Falling

Part 11

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Here is the next part, hope you like it :)  

Paige.XOXO

11.  

The house was quiet. Rose's absence cast an eerie silence over the whole house. She was probably out with Michael and mum was at work so I was on my own. For the first time in ages, I had the house completely to myself. Finally, I had time to think and I had a lot to think about. Thanks to Matt's rescue earlier, my embarrassment was minimal and by next week I was sure that everybody would have forgotten the whole thing. If Matt had his way, Saffron would already be plotting ways to eliminate her threat, me. But, thankfully, she was in the dark about everything. That just left one thing to think about. One complex, cryptic, confusing, mysterious thing, Matt. Everything about him had question marks attached at the end. Family? Friends? Interest in me? Why he looks familiar? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I knew nothing about him. I hadn't the faintest idea of who he was. For all I knew he could be a stalker or a psycho that had escaped from a mental asylum or a murderer.  

At first my theory seemed completely absurd. As if Matt was a murderer. But as I started to ask questions, it all started to make sense. Matt was the Barbie killer. Oh seriously they need to think of a better name. The killings started as soon as he came to town. He fitted the eye witness statement. The first two characteristics could be anybody. Male with a broad figure and big muscles, these details were a bit too sketchy for me to accuse Matt of being a serial killer. However there was one distinctive description hair so blond it was almost white, it was him, it had to be. That would explain why he was so interested in me too; I was exactly the type of girl that the killer targeted.  

I knew better than to accuse him without any real proof. So I went to the only source I had, my computer. I never thought that I would be so desperate to find out about someone that I would have to Google them but I needed to know and I hoped that the wonder of the internet could tell me. I typed in 'Mathew Azariah' and reluctantly pressed enter.  

The results were definitely not what I had expected. I clicked on several pages and they all said basically the same thing. Maria Valtorta was an Italian, bed-ridden writer. She was an extremely religious woman and is the author of 'The Book of Mormon'. The book is about Maria's guardian angel, Azariah. It describes her meetings with the angel and what he teaches her, however, does not describe Azariah directly. It is believed that Azariah had no resemblance of the stereotypical image of an angel but in fact looked like an average man. I looked through lots of web pages but none of them were about Matt, they were all about Angels. I wasn't sure what to make of this information. When I type in my name in Google, pages about different people come up - Mostly pages of Cheryl Cole. I can't tell you the amount of people that have asked me if were were related- but there is still some information about me but with him there was nothing, like he didn't exist.  

Something was wrong, totally, completely, wrong. Matt was weird, secretive and there was no doubt that he was hiding something. But a murderer? There was no way. I was well aware that my feelings for him were clouding my judgement (I admit that I was slightly bias) but I honestly couldn't picture him being a murder. He was a liar, a player, a total mystery but not a murderer. Even though all of the facts pointed to him, even though all of the pieces fit, even though everything made sense, I refused to believe it. Something was wrong, I knew that much and I was going to find out what. I just hoped that my instincts were right because otherwise I was about to go and get close to a serial killer.

I was snuggled up on the sofa with a blanket and a warm cup of hot chocolate when Rose finally decided to come home. Mum had come straight home from work, gone upstairs and collapsed on her bed. That slave-driver of a boss of hers was not only ripping her away from her family so that she could jet off to America but before he did he was making her so exhausted at work that when she got home she would crash. It was as if he didn't want her to spend time with us. Anyway, that meant that I had spent the last few hours on my own. I couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, I had time to think about things and sort my head out. But, on the other, this thinking had made me think that Matt was a serial killer.