Chameleon

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The thrill of the catch, what's good for the goose, what goes around comes around. Those are all sayings you use to describe a situation. Sayings people throw around when they're angry maybe, or even when something is just so intense, it's a mystery where they came from, or who the first person was that ever let those words leave there lips.

Sometimes we didn't mean the words we said. We called those regrets. Other times we meant every word those we simply called communication. Other times we wished we said something, and this is what we called guilt.

The phone rang in the middle of the night once again this time I ignored it pulling the covers over my head. Evan stayed sleeping oblivious to the world. That didn't last long when his cell phone vibrated landing on his head. He groaned whipping his covers off him and me fumbling for the talk button on his phone.

"I'm on my way." He said sleepily.

"Where you going?" I asked wide awake at this point. Evan being called and running off this late for work was very unusual. Everyone thinks death creeps in at night I didn't think that anymore. It seemed to happen during the day more than anything did.

"Some job perfect opportunity or something." He said barely awake as he buttoned up his shirt staring at me with tired eyes.

"Well how long do you think you will be?" I asked hoping it wouldn't be days before I seen him again.

"I'm not sure depends on how fast I get near him." He said with a shrug. He kissed my forehead heading out into the night.

I pulled the covers close thinking in all the time Evan and I had been together his murderous ways we never talked in detail about. I didn't want to bring it up and he didn't want to discuss it. Sometimes I was curious but I knew the jist of it. I didn't need to be that annoying girl who asks 'how was your day?' each time he came home. The thought that he may have shot a man in the face, or took a hard working father from their family, maybe set up a women to die right before being married it was morbid, and I didn't like to think of him in that way.

I wondered how often these victims begged for their lives, and how often Evan wished he could grant their wishes as he did with me. I wondered how many of them saw Evan before they died, or how he approached each situation. Had he ever walked through the woods before and stumbled upon another young girl? Did he really drown her in the woods or did he manipulate it to look like a drowning? I wondered how comfortable he became with ending lives, would he be hands on or did he like to use the surroundings? I didn't think I would ever ask Evan those sorts of questions. I didn't want my opinion of him to be tainted. I knew I would love him no matter what, I just feared it would put a bad taste in my mouth.

My sleep was short lived I woke up to a presence in my room; it was one of those moments where you know when someone is near. I sighed wondering if Kenny was that stupid to just come walking in my house as late as it was.

"Kenny?" I called out trying to focus in on the shadowy figure that stepped forward the instant I spoke.

"Hey." He whispered.

"What's going on?" I asked sitting up even more alarmed.

"Nothing." He called out; I stayed still trying to rack my brains for an explanation of Kenny showing up when Evan was gone. I had none.

"You want to go for a ride?" He asked a little louder this time.

"Uh no, I'm trying to sleep. Come back tomorrow." I said fluffing my pillow and resting my head thinking he received the hint and left.

Scattered and Broken, Book 3 of Wingless SeriesOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora