chapter 1

Chapter 1.

Since I heard the news about his release, my body has been in shock. I can't believe five years had passed already. I can still remember everything like it was yesterday, and I still don't know how my life would be with him around.

I can't stop staring at the two-story house across from mine. The height is the same as in my past, just like the inside is murky and treacherous. I watch till the figures of my past are completely lost in the shadow of the dusky sky, but even then, I keep staring, and I keep thinking about him.

I feel a warm touch on my shoulder. I shudder. As I turn around, I see my mom. "Honey," she coos with her pitiful eyes boring me.

"I didn't see you coming," I say to her. She understands the implication of him coming back, but she's trying to hide her fears, just like everyone else.

"It's late. Go to bed." She taps on my shoulder. I nod and stroll up to my room. 

All through the night, I think about him and what might happen with him around, and I'm terrified that it won't be good.

"Grumble and rise, sleepy head!" The intense sound of my door pulls me out from meditating further. I turn my face to the door and see Charity standing halfway inside my room.

"Oh." She pushes her head back, seeming shocked. "You're awake already…" She plods in, looking at me like I'm a bag full of mashed potatoes. She hates mashed potatoes. Standing in front of my bed, she crosses her hands on her chest, then cocks her head. "Let me guess. You couldn't sleep?"

I force myself up from the bed. "Nope," I say simply, trudging towards my bathroom.

I turn on the hot shower; it feels like my brain is melting with each drop that touches my body. I close my eyes and feel the hot water burning against me, but I also experience much more, such as the agony from each hole that was made in her chest. I hold onto myself. I just want to forget, and with him coming back, I think there's zero chance of that happening. After my dreadful shower, I get ready for school by putting on short-ripped jeans that are way above my knee, and I wear a white t-shirt that reads NEW YORK-ISH. I brush concealer over my face while glancing in the mirror. I then line my eyes with black mascara. I appear powerful because of it. However, I truly am a sixteen-year-old girl who is shrinking and damaged, so I brush it off. My ponytail holds back my dark tresses. Having removed my cosmetics, I now appear to be myself. I pick up my school bag and bounce out of my room. On getting to the living room, I suddenly feel soothed by the powerful smell that fills my nostril. I stand still for a while to perceive more of this delicious aroma.

"Bacon," I utter after realizing. I hurry to the dining area where I perceive more of what good life feels like. 

"Hey, hon," my mom calls me mindlessly as she dishes out bacon and sausage.

"Wow," I utter as I approach the dining table.

"I made your favorite." I stare at the bacon that is neatly served to be engulfed. She's trying so hard to make me feel better. She has been for the past five years. And I feel horrible for making them worry about me. I wish I could make them see that they had no fault in what happened. I wish they could stop blaming themselves (just like I wish he didn't do it.)

"You didn't have to," I say with a small voice. My eyes are still gazing at the food.

She rubs my back and then kisses me on my head. "Go take a seat," she instructs, and I happily obey.

"Did I die and go to heaven?" Charity approaches. A tiny portion of her face is showing frown lines. Behind her is Mr. Langford, and I'm a bit relieved his face is not as stoned as usual. Charity takes her seat, same with my mom. Mr. Langford stands behind Mom, and places his hands on the top of her chair. I can feel his eyes on me while I mindlessly scroll through my phone in the hope of getting a text from Zack. 

"I know everyone is frightened about the News," Mr. Langford says. I can still feel him gazing at me.

"I'm not," Charity says with a mouthful.

I almost scoff hearing that from Charity. She and Jeremy weren't close, so I can understand why she's not scared. The truth is, I'm frightened about the news, and at the same time, I'm thrilled about his audacity to return to Stoneybrook.

"Ahem," Mr. Langford clears his throat.

"Oh, sorry, sir," Charity apologizes.

"And…" he continues, "I can assure everyone that nothing is going to happen. I won't let that beast anywhere near my family." I hate the fact that we are having this conversation, but not as much as I hate it when he calls him a beast. It's like a pot calling the kettle black.

"I have to go." I stand up from my seat.

"Already? Honey, you barely even touched your food," Mom says. I'm honestly sorry that I'm unable to eat the food she made specifically for me with so much love, but I can't stand her husband.

"Yeah, but I'm late for school, so I have to go," I tell her as I pick up my bag from the chair handle.

Charity scoffs. "It's 7 am," she adds, enjoying her bacon.

I ignore her. As I take one step out, "Sit," Mr. Langford commands. He has a crook voice that comes out only when he's ready to display his madness, and right now, he is. I gulp and obediently sit my ass down. "There are rules I came up with, rules that everyone is going to oblige while the monster is around." He finally sits next to Mom, while I fall in the chair, waiting for his psych rules. I can feel his eyes on me while I stare down at the dining table before me. I suddenly feel anxious because I know his rules are meant for me alone.

"You don't speak to him. You don't go five meters close to him. You don't talk about him. You don't even look at him!" He outlines his rules with rage, like anybody who breaks them has him to contend with. He pauses. Right now I can feel his glares, but not even for a second do I look at him. "Have I made myself clear?" He asks, but no response. "Have I made myself clear?!" He hits his palm on the table, and I startle.

"Yes," I whimper.

"Good." His croaking voice comes off audible this time. He pushes out his chair and stands up. He picks up his jacket from the nailed rack which is beside the door, then he heads out.

Mom rubs her palm on my back in a way to soothe me. Just as I hear Mr. Langford's car fade out, another car arrives. The sound of it is steady, unlike Mr. Langford's Corolla, which makes a rattling sound. 

Pummmmm!!! 

The horn of Zack's car is nothing but annoying. I pick up my school bag as I stand up. "Love you." I kiss my mom on the cheek and head out. I immediately notice the two-story house across when I walk outside the house. The home still appears to be dark, even in the middle of the day. It is as if it's under a cloud of doom. Mrs. Oscar hurries out of it while I'm gazing. She pauses when she sees me staring. She crosses her hand on her chest with her Gucci bag hanging at the crook of her elbow. She is glaring at me with that V-shaped face of hers, which seems to be the only beautiful thing in her vicinity. But I'm just staring at her. I get that she despises me, any mother would, considering what I did. But making it so obvious is silly of her.

Pump!Pum!Pum! Once again, Zack helps distract me from an uncomfortable situation. He's seated in the driver's seat of his car which is parked at the curb. I smile at him as I approach his brand-new Porsche that sparks blue. "OH MY GOD!" I exclaim as I feel the smoothness of the car beneath my palm. "What…!" I squeal as I get into the passenger seat. "Wow!" I utter, looking around the inside which looks like paradise.

"This is what your dad got you for your birthday?" I ask enthusiastically.

"Relax." He smiles, and his dimples appear. "Well according to my old man, this is half of it," he says to me as he ruffles his glossy dark hair in the rearview, acting cocky in a way.

I elbow him. "Okay, you are officially a big F* hedonist." 

"Hedonist?" He pushes back his head.

"Just drive," I tell him.

We don't make it halfway to school before we notice police cars circling the street. It's alarming to see police concerned about his freedom. They keep stopping cars on the road, advising them to call 911 immediately if they notice something is wrong. They stop ours, but I am way too frightened about the future that I don't listen to anything the cops are saying.

"Damn, this is more serious than I thought," Zack says, looking out his window at how crowded the road is with caring cops, or should I say, frightened cops.

Arriving at school, there are more police officers than those on the way. It is as if Stoneybrook high school has now become the Department of Police. 

"What da…" Zack utters, shocked. I can now begin to see the terror growing inside of him. Yes, I was expecting everyone to be alarmed about him coming back, but I didn't think people were this scared of him. Zack parks at the lot, in the middle of piles of wrecked cars. Sometimes I think Zack does not belong in Stoneybrook. First of all, he's rich and from a good background. Second, the height of his dream is far taller than Stoneybrook. 

I get out of the car before him. The police are all in their boring uniform, guarding the school building with their most common weapon hanging on their pants. I watch as students murmur in groups. I'm not scared of the police, they are the least of my worries. I'm just wondering why exactly they came here. They should be monitoring him, not scaring the hell out of hundreds of students.

"Stupid, right?" Zack's voice echoes beside me.

"What?" I ask, distracted.

"So he killed one person, he's not the first." Zack tugs down the strip of his school bag, which is on one shoulder.

I glance at him, surprised he's not bothered by all of this. "Maybe we are all terrified because he was the first person caught in the act," I say to him.

"Caught?" He asks, leering at two skinny girls who are sashaying past us. "By who?" He asks doubtfully, striding into school.

His question shakes me still to the ground as I picture my past. How painful it was. How scared I was. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as I run away from a disastrous image that is now erecting in my head.

"Seriously, you should be scared!" I utter. My sudden gibber startles him, and he drops his copy of GONE GIRL by Gillian Flynn, the mystery novel we had finished in literature class two weeks ago. Zack is not a book-lover, but I guess the reason he still has his copy has to do with his last meeting with Professor Sheldon.

His coffee-creamed eyes are now mixed with black and blue curiosity. He stares

at me for a few seconds. "Okay, what's your deal about this?" He asks, looking at me with furrowed brows.

I gulp and tug down the strap of my school bag. Maybe I'm too terrified because I am very much aware of what he is capable of. How he could turn out to be your worst enemy in a blink of an eye. Or maybe because I know Zack is too gullible and too fragile, just like Mikaela was. "Well…I…" While I am trying to give him an understandable reason for my fuss, the murmuring sounds increase into gasping, but I don't mind it.

"I'm…"

"If not Stoneybrook's most famous murderer," Zack cuts me off, looking over my shoulder. His eyeballs are now on a solid focus, and his soft-looking pink lips which most girls adore are now curved into a manipulative smile. 

Suddenly, the school goes quiet like a quenched fire. I can only hear steady footsteps approaching. With Each footstep that approaches closer, my heart bangs. When the sound of the heavy booth cracks louder, I shiver. But then it stops, and I feel his presence right beside me. It feels like a trailer of anxiety suppressing itself upon me. I feel irritations like allergies. I can't move a muscle, I can't even breathe. And at this duration, I have become a frightening sculpture.