Surrender

Chapter Thirty Eight

Bonjour mon amies! I hope you're all doing absolutely wonderful. I'm sorry for taking so long to update, I've been on vacation in California and I saw the boys!! ahhhh, but here is Chapter 38!!! *non-existent crowd cheers* And we only have 3 chapters left and I am heart broken!! So enjoy this chapter and I love you all to death!!!

COMMENT and VOTE!!

-Whitney (:

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

I've never been much of a smoker, but for some reason whenever there is a crisis I find myself thinking, "I need a cigarette" as if the act of inhaling a cancerous chemical will make everything else seem like less of a disaster. I close my hands around the carton of cigarettes and stare up at the cloudy sky, knowing that wherever Peter is, he can see me, that he is watching and always has been. He's been in control form the beginning and we've been pawns on his chessboard. I look over at the moving truck sitting in the driveway like a screaming reminder that tomorrow is where everything I love ends and everything I'm fighting begins. There's a part of me that wonders if Peter thinks I'm leaving this place behind or if I'm staying to face my demons. I'm the only thing linking him to Darcie so either way he'll do his best to find me wherever I go. I pull out my phone and look at the text message again,

"I'm watching..." It says, the two words burning themselves into the back of my eyelids. I could freak out and scream and cry like the broken person I am, or I could smoke one cigarette and wait for Peter to come out of his hiding place and face me. Honestly neither of those options sound good to me, but there really isn't an in between so I'm going to sit out here until I pick one. If Peter has in fact been watching then he could be watching me now, his eyes roaming over my body, deciding which part of me to break and beat down until he's gotten his revenge for the lie I told him regarding Darcie. Peter always seemed normal, almost perfect and then I blinked and he turned into an obsessive, unpredictable, mentally sick question mark. He isn't well, he's dangerous and I don't want him anywhere near Harry or Louis. Thank God my Mom and Cal have already left for Boston, if they were still here who knows what Peter would have done to them to get to me.

My eyes wander over to the car sitting a few houses down. It's a different make than the one I saw last week driving up the street, which means that this car isn't Peter's, but the one I saw before was. I look up into the trees across the street and take a cigarette from the carton. I put it between my lips and cradle the tip and the lighter in my hands and light it, taking a long, searing drag before the smoke burns my lungs and I cough out the rest of the smoke I just inhaled. My eyes start to water and my nose and throat begin to burn, and I take another drag, pushing through the swirling nausea I'm feeling. A few more coughing fits and 3 more drags later, my body is starting to warm up to the taste and feel of the smoke in my body. I lean back against the porch steps and try to let the supposed comforting feeling of smoking wash over me. I hear my phone buzzing against the wood of the porch and I look down at it, the screen lighting up with a number I don't recognize. I drop the cigarette on the concrete and snuff it out with my toe, my stomach turning violently as I pick up the phone and answer it.

"Hello?" I ask in a raspy voice, although I'm not sure if it's from the smoke or my nerves.

"Rae?" A familiar voice says.

"Beck?" I say, rubbing my forehead, relieved that it isn't Peter. What is he doing up this early? My eye throbs a little at the memory of his fist connecting with my face.

"I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, but could you...could you possibly come over? I need to talk to you." He's wrong, the last person I want to hear from is probably watching me from the trees, so really he's the second to last person I want to be talking to. I stand and start to pace on the sidewalk, my stomach still turning.