The Silent Neighbour ✓

Chapter Twenty Two

Nova Johnson

No.

No..

No...

I look Alexander in the eyes and stare at him with all my might as I slowly return to my steps and hit with the wall.

The little boy is no longer alive. Everyone said he died as a result of my mother's remarks, that he committed suicide, and that I couldn't save him.

I shake my head at Alexander in front of me, not trusting a single thing he has said to me. He attempts to walk closer to me, "stop! Don't you dare come near me." He holds both hands in surrender. Alexander is the little boy, the boy who I thought I killed.

He stood right in front of me.

"Y-The little boy is dead, everyone knows that." I stutter on my words.

"I'm standing right here." He takes one step closer, "I didn't commit suicide, I just ran away from New York."

"I lived-my whole life thinking I had a death of a little boy in my hands! And now you're trying to kill me!" I raise my voice in an unfriendly matter.

"I've been protecting you my whole life, I'm not the one who wants to fucking kill you Nova," he tries to come closer. My body collides with the corner of the room as I hold onto the pocketknife, I grabbed from the table beside me.

"Don't you come near me, don't." He takes another step. "No!"

"My father wants to kill you Nova, that book has his annotations inside. I am reading it to see what he wants to do with you, you know Jane?" Jane...how does he know Jane? "Jane your social worker?"

"I know who the fuck jane is, I don't know who you are!"

"Jane is my little sister, she has been helping me to protect you, she got you the apartment next door to me-my father is a dangerous man and he is after you. So yes, call it stalking, call it abuse of power, call it lying and secrets, but I'll do anything to protect you."

Jane was Alexanders little sister.

Alexander Solonik was my neighbour, he was the little boy I used to see by the window of my garden. He helped me get my ball back and then came to say hello with bloody hands, he saw me upset and wanted to cheer me on, Alexander Solonik is now standing right in front of me.

And to say confusion has not gotten the best out of me-is a lie.

"How do I know you're not after me? Look at your hands, I did that. I hurt you. Why are you protecting me? It makes no sense Alexander. No sense. Who protects them who hurt them?"

You may argue that I was correct, because when someone betrays you, you cling onto that betrayal and never let it go.

He wanted me to help him through the night with bloodied hands, and all I did was run into the kitchen like a scared little girl. I had the option of telling my mother about him, but instead I hid under my bedsheets and slept like a baby.

Alexander sticks to where he stood, whilst i took the situation in hand. He paused for a moment or three before answering my recent question;

"Nova, I love you and have always loved you. I knew you were different the moment you moved, the way you rushed with the butterfly catcher—then you'd be disappointed because you caught nothing but bugs. The way you used to play football against your garden fence, how you used to cry when your mother wouldn't let you play for longer. I was never allowed to leave the home the day you unintentionally booted the ball to our side, but I did it for you since you cried day and night over it."