|| Second Book! Can not be read as a stand-alone || Read The Secrets Of Finnley first!
"Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire."
After getting in a lot of trouble, Cristian tried to pick up his carefree life again. He focusses on...
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- Friday, November 10th -
"You're up." Finnley frowns as soon as he notices me entering the kitchen, where he's currently seated with a book. Off course he's reading a book. Although I haven't seen him reading a book in ages. At least, not a book that's not for school.
"I'm feeling surprisingly good." I admit with a shrug. I'm still a tad bit drowsy because of the meds, my head is heavier and by now I know I have a black eye, my nose is swollen and there's a nasty looking cut at my lip. I don't look great, I'll have to admit that.
"No headache?" Finnley's still frowning a bit.
"Painkillers are my best friends right now." I place the bottle with pills on the table opposite from where he's seated. "Are you mad?"
"No." He shakes his head to put some power behind the word.
"Then why didn't you sleep in my bed, or my room for that matter? You seemed pretty upset with me last night."
"Charlie and... Sydney... helped you. He clears his throat awkwardly. "Your parents picked you up at... my parents... home." He's seemingly having trouble speaking Sydney's name out loud, or to call his parents... his parents.
I nod, taking a seat across from him.
"You saw Sydney."
"I did, very briefly. Charlie wanted to speak with me alone."
Finnley swallows, breaking eye contact, watching towards his book.
"Why?"
"What did eh... You know... Did Charlie say anything... about me?"
Is he fishing for something? Does he know what Charlie told me? If he does, or has a hunch, does that mean Charlie spoke the truth? Finnley is acting weird right now.
"I'm a bit fuzzy in my head, if you want to know something, you'll have to ask a clear question."
Finnley clears his throat, shuffling in his seat, acting uncomfortable. "What did he want to talk about?"
"You, and what happened." I admit, scratching the back of my head. "I might have called Sydney out on abusing you..."
"He called me a liar, didn't he?"
"Not with the exact word... but yeah, he said it's a lie."
"Do you believe them?"
"No. I believe you, I don't really know why, but I do."
Finnley snaps his head back up, staring at me in disbelieve. "You believe me?"
"Yeah. I trust you to tell me the truth. It is the truth, right?"
"I really wish it wasn't..." he mumbles before he sighs deeply. "And for a very long time I didn't really think about it. I was only seven and I sort of managed to forget most details. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?" How can he talk about it so... void of any emotion? I clearly remember the tears he shed when he first told me in that car. Whenever that was. Or the tears that came instantly when I told him I still remembered that he told me, only yesterday. Yet here he is in front of me. Talking about it, like he's sharing todays weather forecast with me; like it's not a big deal.
