Iris's POV
I shoved past Jeff and blindly ran through the woods to a place I shared many happy memories, my old house. The house has been derelict since I left and there has even been talks to knock it down.
Sitting in the living room, I stared at my reflection in steel knife, it really surprising how quickly someone's love for someone can turn into hatred. Slowly I felt the inevitable tears coat my cheeks and the choked sobs echo around the empty rooms.
The sound if heavy footfall broke through my grieving, I looked over my shoulder to see Hoody leaning against the pine bookshelf which was covered in a layer of dust like everything else here, he didn't have his mask on or his hood, without his mask he had a beautiful face "I really need to tell you something, Iris." he said horsley " During the past year my feelings for you have grown to more than a friend but I have tried to ignore them for Jeff, my feelings for you are way stronger then the ones I had for Ruby." he sat next to me on the floor "I love you more than Jeff ever will, Iris." Hoody finished, then leaned forward and kissed me full on. Maybe I wanted to get back at Jeff or I actually had feelings for Hoody but I kissed him back as hard as I could before he pulled me down.
..........................
I rubbed the sleep dust out my eyes and looked to the side of me expecting to see Jeff but I saw Hoody instead and we were both naked, the events of last night night flittered through my mind, I remember the floor at my old house and the sofa here and my bed... Oh God, then I remember why.
I heard the door open and slam shut "HOODY?" I heard Jeff yell, he pretended to be asleep and I also squeezed my eyes shut "I have been looking for Iris all night and haven't found her, did you have any luck?" he continued, so whilst Jeff has been looking for me, I have slept with his best friend 3 times! Just crap-tastic.
I swallowed loudly as I heard the bedroom door fly open, then the heart-breaking scream that followed afterwards- the scream full of sorrow and anguish.
