Chapter18

#Chapter18

Fear had hit him like an avalanche of house bricks. Blind panic had overridden sense, and in his chaotic rush, he had located the cleaning supplies beneath the sink and attempted to clean up the mess. He had figured that if he got it right away, there wouldn't be a smell when it dried.

Bleach.

He had used bleach.

Had he been thinking rationally instead of running on terror and panic, he would have known what an awful mix the two would have made.

But he hadn't been thinking clearly. It hadn't even been until he had started scrubbing the stuff in that the lightbulb had gone off, and the 'oh crap' had set in.

Bracing himself for the response, he found himself waiting to see if Jackson was a man of his word. He waited for the fury to twist his face, or for rage to steal away at his eyes.

It never came.