Fatal Vows

Chapter 9

Ten.
   

 The number bounces around my aching head.  Ten people dead.  Murdered.

    I stare at the white ceiling, wishing sleep would take me away from this nightmare.  My mind plays each murder on repeat, unable to stop.  Blood splatters across my vision.

    I don't move when I hear a knock on the door.  The couch across the room squeaks as my mom steps to the door.  It opens with a loud click.

    "Daylon!" mom says.  I turn my head towards the door, catching a glimpse of his blonde hair.  My stomach flips, unsure if I want to talk.  My mom mutters a few words to him before stepping aside to let him in.

    "I'm going to go downstairs to get some lunch with Kelly.  See you later, Elena."  Mom smiles before she shuts the door, leaving me and Daylon in the dim room.  I look at the ceiling again.

    I hear him sit down on the couch slowly.  He takes in a breath and sighs softly.  Silence envelopes the room.

    Knowing he'll want to talk, I force myself to sit up.  I prop my back on the pillows and fold my hands on my lap.

    "Hey," he says softly, his eyes warm.

    I smile, grateful for his consideration.  "Salutations."

    He laughs quietly, "Well, now I know you're okay."

    I chuckle, thankful our friendship hasn't changed since yesterday's antics.  Hopefully.

    "Actually though," he says, resting his elbows on his knees, "are you alright?"

    I shrug, "Nothing I can't handle."

    He smiles, "Trust me, I know."

    We sit in silence for a few moments before I decide to speak up.

    "Hey, about yesterday, I'm sorry."  I feel my face turn red, "I don't know what came over me, probably heatstroke."

    He just grins.  "Hey, it's okay.  Really," he says looking me earnestly in the eyes.

    I look away, unable to hold his stare.  I gaze at the embroidered comforter, rumpled from where I had rested.

    "Sorry I couldn't clue search with you and Ryder," he says, "Did you find anything interesting?"

    "Yeah," I respond, relieved with the topic change.  "There was a bloody heel print behind one of the curtains near the pillar we hung out at that night," I explain.  "The cleaners must've missed it during their rounds, I suppose."

    He rubs his chin in thought, "And the blood was dry?"

    "Yeah.  I think it was from a woman's heel judging by how pointed the tip was."  I want to tell him about the man in black, but my nerves tell me otherwise.  I purse my lips.

    He nods, "Anything else?"

    I shake my head, "The police spotted us before we could explore anymore."

    He nods again.  I notice a decent sized bruise on his neck, a fairly recent one by the look of it.

    "Hey, what happened here?" I ask, pointing to my own neck.

    He rubs it, pressing it gently, "Huh, wonder where that came from."  He shrugs before dropping his hand.  I understand those bruises you get out of nowhere or forget where you got them, but that doesn't even look close to anything like that.  I decide to drop the topic.