Chapter 19
The cab driver pulled to the side of the street where the loft existed near. I paid the driver, got out of the cab, and walked the little distance left for me to take to the loft. I went though the street heading towards the loft, and the ally. I kept glancing around me in attempt to find anyone that could be following me or watching me. Hank would indeed be furious by now, and surly he would be throwing an internal tantrum of his own. I hope he is smart enough not to tell my brothers or parents since that would get him, and me in serious trouble which also takes us to square one. I am also pretty sure that my parents didn't want me going nowhere today to rest or something since I just got out of the hospital this morning which adds to the long list of things that bring me back to square one.
I looked around me one more time before entering the ally. Surly, a black suited- middle- aged man was warily glancing at me. I sighed. Couldn't this go easy? How come they show up just now in a week? I kept walking, passing the ally that led to the loft. I stopped by this ice cream truck where a lot of kids were standing by since there was also a park entrance near it. I glanced at the man, and sure enough he was keeping a close distance to me. How do I distract this man?
Think, Clark, think. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think.
"Excuse me, miss." I heard a soft voice of a young girl from right beside me. She looked like she was at the age of ten or so. She had pale skin, and had the most lighted blue eyes I have laid eyes on, and her blonde hair that was left down to her shoulder length.
I kneeled down to be in the same eye range as her, "hey there." I smiled. "What can I do to you, princess?" I asked, smiling. I probably shouldn't be talking to strangers or kids that might somehow try to lure you into some way of a trap, but helping seemed like an instinct to me.
"I can't reach the top of the truck to ask the guy to buy ice cream and he won't listen to me." She told me, "would you please, buy me the ice cream?" She pleaded, with a puppy dog face, and a five dollar bill hanging in her hand.
"Where are your parents, sweetie?" I asked frowning, looking around in search for a possible parent that could be looking for his daughter.
"My daddy is talking on the phone over there," she pointed at a middle aged man, surly, talking on the phone, and he looked engaged in a serious conversation. "He gave me the money and told me to buy it for myself while he finishes his phone call." She told me. I somewhat felt.. Familiar with this girl's situation. My dad barely ever had time for me lately. It's like her relationship with her father is almost escalating to a similar relationship as the one I have with mine right now, and I didn't want that to happen.
"Didn't your daddy tell you not to speak to strangers?" I asked her smiling slightly at her cuteness.
"He did," she told me, "but he didn't listen to me when I told him to buy me ice cream, why should I listen to him?"
"You always need to listen to your dad, specially since you're still young. He always knows what's best for you." I couldn't let their relationship turn into something like what me and my dad have. No one deserves to have this. I feel bad for her, and I almost feel bad for myself, but I told myself not to let my emotions get in the way. Darkness.
"Okay," she looked down, "but he is over there, and he is still watching over me, so can you please buy me the ice cream?" She asked
"I would lo-" I cut myself short as a thought crossed my head. I will probably be a terrible person for doing this, but I have to get rid of this man, and her father is staring at her at the moment, so he is watching over her. Weird dad that's okay with his daughter talking to strangers. Maybe he is okay with her talking to non- suspicious people, but if he finds her talking to black-suited man, he might go there and take her, therefore talking to the man, therefore distracting him. Let's just hope I am not a terrible person.
"You know what?" I told her, "I can't. I am really really busy and I am in a hurry, but do you see that guy over there, the one wearing a black suit?" I looked in the direction of the man not wanting to point.
"That one." She pointed straight at him. I held her hand and put it down by her side, laughing nervously.
"Yeah, that one," I chuckled nervously, "don't point at people in the street." She nodded innocently, "he would love to buy you ice cream. Just go ask him. He would love that." I told her.
"Okay. I hope you get where you want to go on time." She tells me. I glanced at the time and sure enough it was 5 minutes to the time when I had to meet Dylan, which means I have 5 minutes left or else he might think I am not showing up, or hurt.
"I hope so too. I hope you get your ice cream." I smiled. She smiled at me then she walked over to the man. I turned my head around and pretended to look the other way. A couple of seconds later I turned again, and sure enough, black-suit was occupied by the girl, and her father was already walking over to them. That man did look suspicious and not just to me.
I took that as my cue to walk away quickly as I could. Sped walked over to the ally and ran into it, after glancing around me one more time, making sure no one was following, then I climbed the fence quickly and walked to the loft that had almost dead trees surrounding it.
I walked through the door and looked around in an attempt to find Dylan, and I found him sitting on the broken staircase with his head in his hands. He had the same clothes he wore this morning when he came and saw me at the hospital, simple jeans and t-shirt that made him look really attractive, and it is not just now have I really stared at him to realize how attractive he really is.
His sharp jaw line that makes his entire face so precious, so sharp. His hair that is just messy, yet so eloquent and styled. Even though he doesn't really seem to do much to it, it looks like he spends most his mornings organizing how messy it should be to reach perfection. His plump, pink lips that never looked swollen, like he uses all types of lip balm that exist, yet doesn't. His eyes, that even though are hidden in the palm of his hands at the moment, are buried in my head. Those beautiful brown eyes, that don't seem to settle on a specific color. In times are hazel and others are chocolate brown, like they somehow signify his moods. When he is happy or ecstatic they're hazel. When he is frustrated or worried they turn brown. The way they shine in the dim of the light. Those eyes that I wouldn't have enough words to describe how much I would stare at them and never get bored of them, how much it feels like I have stared into them before, even before I really met him. Somehow those eyes feel familiar, from before even the accident. From the first time I saw him, they have always felt familiar.
I must've been staring for minutes that seemed like hours, because suddenly his head snapped up in alert as if he was caught doing something wrong. His eyes came in contact with mine, and like I said before, I could stare at them forever.
"Clark," he sighed, "I thought you were someone else." He said. When he noticed me staring at him, a playful smirk came upon his face, "like what you see, Stressie?" That nickname. No one ever gave me a nickname, not like that. My name is pretty singular. It didn't lead to any nickname. You could only call me Clark. My brothers sometimes called me Ark, but even they rarely do that, knowing it wouldn't make much sense, but this nickname, his nickname. It was unique, and hearing him say it was different.
I averted my sight away from him with my cheeks burning so hot in embarrassment. I was just caught checking him out, although I will never admit that. In no doubt I was blushing, but I had to have a comeback, "I am already visualizing duct-tape over your mouth and I haven't talked to you for one minute."
"So you're not denying it?" He smirked again as he stood up from the staircase, dusting of his pants.
"You can only wish it's true." I spat back.
He shook his head smiling then looked at me for a couple of seconds, his eyes meeting mine. We were savoring the moment. We haven't seen each other in days and we just wanted to remember how it felt to be together, how it felt to be in the presence of the other. "I missed this." He murmured.
"Me too. I am sorry." I mumbled.
"It's fine. You were doing what you thought was best for both of us." He held eye contact for a couple of more seconds.
We both snapped out of our trance and he was the first to break the eye contact. Then I frowned, "you said; you thought I was someone else, who did you think i was?" I asked .
his features softened, "I think someone was following me here. One of those SUV men. I tried to lure him off, barely. He was defiantly following me, but he lost me half way here." He informed me. I frowned. I knew that we were still being followed, but to a minimum way. I thought that since these people don't see Dylan and I seeing each other, that they would just leave us alone, but apparently they're long from leaving us alone.
"Weird," I frowned, looking to the ground, "I think someone was following me here to, but I managed to distract him off."
"Are you okay? I mean, did anything happen?" He started asking never ending question, with concern and protectiveness lacing his entire face, but still scratching the back of his neck in nervousness.
"I am fine," Which reminds me of the sole reason I wanted, and had to see Dylan so much. My parents' phone call. The eavesdropping. "There's something I have to tell you." I told him.
"Yeah, what is it?" He asked, "you got me thinking something's wrong. Is everything okay?" He asked, stretching his hand out to gently hold my arm in protection, concern lacing his voice. If it was anyone else right now, I would've snapped at them from all the freaking concern that drowned me to the tip of my head.
"It's fine- or not- just," I paused to take a breath, "yesterday, before I fainted," I noticed him tense from the mention of me fainting, "I heard this conversation my dad had on the phone then with my mum. It was fishy, so fishy I could smell the freaking ocean." I shook my head and started pacing around as I finished my sentence.
Even though my parents may have something to do with all of this, who said anything about me wanting to believe it. Who said anything about me not wanting to trust them because they don't deserve my trust. Even though they turned on me a lot, and have been ignoring me a lot, they're still my parents, and never have I ever wanted to reach a point when I had to not trust them this way. That made me feel like I want to throw up. How could my parents do this to me? To Dylan? That's if they have anything to do with this, but this phone call. They had to at least know something about this. All these thoughts were having a party in my head as I paced around the remains of the loft, breathing heavily and trying to wrap my head around one single thought not ten.
"Hey, hey," Dylan grabbed my arm and stopped me from pacing and pulled me so that I was standing in front of him. He put his hand on my cheek, and caressed it making me look at him, "calm down. We'll figure it out, okay? Just tell me what's wrong?" I nodded.
Then I told him everything, everything I remember, everything I know, and everything I suspect. From the conversation my dad had on his phone to the one he had with my mother. The Mason person, them suspecting that we suspect something, or well they which is most likely us. The final stage that might occur. Everything. All of it.
When I was finished, he looked at me for a couple of seconds before looking away and pacing around the room, running his hand through his hair. He kept pacing for about minute before I lost it.
"You need to stop pacing." I snapped. He stopped and looked at me. He shook his head and paced around again before stopping and looking at me.
"And what happened after that?" He asked.
"I fainted."
He let out a couple of profanities, running a hand through his hair that didn't look the least bit fazed or affected by the gesture. In fact it even looked more attractive on hi- snap out of it Clark!
"It would make sense." I told him.
"How would it make sense exactly?" He asked frustratingly.
"Well, they leave a lot, like a lot. My dad works at Baxter labs which means he has full access to any genetic or scientific ordeal there." I listed, "do you know they hired a bodyguard to spy on me." His head perked up.
"Is he.." He trailed off.
"No, he is not here. I managed to sneak out, but it won't be long until he starts looking everywhere for me." I told him, and his body relaxed, "I am not even sure my dad really works at Baxter labs the only evidence I have it this letter I saw on our coffee table that doesn't say much. He said that he worked there, but-I-I don't think I even remember him working there."
"Are you sure?" He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "I mean, are you sure that this is what it probably meant? Do you really want to believe this, Clark?" He asked, "this could change everything. Everything."
"I don't know what and what not to believe, but if they have something to do with this.. Shouldn't we try to figure it out." I asked, pointing my hand out, "this is the closest we've been since we started this."
"I get it. I know it is the closest we've been, but this is serious. Those are your parents we are talking about. Why would you believe they would do this to you? To me? How do they even know me?" he asked, getting angry as myself, "if this is real, if this is true. If your parents really have to do anything with this, then we've been giving them a full report since the day I set foot in your house."
"That's why we are going to be one step ahead of them this time." I told him, "we'll pretend that we are not talking to each other. We'll only talk telepathically. We won't let them believe that we are thinking about this, because if by 'them' they meant us then that means some final stage is going to happen if they suspect we know a thing." I further explained. "I am going to look into my dad's office. He probably keeps something somewhere in there an-"
"Are you even listening to yourself?" He snapped, "this just got ten times harder and confusing than it was a week ago. How are you even coping with this?"
I let out a frustrated breath, "you have no rights to tell me how I am coping with this." I pointed on his chest, "trust me, I am doing everything in my will to believe that this Is not what it looks like. I am hoping with every inch in my body that if my parents have something to do with this, that they didn't do it to hurt me. I am hoping that whatever it is they have or had planed is not to put me in danger. I want to believe this. I am trying so hard to believe this." With each sentence I say I talked a step forward poking his chest as he takes a step back, "so you are asking me how I am coping with this?I am not. I am not looking at this with my feelings. I just want to know what the hell is happening to us, and trust me when I tell you, I am trying so hard to think that they are still trying to protect me. so don't ask me how I am coping with this."
He was silence after my mini-threat-breakdown. I walked away and paced around as he just watched me.
"Clark, I-"
"I don't want to hear it." I said, "I know you're sorry. I know you didn't mean for it to sound like this, but I guess we need to know that ever since we met.. things were never going to be the same again." I paused, "nothing is the same anymore. This is bigger than we both ever thought. I thought that by running away from you, I could lead us both to a normal life, when actually, I am not. Wherever we go, we somehow always manage to come back again. Our life isn't normal." I huffed out, "so we might as well just embrace the freaking paranormal activity and figure this out!" I exclaimed.
shaking his head, "then let's figure this out." He walked up to me and nodded in agreement. "No more sneaking around. We need a plan, a blue print."
I looked into his eyes for a minute in search for dishonesty or sarcasm and found neither. He wanted to figure this out too. We both did. This is t even a matter of wanting anymore. We need to figure out what we are. We need to find out who did this. This is even bigger than who we are now. This is bigger than we ever thought. I nodded to him.
"So what's the plan?" He went over to the staircase and sat down, me following suit and sitting next to him.
"We need to be one step ahead of them. All of them. Not just my parents but also the people following us," I told him, "we don't want them to see us together, or talking to each other. We'll only talk telepathically. I am still working on Hank leaving bu-"
"Hank?" Dylan crinkled his eyebrows in confusion, "Who's Hank?"
"My babysitter. The one my parents hired to spy on me."
"Are you even sure he is spying on you?"
"Yes, a hundred percent sure. I confronted him yesterday. He didn't deny it. He gave it all out in a blink," I snapped my fingers to show him how fast, "I made a deal with him not tell my parents anything about me without telling me first."
"How do you know he isn't lying to you, Clark? He could be doing this just to make you-"
"If he wants to keep his job, he'll keep it shut," I cut him off, "no one wants to be fired by the Morgans. It's not good for your survey. No one would hire someone fired by a family like mine. He wouldn't be able to afford it." I paused, "it's not like I am really going to get him fired. It's just a threat, and it did come in handy, so.." Raised my hands up in a shrug.
"You have it all figured out don't you, Stressie?" He asked rhetorically. "Why are you even trying to make him leave?"
"You ask too many questions, don't you? I thought that was me." I smirked.
"I just miss you, Clark," he whispered loudly enough for me to hear, "I miss listening to you talk. It's been a week now. Do you have any idea how many times I came to your house, asking for you, but your brother keeps driving me away. Every single time." He asked, hurt lacing a little bit of his voice as he looked me in the eyes we were now face to face. Eye to eye. Nose to nose. I could feel his breath on my face, His minty breath. I caught him glancing at my lips. I blinked.
I felt my cheeks burn up from guilt, embarrassment and.. Simply his words. I, quickly stood up from the staircase. "I want him to leave because soon enough he'll suspect something." I changed the subject. I could see Dylan shaking his head from the tip of my sight. I turned around to look at him and leaned on the handle of the staircase, "he spends twenty-four hours a day with me. One day he is going to see or catch something weird, and I just- I can't afford that. It's too dangerous for even him to know that. he'll be I'm danger."
"And how are you planing on doing that exactly?" He asked leaning on his elbows.
"It's not that hard when you're working with me. He's been here a week and I could tell that he already has second thoughts about leaving."
"I bet you bring him as much stress as you give me." He murmured to himself, but I heard it.
"I can handle myself. I didn't ask for you to worry about me, Dylan." I challenged. At the sound if his name his head snapped in my direction. From how long I haven't said his name. It almost felt foreign on my tongue, almost. It can never be foreign to me though. He always seemed familiar to me. Not just the eyes or the face, even the name. He was always familiar to me no matter how long we don't see each other.
"Oh yeah?" He stood up from the staircase, "you sure about that?" He challenged back.
"Oh yeah," I mimicked, "I am positive." I stood my ground, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Fine," he held his hands up in the air, "how about we see how you can handle yourself." In a slight second, he tried to grab my arm, which he did. He attempted to twist it around my back and push me to the wall, but I was stronger. I was faster, so with my other hand I grabbed his hand that was holding my my arm, and twisted his arm around, therefore, turning him around and pressing him to the wall, putting in all my strength in keeping him there. It's not my strength that kept him pressed to the wall. It was the pain in his arm that did, since his entire strength and focus was on the pain. That's how you manipulate your opponent, by pain, by making them put all their focus on the pain and so therefore, you're one step ahead. Lesson one: Use pain to weaken your opponent
"Never underestimate your opponent." I whispered in his ear, "specially when she has strong arms and faster reflexes." I rose my eyebrows in amusement, which he probably can't see since his back was to me.
"Clark- ow! Seriously-ah. just-let go- Clark-" he kept groaning in pain, but i knew I wasn't causing any damage. He was struggling in my grip, but I wasn't flinching away one bit since his resistance wasn't really legit considering his pain. I also guess tennis hands aren't that weak either.
"So can I handle myself?" I asked.
"Yes." He groaned out in resistance.
"What? I didn't hear that?" I pressed more weight on his arm which seems to convince him.
"Yes! Yes! Just let go, please! My arm is killing me!" He yelled.
"Fine." I huffed as I let go of his arm. As soon as I did his arm fell numb on his side as he held it with his other arm, groaning in pain, rubbing it, and catching his breath. He sent me a glare, "well, that wasn't hard now, was it?" I tested. "It's just a little pain. It makes us human."
"I am sorry?" He asked disbelievingly, " a little-"
"Apology accepted." I winked at him teasingly. I tapped him on the arm I was gripping which earned me a groan, "don't sweat yourself big boy." I went over to the staircase and took his place as he was now standing in my former position by the staircase, in the same awkward position. I rose my eyebrows at him mockingly as he stared at me.
He clenched and Unclenched his jaw a couple of times and kept mumbling things under his breath as he rubbed his arm and paced around the room. "When did you get like this?" He mumbled. I narrowed my eyes, but he only seemed more possessed by the pain that I caused in his arm, not noticing my narrowed eyes.
I sighed, "the Clark you used to know is different, Dylan." He stopped walking and looked at me, "I changed the day I left your house. I am pretty sure I changed the day i woke up from the accident.. I don't remember my past and I don't think that this is how i was in the last two years or so, but I don't care honestly, because I am different now." I stood up. "And I don't think I can ever be the same person I was because Things are different now. More than just people, more than friends, everything is different." I looked him in the eye, as I was standing right in front of him now.
He looked right into my eyes again, and I think we were never as intimate as we were in that moment. Not only were we sharing stares. We were sharing emotions, and no, not thoughts that get transferred telepathically, emotions. We were sharing concern, concern that was being built up inside of me for as long as I can remember, because as soon as it was all dripped from us, we were going to start fresh. No feelings will get in our way, none. Nothing could, or even should distract us anymore. Things just got ten times more complicated and I am unaware wether or not things will ever be the same way they are at that moment, because I guess I know the answer. I've known it all along, and so did he.
"Everything is going to be different."
~~~
"You leave first. I'll wait about," Dylan glanced at his watch to observe the time, "ten minutes. I Guess that should do." He told me. I nodded and stood up from my position on the ground as I was for the last hour or less.
I dusted off my pants then glanced at my own watch to see that we have been here in the loft for about forty-five minutes, planing out a way as to how I was going to deal with my parents, and how Dylan and I would communicate. We have an outline this time, not as we did before. After the conversation we had after I pinned him to the wall we simply stood there silent for a minute and then We agreed to shut off all of the emotional and personal parts and start this process right, to figure out what is actually happening around us and not to be blinked by emotions.
"This should be good." I nodded, then I looked up at him twisting my head to the side at his let down facial expression, "hey, are you okay?" I asked concerned.
He snapped his head up, shaking his head a little bit to freshen up, "yeah, I guess.. I was just-maybe- I-I-" he stuttered.
"You what?"
"Maybe I should see what my parents have to say about this too." He said, "I mean, maybe they have something to do with this too. Doesn't it make sense? Maybe both our parents are involved in this."
"That's if my parents are involved in this." I reasoned, "listen, I am not saying you shouldn't have your doubts, but you shouldn't jump into conclusions either. You don't really have any proof, neither do I, but wether or not my parents are involved in this. They're hiding something from me, something that I need to figure out."
He nodded.
"We are taking baby steps this time. No more mistakes. We are going to watch our steps and we'll be one step ahead. Everything's going to be okay, alright?" I asked him, putting my hand on his arm in a comforting matter.
"Yeah," he assured me. I never thought that this day would come. The day that I would be the one comforting and assuring Dylan, not the other way around. He used to be the one assuring me that I am going to be fine, that everything is going to be fine, that I shouldn't let my emotions get the best of me. Now it's me telling him that. I guess choosing to ignore all the emotions that hold you back does put you upfront, more confidant about yourself, about your case, but it never makes you a better person.
"I have to leave. Hank is probably pulling all his hair out by now." I walked to the door of the loft, Dylan following behind. As soon as we reached the fence I looked back to Dylan, "ten minutes okay?" I asked.
"I know." He told me, smiling in assurance. I hesitated, before nodding. I held on to the fence, getting ready to climb before I felt Dylan's hand on my arm stopping me. I frowned as I turned to him, "everything is going to be okay, Clark. We are going to figure this out." He assured me.
I smiled, genuinely this time, "I know." He smiled back at me, which then turned into a smirk.
"Take care, Stressie." He stepped closer to me, pressing his lips to my forehead, "I'll talk to you later." Then he stepped back. I nodded then I held on the fence and started climbing the ten foot tall, metal fence that led to an ally. As soon as my feet touched the ground I speed walked out of the ally and into the Main Street. I walked for about two minutes before standing to the side to call on the cab. Out of the corner of my eyes I noticed a black Mercedes pull up next to me. I tensed up, unsure as to why the car would park here.
The engine of the car stopped signaling it was parking here, in a no parking area. My guard was twenty feet tall by then. Usually the cars following me were SUVs. I started walking away from the car not glancing at it. I heard the car's door open and shut, then footsteps behind me. Don't be paranoid, it could be a normal person going somewhere or something.
I kept walking for about five minutes and by now, I was pretty far from the loft. The person that emerged from the car was still following me. He had his sunglasses on, dressed in simple garments of; khakis and a t-shirt along with a black leather jacket that gave off to the whole, I am creepy and following you, type of vibe. I kept walking and sure enough he was following me. At a certain point he started walking faster and faster until he was right behind me. At that moment my pulse rose so quickly, I wouldn't doubt it if he heard it by then too.
I stopped walking and stood In front of a shop's glass viewer, pretending to watch something inside. The man stood by the side of the driveway, looking towards the cars. From the glass of the shop I could see him, and sure enough, he was glancing my way a lot. For a couple of seconds, he devoted himself to staring at me. Maybe just maybe I am not that paranoid.
I started walking again and he waited a second before doing so himself, only he was still following me, and looking at me a lot, as if I am a target. He is not sneaky. At this point, I was sure of one thing; I need to run the hell away from this guy.
So I ran.
I sprinted actually, it was sudden. One moment I was walking at the speed of a human turtle, the next I am running at the speed of a train. It didn't take him long to sprint after me too. That assured me that I am his target. He was following me. I wasn't that far away from home. If I kept running at this rate without stopping, I'd probably be home in about ten to fifteen minutes, but I wasn't going to lead this following maniac to my house. Over my dead body will he reach my family.
"Aye, stop!" He yelled, with his thick, tired voice, as he was running after me. I didn't even respond as I kept running.
To get to my house, I was supposed to take a turn left. I turned right. I zigzagged my way through people who were staring at me like I am a crazy person running away from an even crazier person. My legs were starting to burn up from exhaustion at this point. My lungs were feeling as if they were going to collapse from the burning sensation. Even though my feet wanted to stop, my brain told it not to. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as my feet carried me even further and I could feel it moving faster.
I glanced back to see where the man was behind me, and he was pretty far from me. I took another turn right and I bumped right into someone which sent me back a few steps and almost falling to the ground. I mumbled out a few apologies and profanities, glancing behind me, getting ready to run again only to find the person grabbing me by the sides of my arms getting me on full alarm.
"Clark?" Asked the familiar voice. As soon as my face was lifted up and looked at the person I felt much relief, for the first time in my life, to see Hank.
"Oliver," I sighed. He must've noticed me calling him by his first name, which meant something was serious, so he tensed up to 100 degrees after hearing his name.
"What's wrong?" He asked, "what are you running from?" He asked again when I didn't reply.
My attention snapped back to him, "n-nothing. I am not running from anything." At this point I was breathing heavily as I took one last glance behind me to see that the person following me was no longer there.
Hank didn't seem convicted with my answer, "then why were you running?"
"I wasn't running."
"It didn't look like it. You came barreling down the street at the speed of a plane. Your breathing is hard. Your face is red. You want me to list you more reasons?"
"What a-" he cut me off.
"How about the fact that you keep glancing behind you every two seconds." He rose his eyebrow at me, "care to explain now?" He asked.
"No,"
"What do you mean no?" He asked disbelievingly.
"I mean no. Are you deaf?" I asked dryly, "it's really non of your business."
"It is when it is concerned with your safety." He argued.
"There is nothing wrong with my freaking safety, okay?!" I snapped, "I wasn't running. I was in a hurry." I gave myself a second to think of a lie, a plausible one, "I was lost and I-I couldn't find my way."
"How were you lost?" He frowned in concern.
"It's just- ever since the accident, everything's been a little blurry. I don't remember much yet. I could barely even know anything from what happened in the last two years." I explained, "and the roads, they're still blurry in my head. It gets confusing, specially when I haven't been there before." He was silent, as if he felt bad for me. One for Clark, zero for Hank.
"Well, maybe things would've been different if you wouldn't have left the house without me." Oh here we go, "that's why your parents hired me, Clark, so when you are confused or lost that I would get to help, so that I would protect-"
"No, they hired you to spy on me." I cut him off.
"No, not as a main reason. Are you still milking this? When I told you that yesterday, it was- it wasn't supposed to sound like this. They just want to know where you go. How you interact. Who you-"
"Yes! I am still milking this. Whatever it is you're trying to say isn't changing the sole reason they hired you for. You used to be in the military, right?" I asked, and he nodded, "than you would know that spying is still spying."
"You should've waited for me, Clark." He said, "you can't leave the house without me, damn it! You said you would wait."
"For thirty seconds. Not my problem you were late."
"Thirty seconds?" He asked disbelievingly "I thought you were joking."
"Also not my problem that you don't have any commitments or respect to time." I argued.
"I am pretty sure it took me less than thirty seconds."
"I am pretty sure I don't care how long it took you to pee." I argued, "you took your time and I had to leave. End of discussion." I paused, then panic rose inside of me, "you didn't tell my brothers, did you?"
"No, I didn't. I said I would wait for a couple of hours and look for you. If I hadn't of found you, I would've told them by now."
I sighed, "next time, do you and me a favor and wait a day before you decide to tell them."
"There won't be a next time." He stated.
"What ever helps you sleep at night." I muttered, "whatever. Come on let's go home." I said loudly.
He nodded, "my car's just around the corner." He said. We started walking back to where he parked the car, "where were you anyway?" He asked.
"I was talking a walk." I lied.
He nodded, realizing I probably don't want to talk anymore. The rest of the time to the car was silent. Once we arrived to the car, I got in the backseat while he took the driver's seat and started the car, taking me back home in silent. But not once have I blinked and went blindfolded to the car following us.
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NOT EDITED.
I am sorry
I know I know it's been like a century since I last updated but I traveled then I had exams and I still kinda do, but her is a little update.
Teaser for next chapter: a character will be coming back.. Guess who
Thank U for reading, don't forget to vote and comment!
Love always, MK