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Part Nineteen

"Sam," Skip whispered. He waited, yet nothing happened. "Hey, Sam."

Still nothing. He reached a hand over to give a cautious tap, but the second his pressed a gentle finger to Sam's side, the purring in the room rang out for the whole house to hear. Out of whatever instinct deep within, Skip traced his finger down to Sam's tail, finally getting the appeal of Elijah's fascination with the soft extra appendage. It was like his purring was a reward for a job well done, and Skip smiled at the thought. Sam looked incredibly at peace in his sleep.

Skip decided he would leave him alone.

Someone so patient, so innocent, so good, and Skip wanted to ruin that for him like he did everything else. No, he would leave Sam alone and go on his own, if not to get revenge on Sam's behalf, then to protect his innocence in the future. It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong, anyways. He would go through with teaching Jamie a lesson, and then come right back to tell Sam every detail.

Easy. Simple. And Sam would purr to reward him after all was said and done.

With one last fond look at his friend, Skip wondered when he had gotten so protective over him. Maybe it was from the start, when the late night conversations over the phone allowed Skip to open up about who Zeke was, and Sam listened to every word as if it mattered. Maybe it was ever since he found out about Sam and the fragility that came with his size, because the first thought that ran through his head when he saw a crying boy attached to a string in the kitchen was not 'what is that?', but 'is he okay?'. Maybe it was the first moment he held Sam in his own hands and watched as he fell asleep against his chest. Nobody had done that before. Nobody trusted Skip enough to find a safe place near him, and nobody looked past his outward appearance from the moment he was born. Sam was too good a person to be friends with the likes of Skip, the 'big brother', as he described him.

Skip rarely smiled, but when he looked down at the little person that his finger had just retreated from, his grin was too genuine to hide.
He would go on his own.

~~~~
True to his own prediction, it took a thirty minute drive in the beat-up truck for Skip to find a rusted, milky White House on the inside of a cul de sac. The sun had just lifted enough to break through the trees on the horizon behind the houses, alerting every bird in the nearby area to start singing for anyone looking to wake up way too early.

Skip pulled into an empty driveway and turned off his GPS, taking in a precious gulp of air, and turning his head to the side of the headrest to watch the front door only a few feet away.

Getting inside without a key wouldn't be an issue; growing up to defile your parents led to Skip being able to do a few things outside the law, and breaking and entering was something he used to do to abandoned warehouses anytime he needed an escape. He had a hairpin in his glove compartment for that exact reason, still left over from his days of sophomore year.

If he was going to do anything, he might as well get it over with and make it back to Sam as quickly as possible. He might even make it back before Sam had the opportunity to wake up, and then grant him a good story that Sam would praise him for. Skip turned off the engine at the thought.

He hopped out of his truck, stomping towards the front door but being careful to slow down his steps the minute he got close enough for anyone inside to hear.

Skip picked the lock like it was the easiest thing in the world. The only thing on his mind was getting back to Sam, but he needed to bring good news when he finally drove back. Besides, he made it this far, he might as well go through with it and carry out his plan of action for Sam's sake.

So he pried the door open and took a step inside.
A cross on the wall in front of him fueled every new footstep, allowing Skip to tiptoe through the quiet household in search of any source of evidence that a teenage boy lived here. He checked the kitchen first, the den, and then an empty bedroom with a king sized bed and no decorations around it. Everything was bland, from the bed sheets to the curtains, leaving Skip with the assumption that this was the parents room. He didn't have any quarrels with Jamie's parents, aside from giving birth fifteen years ago.

Another bedroom came into view, this one with the door closed. Sunlight peeked through the windows of the hallway, bouncing off the white door and highlighting it with a sign for Skip to go ahead with whatever he was about to do next. He took a deep breath, a step forward, and turned the knob to bring himself into the room before him.

Nobody was inside.

It was obvious a teenage boy lived here, although weird in a few aspects. A periodic table lay above the bed, and charts of scientific posters spread through the walls as if it were a classroom. The desk stood at the end of the room, littered with a mess of worksheets and pens in every color. It was clear to Skip that Jamie had no sense of organization; even the bed was a mess of covers and pillows at every edge.

Skip continued looking around for proof of Jamie anywhere he could find it. When he reached a closer look at the desk and stole a glance at the name atop every worksheet, he found his answer. This was the Jamie Foster he was looking for, the one that killed Sam's parents and the one that he was here to teach a lesson to.

A cluttered sound rang out through the room, and Skip's boot caught on something on the ground at the exact same time, forcing him to whip around in an anxious spurt to see what it was.

Just a box of crackers on the floor. Nothing to worry about, but when he listened in the dead silence, he could barely detect a small scratching inside the box. A mouse, maybe, but the minute Skip grabbed the box to inspect it, his phone blared out and forced him to drop it on the desk with a small thud in surprise.

Skip thrusted his phone out, looking at the caller ID and immediately declining it the moment he saw the name.

Elijah was calling him. True, Eli was an early bird, and he might've just woken up to find Skip missing in the house. If anything, Eli most likely figured Skip went back to McDonald's for a coffee, and there was nothing to worry about. Leo and Sam wouldn't be up for hours, anyways.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, immediately forgetting about the box on the desk, and moving on to the collection of trophies along the dresser to his left. From what he could gather, Jamie seemed smart. He had countless awards from scientific competitions and debates, all stacking up against each other to prove that the owner of this room was a nerd, if nothing else. Skip scoffed at the thought, until his phone rang out again.

Skip decided to ignore it this time, not being able to see that the caller ID read Leo's name.

The more he toured the bedroom, the more anxious he began to feel. As if Skip's subconscious was telling him to get out before he did something he might regret, he wrung his fingers and sat on the edge of the messy bed to figure out what to do next. The box of Crackers lay atop the desk, unmoving, no sound producing anymore. Skip figured he must've scared the mouse If there was any to begin with, and continued scanning the room with a blank stare. There was no point in coming here if Jamie didn't even show up, but he wasn't going to give up so easily.

Skip sat on that bed for no more than five minutes before his eyes picked up more scratching, this time near the walls. Movement was going on inside If he was quiet enough to hear it, and he stayed silent to listen in.

Skip heard a voice. He swore on his life he heard a voice from inside the walls.

Though, the minute he got up to inspect his suspicions, the door to the bedroom cracked open, and a single
"Who are you?"

Broke through the air on impact.
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A/N: Early Update, because I couldn't wait any longer to share a little bit of Skip's thought process. He is the worst and I love him for that 😌
Please feel free to comment and leave a vote if you liked this chapter, and thank you so much for reading!
-D