Scarlet Harlots (Editing Now)

Chapter 24- Pinky Twitch

SO this is all in Jared's POV, ya, you're welcome :) Jk, I just hope you like it!

I just realized that Chase has now had two last names, and that's because I'm a derp and was still testing out which last name I liked better, and I prefered Hardy, Chase Hardy seemed more fitting, so I will fix that later!  Wait, now it should be all fixed.

Jared

I don’t know why I was up at this time of hour, or why I was driving at all, why I was secretly following a beat up car in the middle of the night, or why I wanted to.  I just knew one thing- Chase deserved for someone to, at least care, not the starker part of someone following her, but the innocent intention side… Ugh! I about hit my head on the wheel, but stopped myself, knowing I needed to look where I was going, I was being a stalker, this was ridiculous, more than ridiculous, this was insane.  I could, should go to jail for such insanity, yet with that being said, I couldn’t get myself to turn around and drive back.  I knew she was a big girl, could handle being by herself, and didn’t need me for protection, I knew she didn’t want me to go wherever she was going as she had told no one where she was going, therefore made it obvious she didn’t want anyone to know she was going anywhere, and I knew that she would be creeped out if she knew anyone was following her.

About 20 minutes later of putting my music on and practicing my lines for the next few songs, watching her car, strictly as a navigation piece, and not about the person who was inside at all, because this wasn’t about her, or so I made myself thing, but honestly, who was I kidding? 

She ended pulling up into a cemetery and got out of her car.  I shook uncomfortably, and decided to stay in the car in the huge parking lot listening and practicing while she paid her respects to her dad.  But all I could think about was what if she was cold?, why in the heck she would visit this late at night, and why she buried him in England while she lived in America, what was taking her so long, and how she snuck off without anyone knowing each time.

Jolie was so selfish, if she bought a goldfish and it received a morsel of attention, I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed it the next day on ‘accident’.  I doubt if Jolie wondered where Chase was ever.

Chase needed a better friend than that, she deserved so much more.  I would deny this if it was ever found out, but since our argument I haven’t let her out of my sight, but on some very rare moments. She pissed me off so much, but she was also so closed off, I couldn't help but be intrigued, who was Chase exactly?  This girl who flirts with guys and is in a band by day, and goes to cemeteries, and hospitals by night?  Oh, and don’t let me get started on the time I found her passed out halfway in her car because she was on some strange high.

She may have had a reason, but her arse was high in the air, her body halfway outside!  Who falls asleep like that?

This, by itself made me think for 10 or so minutes, and after half an hour I wondered if Chase was okay, she hadn’t come back to her car yet, but driving out 20 minutes to only spend 30 minutes seemed a bit of a waste, and so I wondered if she wanted to stay longer with her dad, and settled back in my seat.  10 minutes after that though, I became curious and got out of my jeep.  I walked cautiously to the grave I had watched her dad get buried, I walked to the grave I had once watched as the preacher looked around her confused when she was the only one that showed up anger surged through me that no one seemed to care that Chase was dealing with all of this alone.

But I couldn’t bring myself to go to her, as much as I wanted to, I felt something holding me back.

Just like now.

I creep up on her dad’s gravestone, because let’s face it, Jared, lead singer of the Red Society is stalking/creeping on a chick.  When my eyes fully adjust I have a mini heart attack, not seeing anyone standing around by the grave stone, until I look down and see a lying body beside the grave stone, petting the newly shifted dirt with her hands, not crying, not moaning, but lying there, just as hurt as I had seen her the day he was burried.