have the same connection. We had the connection in this picture that you and I currently have."

God Luke, how did you deal with it?

"Really?" I furrow my eyebrows and she nods, a small smile appearing on her face.

"He was my safe haven in Australia. My distraction. He knew that I had liked Calum since we were kids and he would help ease me into talking to him."

"Does he still help, with talking to Calum?" My question seems odd, but it's valid.

"You mean, do I still like Calum? No, not like that. I don't think." She shrugs and it causes my stomach to flip.

Tell her.

Tell her right now.

"What are you thinking about?" She hums, looking at me with concern and I let out a sigh, setting the pictures down.

"Margo, I have to tell you something. You have to promise not to get mad though."