Hide and Seek: Can You Find Me? [EDITING]

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

My mom was apparently a well-known serial killer throughout her youth. She spent most of her time sneaking between the small, dumpster allies. But unlike the others, she was famous for her ability to avoid the cops, law and jail. Somehow, she managed to flee from every investigation and never for once she felt what it's like to be behind the bars. Even when all the evidences point out to her, she never get caught.

Nobody knew how she did it all, not until now.

After a few minutes of silence, the atmosphere was still tensing, but I demanded for an explanation. "What exactly did you just do?" I led her to give out the information I needed.

She didn't answer right away, her eyes were still trailing up and down my room, figuring out what else to pack. I waited and waited and waited, until I began to grow impatient. My heel clicked repeatedly to the granite under my feet while my index was tapping in rhyme.

One..

Two..

Three..

"I swear to God if y-"

"I killed, didn't you hear what I said?" She hissed in anger, with her head suddenly turned to face me. Her eyes were squinted as an exclamation, but that wasn't the answer I was looking for.

"I said exactly," I hissed back. The tension between eyes of ours could be seen in a physical form, I swear. I could feel the heat and I smell burns. Both our ears redden, and so did our eyes - pierced in one another's and won't let go. Dell was sitting on the edge of my bed, didn't dare to say a word. She knew exactly what will happen if she did.

Mom, in the end, was the one to broke the eye contact. "Mr. Launder, gone."

"Gone, you mean.."

"Dead," she stood up straight, finished with her packing. "I killed him, we need to move away."

Mr. Launder, the grumpy old man on the fifth floor, had been my mom's foe since the first day we were here. We met him accidentaly when grabbing some coffee, and he was acting like a complete jerk. At the age of thirty, he was nearly homeless if his sister didn't offer him to stay at her lush apartment. Despite having no cash, Mr. Launder acted like he's in charge of the whole apartment. Even I sometimes wanted to break his head to half, wanted. But I wasn't crazy enough - as my mom - to actually do it.

"Is this what you did in your past, running away?" My eyes followed every step she took, every move she made. I will never let her get off my sight.

She walked awkwardly, knowing that my sight were staked on her. Her body was drenched in sweat, but I didn't care. I refused to go anymore further with her plan, I refused to do what she ordered me to, I refused to be her errand runner, all until I know what kind of nasty business am I involved in.

"Go clean yourself, we're taking off in 3 hours," her voice was dull and full of sorrow. Did she feel guilty? Or most importantly, did I just make her feel guilty?

Whatever it was, this time I didn't argue, as I saw tears pooling on her bottom eyelid. Instead, I turned back and walked straight to the washroom. As I walked away, I could hear sobs coming from her, even when she tried her best to hide it between the rumbles her boxes made. She was crying.

The walk to the washroom was the longest ever, though it was only four doors away from my room. I dragged my weakened feet hesitantly down the aisle while my hand was glued to the wall for support. My thoughts just weren't there anymore.