Chapter 9
Elizabeth’s POV:
Pulling up at the house, I’m relieved to see that there’s no car in the driveway. He’s not home.
But he could be soon so we have to hurry. When I pull the helmet off some of my black hair falls in my face. I hate my black hair, it used to be blond, a rich, healthy, completely natural blond, but blond shows blood, which doesn’t go over well. So I changed it to a deathly black. I always thought it looked wrong on me.
Getting off the bike I stare at the front of the two story house, deciding the best way to do this. I hadn’t planned on sneaking back in, and it isn’t going to be easy with someone who doesn’t know they have to be sneaky.
Kent walks up next to me, looks at my concentrating stare, then at the house to find what I’m staring at, and when he doesn’t find it he looks back at me. I see all of this from the corner of my right eye.
“What are you staring at?”
Cue the deadpan expression, “I’m staring at Shakespeare who miraculously came back to life. What else would I be staring at, weirdo?” He is so stupid sometimes!
“Why are you just staring at your house?”
“Because I feel like it.”
“Well can we go in now?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“I don’t like that reason, it’s not fair.” He did a pout/glare thing, that probably would’ve made me melt if I hadn’t only seen it from the corner of my eye.
“Life isn’t fair. I would know that better than anyone.” I muttered the last part under my breath, but of course he heard me.
“What was that? How would you-“
I wouldn’t get anywhere with his constant pestering. My best bet would probably be: get in, get out.
“Don’t touch a thing! He’ll be furious! Got it?” I stared at him warily. He probably won’t listen, but it’s worth a shot.
He just rolled his eyes, completely dismissing me. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s just go.”
I sighed, knowing this could end badly for me. Kneeling down I pulled out my lucky lock-picking bobby pin from the inside of my sock. Charlotte had gotten me past a lot of tough locks.
“Why are you picking the lock?”
“Why do you keep asking stupid questions?”
“My questions AREN’T stupid!”
“Tell yourself what you like, but it doesn’t change the facts.”
“Just answer my question Lizzy.”
“Which one?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean which question should I answer. Wait, scratch that, doors open, let’s go.”
I led him quickly through the entry way. The stairs were right next to the door so we didn’t have to walk near the living room, but I saw Kent wrinkle his nose anyways. I didn’t like the smell either. The smell of my blood still hung in the air, along with the smell of his beers.
“What’s that smell?”
“Beer, he’s an…..let’s say avid drinker.”
“A lawyer that drinks? That’s kind of weird.”
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Handcuffs or Jail?
Teen FictionLife sucks. It's just that simple. Her family is dead. She's been tortured her entire life- physically and mentally. And now, she's forced with the choice of being either be handcuffed to the guy she was arrested for arguing with, to 'work out thei...
