It Started With Hello

Chap. 103

"If it's any consolation, I'm... I'm sorry for the way I've treated you all these years," she whispered before opening her car door. She looked at the ground in shame. "I'm not asking you to forgive me, but... I'm sorry."

Emma swallowed, not responding as Reina climbed into her car, started the engine, and drove down the road. Emma was left frozen at the end of her driveway. When she finally got herself together, she turned, walking back to her porch. Halfway up, she saw something shiny on the side of the house. Raising a brow, she walked over to the object lying on the grass. Leaning down, she picked it up; it was a knife. Turning it over in her hand, she looked around the yard, a feeling of unease washing over her.

"How did this get here?" she whispered, questioning how this random knife got out here on the side of her house. A shiver ran down her spine. She quickly walked back to her front door, telling herself that maybe her father or mother must have left it out here. But deep inside, she knew the truth: someone had been outside their house tonight. Someone with possibly bad intentions.

***Thirty Minutes Earlier

I crouched low behind the overgrown azaleas bordering the Pear's neatly manicured lawn, the damp earth seeping through the knees of my dark jeans. The air hung heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant aroma of their dinner, chicken alfresco, a detail I'd picked up from the open kitchen window earlier. Moonlight filtered through the oak trees, dappling the lawn in shifting patterns of light and shadow. In my right hand, the cool, smooth handle of a large kitchen knife felt like an extension of my own bones. Its sharp blade glinted faintly in the dim light.

Tonight hadn't been part of the initial plan, which was to observe Emma from a distance, report her routines and vulnerabilities back to him. But seeing Reina's bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle pull into the driveway for the past three evenings had ignited a furious curiosity.

What was she doing here? Was she somehow involved in his plan? The thought sent a jolt of possessive rage through me. No one touched what was meant for him to destroy. And certainly no one interfered with my access to Emma.

Through the slightly ajar living room window, I'd caught snippets of their forced pleasantries during dinner. Emma's parents, oblivious to the simmering tension and years of animosity between the two girls, were practically fawning over Reina's supposed change of heart. It made me sick. Both of them were pathetic, Emma for her naive forgiveness, and Reina for her desperate attempt at redemption. They deserved whatever was coming to them.

Finally, the front door creaked open, and the two of them emerged, bathed in the warm glow of the porch light. Reina was offering some insincere thanks, her voice saccharine sweet. As they stood by Reina's yellow Beetle, their hushed conversation was just out of earshot, fueling my paranoia.

Were they plotting something together? A ridiculous notion, I knew, but the irrational tendrils of jealousy were hard to ignore. My grip tightened on the knife. An opportunity, perhaps? A way to expedite things, to show him my dedication, my efficiency?

Suddenly, a heavy hand clamped down hard over my mouth, the rough fabric of a glove pressing against my lips and nose, cutting off my breath.

Another hand, strong and unwelcome, locked around my wrist, the one holding the knife, his grip like iron. My heart leaped into my throat, and a strangled cry escaped my muffled lips. I thrashed against him, kicking out with my feet, trying to break free from his suffocating hold.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?!" he hissed, his angry whisper a hot breath against my ear. The low, gravelly voice registered, and a flicker of reluctant relief washed over me. It was just him, my unwanted partner in this twisted endeavor.

He finally loosened his grip on my mouth, but his hand remained clamped around my wrist. I kept my back to him, my chest heaving, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins "I could have killed two birds with one stone today," I spat, my voice still shaky with residual fear and frustration.

He sighed heavily, his gaze sweeping over to where Emma stood by Reina's bright yellow car. "I could still kill her now. That bitch is about to leave and no one's around. I'll make it quick," I whispered, my gaze fixed on Reina as she adjusted herself in the driver's seat of her distinctively girly ride. I took a step forward, the thrill of the potential kill sending a shiver down my spine.

His grip on my wrist tightened painfully, stopping me dead in my tracks. "You're going to get us all caught acting on your own like this. You're being too reckless. He already told you he wants to kill her himself. We are following the damn plan. Now, let go of the fucking knife."
The engine of the bright yellow Beetle roared to life as Reina backed out of the driveway. Emma stood there, watching her go. My hand trembled violently around the knife.

"I know you're crazy, but even you should know this is a dumb idea... let the knife go NOW," he repeated, his voice laced with a dangerous urgency.
With a frustrated grunt, I let my fingers loosen, and the knife fell silently to the damp grass. Just as the yellow car disappeared down the street, Emma turned to make her way back inside. He yanked me roughly, none too gently, behind the thick cover of a nearby forsythia bush.

My eyes remained glued to Emma as she paused, a flicker of confusion crossing her face as she spotted the glint of metal on the ground. My heart hammered against my ribs. She walked closer, her brow furrowed in curiosity, and then she bent down and picked it up.

"How did this get here?" she whispered, her voice barely audible even to my straining ears.

A slow, crooked smile stretched across my lips. Pure, unadulterated fear flickered across her features as she looked around the seemingly innocent yard before quickly retreating back to the safety of her porch. My partner watched me closely, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"I know you're enjoying yourself, fucking with her, but don't forget your place in this plan," he hissed when Emma was finally inside and the front door clicked shut.

We both climbed out of the bush. I leaned my head back against the rough bark of a nearby tree, the smile still plastered on my face. The image of Emma's fleeting moment of terror replayed in my mind. Unable to contain myself, a high-pitched, hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as tears streamed down my cheeks. I hadn't listened to a single word he'd said.
Suddenly, he grabbed the front of my shirt, lifting me slightly off my feet. The abruptness of the action cut short my laughter.

"When you came to us at The Underground that day, wanting to be a part of the plan, I knew it would be risky letting you be a part of all this, but he was the one who thought it would be a better idea having a girl keep tabs on her instead of me. If he only knew how sick and crazy you really were, then he would regret having you help."

I rolled my eyes, which only earned me a sharp, stinging slap across the face. It didn't truly hurt; in fact, there was a perverse satisfaction in the sting. "Nice slap, but it will take a lot more than that to get me off. Oh, and by the way, I'm not sick, I'm twisted. 'Sick' makes it sound like there's a cure for how I am. FYI, there isn't. But I've become pretty good at pretending to be sane," I whispered with a wide, unsettling grin.

He pushed me back forcefully, my back hitting the brick wall of the house with a thud. He glared down at me, his patience clearly at its breaking point. "I feel like I'm constantly babysitting a child. Next time I catch you doing something like this, I'll have a nice cold bullet waiting for you. Got it? I don't care if you're a woman or not, I will not let you bring us both down. The dead tell no tales, got me?" He didn't wait for my reply, turning sharply and marching away down the sidewalk, disappearing into the shadows.

He left me alone, leaning against the cool brick, the smirk still playing on my lips. "What a gentleman... Doesn't he know sometimes you need to be crazy to get the job done? And I fully intend on getting it done," I whispered, wiping the smear of crimson blood from the corner of my lip with the back of my hand before strolling down the sidewalk into the night.

(Mia note- Oh no! Who could these people be I wonder the plot thickens lol)