He just looked at me, he's in the same position as Cole once was. His hair wasn't as bad as Cole's. His clothes were okay since it wasn't anything fancy. It was simply, an Iron Man shirt and basketball shorts.
"It's nice to meet you." He spoke. His hands were tied together, using them he pointed in front of him. I guess trying to make me sit there.
I sat, not as close as he wanted, but at least I took a seat. He just stared at me, staring at me like I was being interrogated.
"Mom said you had brown hair and hazel eyes..." He cocked his head to the side, looking at me in confusion.
"Yeah, my hair was brown but, things happened and I now have this hair color." I didn't say anything about my eyes, for I had nothing to say about them.
"And your eyes?" He questioned me.
Okay, maybe I do have something to say about them now.
"I went to bed one day, then woke up the next morning and they were like this. Red." That's the truth, I really don't know how or why they changed.
He said a simple 'oh'. If I was him, that would probably be the only thing I'd say too.
"Mom's okay." He stated bluntly. I was taken back a bit, not expecting him to say that. "She told me about the asylum. Are you better?"
God, he seemed like a younger brother, rather than sixteen. Jezz.
"Sure," I said unsure myself. "Yeah, I am."
"Lies."
I raised my eyes brows. So does he know or not? He's giving off this feeling that he does and doesn't.
"Dylan, what do you know?" I questioned, standing to my feet to sit on the table.
"Being born, leaving Michigan, going back, to the asylum. There's more to it, though. I know it is. Mom and Cole left out a shit ton."
So he knew a little. That's a good thing they didn't tell them what the thought had happened to me. If they did, he wouldn't be acting the way he is. Then again, he's so calm, considering that he's chained to the wall with anything to do but wait for things.
"You want to know the real story? I can tell you if you want." My words were like venom dripping off my tongue. It wasn't in a bad way, it was pretty much like a white girl wants Starbucks.
In other words, means I'm wanting him to know what really happened. Knowing that if I could tell him myself, he could understand what happened and why.
It took me a few good minutes to tell him everything, when it started and why it happened.
"It happened because Jack lied. He told me that someone was after me, so that was his excuse for killing dad." I stated looking down at him.
"What if he was telling the truth? What if someone is really after you, and just wanted to protect you? The things Cole said seemed to explain itself; talking about him, it seems he cares. Also, that you may have a thing for him-from what Micah says." He said, trying to move his legs, which are probably numb. "Plus, that other kid... The way he talked, he seems to have a desire to hate Jack, but he can't."
One, I do not have a thing for Jack. Two, I understand that Micah is that person who wants to hate, but can't. He wants to hate him I guess. If I was him, I'd hate him no matter what.
"I don't have a thing for Jack, and the other kid is Micah." I laid back on the table, looking at the first floors wooden boards.
"Micah, Michael, I don't care. You have a thing for Jack."
"Sure, whatever bro." I rolled my eyes, then lifted up to head for the door.
"Sis," I turned back to him. "When Jack comes, tell him I want to speak with him. Please."
"Oh, Emily!" I turned back to him. "Jack's an interesting pawn in this. You can't read him, or understand him."
I was confused. Has he seen Jack or talked to him. I never thought that he was confusing. Oh well.
I nodded, then out the door, I went. I rushed to my room, grabbed my machete, holster, two small knives and a lighter. I placed them all on the bed and went to the closet. I picked out the darkest colors I had.
Grey jeans, a black shirt that said 'Fuck Everything', a red beanie and a black snapback. And yes, I put the beanie on, then the snapback.
Once I had the rest of my clothes, I head to the bed for the stuff. Placing the holster on my back, then the machete in it. Grabbing the two knives and sticking them in my shoes, and the lighter went into my pocket.
Heading down the stairs, I heard the back door open.
"Emily..." My eyes grew when I heard the tone. "I know you're living here. I know you're here now."
Making me move faster, I headed down the remaining stairs and to the front door. I pretty much yanked the door off the hinges and left. After getting away, and not knowing where I was it just hit me. I'm immortal. I can't die, he can't kill me.
What if he was telling the truth? What if someone is really after you, and just wanted to protect you?
Dylan's words came to my mind. Why? He's not after me... He's just wanting to toy with me like last time.
"He's not really after me... Is he?" I wondered aloud.
"Maybe, maybe not." I turned around and stepped back, looking at him.
Okay, he might be after me. Or, this could be lucky for him to find me.
I was standing in the middle of some wooded area, there was a tent that wasn't even set up or was knocked down.
"So," I looked at him."Why are you following me?"
He brushed a piece of hair out of his face and brushed off some leaves and dirt.
"No reason, really. I just wanted to see how good you've become." Lies, he spoke.
I glared at him, not taking my eyes off of him. I had to blink. I only blinked once and he was gone. I quickly looked around and he was nowhere in my sight, but I was in his.
"Get your ass out here! If you were coming for something else say it instead of being a little pussy, Jeff!" I snapped, then heard snapping behind me.
I turned around to see he was coming at me. His etched smile was even bigger and eyes wider than before. I grabbed my machete and prepared myself.
He had tackled me and pinned me to the ground, my machete went to the ground a few inches beside my head. He moved my wrists beside each other and used one hand to hold me down, his free hand went to my machete.
"Hmm. I like it." I cooed.
He threw it to the side, to where I couldn't see it. He glared at me and I returned one right back to him. He grabbed his knife from his pocket and placed it on my neck.
Like that's gonna kill me. I thought.
He kept applying pressure, to the point it broke skin and he slid it across. He started laughing, the maniacal laughter. I just smiled and joined him. He had moved his hands so mine were free. I moved on hand to the opening on my neck, blood was on them. I licked my fingers and his laughter had stopped. He just watched me. He seen me laugh with him, lick my own blood on my fingers and not die.
He ran his hand over my neck. He jumped a little and mumbled something that sounded like he was wondering about the not-so big opening. I smiled and he glared at me.
"You're not dying. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT DYING!?" I just laughed and pushed him off.
He fell backwards and I brought out my knives.
"Wanna dance, Jeffy boy?" I taunted, tossing my knives.
"Tch. Fine. Bring it brat." He growled.
Oh how wonderful, I get to have blood shed. A smile crept on my lips. I've waited for a while before coming out, and Jeff has offered himself.
He stood and I went at him. The knife in my right hand went towards his shoulder, and that was what he was focusing on. With my left, into the stomach the blade went. His eyes grew wide once he realized that the other blade was in him. I stabbed him again with the other, then pulled both out before he could take them. He gave a smile.
"Smart. Smart." I smirk and we were back at it once again. He ran towards me and he stuck out his knife, it grazed my arm. I gripped my knife and slung it into his back, ripping down. He groaned at the pain as I kept ripping down. Blood leaked out, tons of the red liquid. Seeing it made me smile.
I pulled it out and licked the blade and his eyes were narrowed and he was panting.
"Tired already? Awe, no fun!" I whined like a five year old.
"Nowhere near, girl." He stood straight. The holes in his stomach were starting to heal, as was the tear in his back.
"Tch. Fine." I scoffed.
He threw dirt at me, blinding me for a good moment. He was nowhere in sight again. I looked around, on the ground, and in the trees. He's somewhere.
"Ah!" I screamed. A felt pain, that's for sure.
I looked over my shoulder and seen a knife stuck. He threw it from somewhere.
"Come out! Asshole."
I grabbed the blade and pulled it out, dropping it to the grassy plain. I stood there, waiting for him to come to me, that's when I heard a sudden thud. I instantly turn to that direction to see Jeff laying on the ground, not moving.
"Get up." I grunted.
I walked closer, telling him to get up, and still nothing.
"He's not going to be getting up for a while." I turned to see Jack. "I knocked him out."
I dropped my jaw. Why would he do that? I was having fun fighting, and seeing blood again. I was too busy with being upset that my fun time was over that I didn't notice Jack was in my face. He grabbed my face and pulled it up, looking at something.
"He slit your throat, thinking you'd die. How cute. Now you have a scar." He released my face and we looked at Jeff. "He's gonna scar from where you stabbed him, and cut him open on his back."
I'm pissed. I wanted to fight, I wanted blood to be seen by me and the other, and know I can't. Stupid Jack comes in like 'Dur Dur Dur Durr. I'm gonna knock Jeff out so Emily can't fight him, and tell her to just so she can give me the biggest asshole award'.
Jack motioned me to follow him, and I knew it was back to the house. A place I didn't want to be right now, too. I mentally sigh and give in, but first I had to find my machete.
I looked back at Jeff and seen something. It was the hilt on the blade.
"I was wondering why he was bleeding when I knocked him cold..." Jack flipped him over. When he fell, my machete must have been there. I pulled it out and wiped it clean with his clothes.
"At least he got stabbed with this boy." I was talking about the machete.
We walked home in silence until I spoke up, remembering something, and I had to talk to him.
"Jack," I started. "Dylan wants to talk to you. Plus, someone's after me, and I have a good feeling of who that is."
"Not Jeff. I'll speak to the boy." He stated bluntly as we approached the front of the neighborhood.
Looking at the houses around, I noticed the people out there. They were staring at us, some glaring. It kinda ticked me off that some would glare. One, they have no reason to, for I, or any of us done anything. And what I us, I mean me and Jack. I don't know what Micah's done in a while, other than feed Cole when he was here and now Dylan.
"Just ignore them. They always do that, they do it to everyone. Even the people they call their friends. So please, Emily, get that look off you face before they think you're gonna attack them." He said, not even looking back at me.
He can't see me, he hasn't even turned around. He doesn't know if I'm about to stab him in the back, or run off, let alone see my face and its expression. Jack is a confusing person, you can't read him like most people, you can't understand him. That's how most people see him. I see him as the one kid you can not understand, no matter how close you get to them.
Maybe Dylan's right about Jack being an 'interesting pawn'. If he's the pawn, that makes Micah, Ben, Jeff, and I a pawn.
Only one question that now goes through my head: Who's player and opponents?
----
Uhm, I kinda wanna update this because it has been a while. I'm sorry, by the way. I was having a hard time trying to figure out what was going to happen next... I'm lame, I know.
Also! I have another book, only one part, up! I'm not going to be posting a lot of it because I wanted to see if people like it. Just thought I'd put that out there.
Thank you for reading, you guys are amazing. :)
-ToxicTurtle (TT)