Gracie's Wings

Prologue

I couldn't see his face but I was very much aware that his eyes were peering at me. 

I studied him carefully. He was dressed in dark skinny jeans, vans, and his face was mostly hidden behind the hood of his sweatshirt. The dull moonlight was the only source of brightness within the vicinity, and the air was dense with a cold, harsh fog.

        His masculine features were mildly distinct, although quite noticeable. Unintentionally or not, his identity was protected for the moment. Although I was put into this unfavourable position, I knew my thirst for the truth was soon to be quenched.

        It was approximately 00:23. I was eight minutes late, but I had to make sure both of my parents were settled in bed before I could sneak out. I knew they would never of let me go, and I could understand why they wouldn't. This was dangerous. I'd admit I wasn't too confident myself. But they wouldn't of understood if I had told them about the situation. They would of gotten angry. Maybe even have gone to the police... Yes, they would of definately have gone to the police.

        Maybe that would have been the right thing to do, go to the police, but I thought it would of made things worse. I knew, of course, what this person was capable of, if indeed they were who they said they were in the anonymous text I received earlier that week.

But I had to know what really happened to Carter. 

Whatever the cost.

        I stared at him, expecting him to speak. The devastating notion of this being some sort of sick joke started to tug at my thought process. Was this guy just some asshole from school? Some jock who thought it would be hilarious to mess with a 'dead boy's' sister? I became slightly aggitated all of a sudden, just thinking of the disgusting and immature nature of the human being.

        I casually slipped my frozen hands into my jacket pocket not only because of the cold chill, but to see if my pocket knife was still present. It was, and I was prepared to use it if necessary. I started to tap the front of my foot off the pavement.

"You're late."

The voice was clear, yet silent. I did not recognise it immediately, but there was an odd familiararity to it. I thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that I knew this person. I felt unusually more vulnerable than previously. Maybe it was someone from school. Although, they didn't seem intimidating at all. They seemed very much serious. Nevertheless, it sent an eerie chill up my spine.

"I got held up," I spoke, quite angered at his abruptness, "No need to be so arrogant."

He looked down at his feet and gave out a smothered, half-suppressed laugh,

"Quite impudent for someone supposedly at risk."

I wasn't sure whether to feel frightnened, livid or upset. Was he mocking me? Was this a joke to him? Because, it wasn't a very funny one. I focused my attention on a flickering headlight in the distance, urging myself not to cry. I wanted to be strong,

"So you're saying you-"

"I'm not saying I did, Grace," he interrupted, brushing his hand over his mouth.

He seemed aggitated, as if I had suggested something completely irrelevant. The text I received earlier that week stated that he knew. That he would tell me. That everything would make sense. Was he even the one who sent them? This wasn't adding up. I saw him begin to twitch. Was he nervous? He buried his face in his hands and let out a long, muffled sigh,

"You're a bright girl, Gracie, and I don't want to hurt you."

I bit my bottom lip and choked back the tears I had contained for over two whole years now. 

As if I wasn't already hurt.