The Boy in the Black Hoodie

Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Carson's POV

Paul growled at me, his eyes burning with hatred. Why? I still didn't know. Because he just had wake up right as Vanessa was about to tell me. Speaking of Vanessa, I looked beside me. She was grasping tightly onto my shoulder, her knuckles white.

"It's okay," I whispered to her, low enough so Paul couldn't hear me.

She nodded, a lone tear trickling down her face.

"Don't get hurt, Carson. Please don't get hurt."

I smiled reassuringly at her, "I won't. I promise."

I took one last look her way before standing up. I brushed myself off, then went to stand in front of Paul. His nostrils flared as I neared, and his hands began trembling. I looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"What is your problem, boy?" he asked ferociously.

"I think you've got it mixed up a bit. You're the one with the problems here."

Paul's fist flew forward, but I caught it before it could smash into my chest. I sighed, gripping his hand tightly.

"I'm not going to do this again," I said forcefully, twisting his arm a little. He groaned, and I slowly relaxed my grip.

"We are going to work this out with words," I said slowly.

Paul began to protest. I twisted his arm again.

"So, do we have a truce?"

Reluctantly, he nodded in defeat. I released his hand, but kept my guard up. Paul could never be trusted.

Slowly, I walked back over to where Vanessa was sitting, mouth open in awe. I smiled at her.

"See. I told you I wouldn't get hurt."

I sat down beside her, gesturing for Paul to come over. He narrowed his eyes, but obeyed nonetheless. I nodded to myself. So far so good.

"So," I said once we were all situated. "Who's up for a game of twenty million questions?"

Paul scowled, and Vanessa smiled slightly.

"Alright, perfect," I grinned, pointing to Paul. "Why don't you start? Ask a question."

He growled, "Fine, then. How the heck can you suddenly do all these insane things?"

I smirked, "I've always been able to do them. But my fear was much greater than my desire to show you what I could actually do."

"What do you mean?"

I chuckled softly, "I was scared of what you would do to me if you ever found out. So, naturally, I never showed anyone. Honestly, though, how did you expect me to carry out your so called "tasks" without having some sort of way to defend myself?"

Paul didn't reply. I took that as a sign to move on.

"Okay, my turn," I said, turning to Vanessa. "What's on your shoulder? You know, that spot you always rub."

Van smiled, the light reaching up into her eyes. Slowly, she pulled up the back of her shirt. There was a tattoo there, just as I had thought. But what the tattoo was, now that I hadn't been expecting. Right in front of me, imprinted on Vanessa's skin in big, graceful cursive was my name. My name.

There was a little heart beside it. Van touched the spot softly, her fingers grazing over the letters.

"Carson," she mumbled. "Your name, sweetheart. That's what I have on my shoulder."