The Bad Girl's Good Side

Chapter 20: That's Strange

Chapter 20:
That's strange

Since Colton has left me alone in the passage I decide to explore the house, seeing as there's nothing else to do anyway. I start walking in a direction that's only known to the one above and I find myself staring at three doors - one on the left and two on the right.

I wonder how many rooms are there upstairs of there's already three downstairs...

"Let's go in here first," I whisper to myself and twist the door knob of the first door on the right.

The room is eerily dark as if the light has been prohibited from entering. Although, there are thin streaks of sunlight seeping through the tiny curtain pores of the navy curtain covering the only window at the end of the room. There isn't much in this room, just a few boxes lying randomly on the ground in stacks and singley, and a few papers lying around.

Me being in the mood to snoop around due to my inquisitive self, I tread further into the room to take a better look at my surroundings. In the far left corner of the room, right next the window, there is a collage of photos and sticky notes pinned onto the wall, with a red web of string connecting each picture to another—exactly like they do in the movies.

That's strange.

My prying self takes a few steps further to take a better look at the pictures and I gasp as my eye lands on one name in particular after scanning the images and sticky notes.

Luther.

His name and pictures are plastered all over. He was caught being in different locations ever since his escape from prison. A month ago he was seen at a gas station wearing a white cap and grey overalls in Louisiana—always the gas stations—and about two and a half weeks ago, he was seen just a few miles out of the state, with some woman who looks oddly familiar.

Tristan has been keeping track of Luther.

For some odd reason, this makes my blood boil with fury. I do not know exactly why I feel agitated but I hate how Tristan never bothered to tell me that he is hunting down my enemy. I hate how he never thought of actually involving me somehow in the investigation. I hate how he never even contacted me when he left and hate how he'll never tell me the—

"What are you doing in here?"

Speak of the devil and he'll appear.

"When did you start with all of this?" I ask with a nonchalant tone without even turning back to look at who it is because I recognize his voice way too much.

"You shouldn't be in here," he growls and the sound of his steps tells me that he is slowly approaching me.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I ignore his statement.

"You weren't supposed to find out," his voice is dangerously close behind me and I can almost feel his heavy breaths fanning my exposed neck.

"How long were you going to hide thid from me, Tristan?" I ignore his trivial statement once again.

"Leave," he spits out bitterly.

He's stern, cold voice takes me aback and I almost shiver at the lack of emotion. I turn to face him, but I instantly regret it because the proximity between us is less than I thought. His face is but a few inches from mine and I can smell his intoxicating cologne from where I stand. I bravely tilt my head up to stare at him dead in the eye and I frown when I notice just how dark his eyes have become. They are no longer the hazel crystals I'm used to and fell in love with, but have now become so void of any reflection of light that a cold shiver runs down my spine. I'm just going to blame it on the lighting of the room just to make myself feel better.