Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LIBBY CAMERON "i can try to be like you guys, strong and vicious. if i wished hard enough."
)(
"move." i grunted, turning my side.
now that we found riley, she took the bed i was in which led me to sharing mattress with timothée on the ground.
"you move." he says with a drowsy voice, pulling the blanket we had.
"that's it." i whispered, aggressively "i'm sleeping in the other room."
the feeling of not having sleep because of the uncomfortable situation i was put into and having to be near him, aggravated me for some reason.
"fuck— can you listen? we stay together." he says back.
i get up to go into the next room, as i dragged the pillow with me. "stop acting like we're inseparable, i'm not gonna die being alone in another room." i say. "so stop caring for me so much!"
"inseparable? you think i want to care for you?" he chuckled, which embarrassed me. "the only reason i want you alive right now is just so i don't have riley asking what happened to you."
i paused not knowing what to say, i wanted to just choke him and stop him from breathing just so he can shut up. "and i have no reason for you to alive right now, so give up on the reason you have for me." i mumbled.
i walked into the other room, he follows and he shuts the door.
he holds my arm, making me turn around. i avoid eye contact, moving my arm away from his gentle grip.
"my eyes are here." he lifts my chin up, so i can look at him.
i look up at him.
i feel my heartbeat intensively "what." i pin my eyes at him.
"we are going back into that room." his voice becomes more raspy.
"oh really? or what." i furrowed my eyes, annoyed.
"or—" he stops talking for a moment.
a bright light examines the window and catches our attention. i rush over to the window, poking my heads out to see what it might've been.
timothée doesn't go over to see.
but there i saw her.
my sweet libby. she stands there with a few other people, she looked tired, like she's been walking for hours. with blood stained on her white laced dress with red roses on them.
my eyes brighten. the warmth and relief that she was safe. she doesn't see me at first, i rush downstairs to get to her; but timothée stops me.
"too quick." he says.
"but i know them."
"i don't care, i go first and you stay behind." he demanded.
"stop acting like some sort of hero." i huffed, i hated the way he acted. made me feel more helpless than i already was. like i was incapable of anything.
i walk out the door and i see libby. they're all standing there with flashlights and backpacks. dirt and blood stained on either their clothes or faces.
"oh my!" she runs over to hug me, she holds me tight, holding my face. i could almost cry, she was alright.
"listen." i hear timothée voice. "one hand up." he demands everyone to do. "now!" he says bluntly.
they all listened, raising one hand.
his eyes look at every single one of them, then his eyes follow to libby. an unsettling off look, which makes her look away. he did as well.
someone clears their throat loudly, i look to see who it was.
marcus baker. you had to be kidding me. he looked deadly, not in that way. a way where he was not to messed with. his ripped white shirt with dirt on it and messy hair.
"he helped me get here." libby says quietly.
"nice to see you here." marcus smiled at me.
i look him up and down "wish i could say the same."
there was a boy that stood beside him, he looked quiet, he looks away from us and wander his eyes on the wooden house.
he had light brown hair, same color as his eyes. he wasn't so tall. but he was very adorable, with his oversized blue sweater and cargo khakis.
"he's the foreign exchange student from—." libby informs me.
his eyes widen softly. "birmingham." he takes his hand out for me to shake.
"hi birmingham." i was caught unexpectedly by his strong british accent. "i'm fate." i smiled, shaking his hand back.
he laughs softly. "no—birmingham is my area in the uk, my names charlie, charlie webb."
"good job genius." timothée snickered, laughing at me. "hi birmingham." he mocks me.
"fuck off." i look over at him.
"and there's the fate we all know." marcus makes a smart remark.
i furrow my eyebrows at him. "what is that suppose to mean?"
he huffed "still the bitter whore. fate being fate i guess." marcus says.
timothée walks over to him. "i don't think i heard that right." he says out of surprise. "say it with your chest." he says, his voice fumes with madness.
marcus chuckled. "dude i've seen you around school, once or twice maybe. i don't think you're familiar but that girl—yeah her. the one behind you. whore."
timothée pulls out his blade holding it to marcus neck. "take that shit fucking back, now."
marcus puts his hand up. "chill— fate knows i'm kidding." he says sarcastically, looking back at me.
timothée doesn't hesitate, pressing it closer to his throat. "we're waiting." he says, showing no remorse. he didn't give a single fuck about anything. i felt my heart race, hoping he doesn't actually slit it.
"that's enoug—"
marcus eyes showed he was becoming more terrified but kept his guard like the hard headed person he was. "calm down, shit. i take it back, okay?"." he mumbled, straightening his posture, furrowing his eyebrows at me.
"and now that that's over with—how's america going for you?" timothée turns around to ask charlie, putting the knife into his pocket.
