The Retribution

Chapter 9

~ Kaden ~

My feet automatically landed me to the bus stop near Eleanor's street. If there was one person I feel like I could trust most in the moment, it would be Eleanor.

My mind digressed while on the trip so I forgot to tell her in advance that I would be visiting.

Hoping that she was at home, I knocked on her door. Fortunately, she was there- probably cleaning up. I noticed she wore an overall.

"What is it this time?" she asked impatiently.

I shook my head and entered her apartment.

She clicked the door shut as I sat on the couch. She asked, "For how long exactly am I going to talk to myself? Because I'm really not in the mood for a monologue."

"Let me breathe, first." I demanded.

She tossed me a bottle of water from the fridge and sat on the stool near the bunk bed.

I finished the content in no time. It was then that I realized, I was very thirsty. I've never gotten anything to drink from the Barnes' home.

"Is that something important?" Eleanor asked.

"Very," I affirmed. She motioned me to go on and so I did. I told her everything that happened earlier and she listened intently.

"First of all, I didn't know that Giorga ever goes to church," she chuckled. "God bless her sickly soul for making the church service a fashion event."

"If you were there, you'd make it look like a funeral," I joked.

To my relief, Eleanor's apartment and her presence made me calm down at least.

"So, back to the topic," Eleanor said with a sniff. "I didn't know that Nathalie detested Iona."

I sighed, still in disbelief. "I guess, only the diary knows."

My mind was still in disarray. Maybe Nathalie just needed more attention. Maybe she had it and just didn't acknowledge it. Maybe she was just blinded by jealousy.

"You said the last entry was made on the day before Cushy's end?" Eleanor clarified, bringing my mind back to the conversation. I answered her with a hum. "Then, have you noticed anything odd from Nathalie that night? If she'd done it to Cushy then, she could do it to Iona."

She rubbed her arms then added, "Heaven forbid."

I stared at her blankly, finding courage to finally spill the beans. "I guess, I did."

She blinked, tongue-tied for a moment. "What was it?" she asked.

"I noticed a scratch on her arm. She told me it was due to a nail sticking out in their garage," I said anxiously. The thought of Nathalie strangling a cat to death and hanging it by a tree made me shudder.