After his parents' sudden death, Chester Covington leaves everything behind and moves in with his aunt.
But nobody knows what is going on behind the facadé of a traumatized boy who has watched his parents die that he puts up ever single day of his...
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I watch the sky pour down on the deserted streets of my neighborhood. Droplets of rain pound on my window and the rumble of thunder roars through the crisp air.
All the while watching the sky cry buckets of tears, I try to refrain myself from looking at Chester's reflection. But for the same reason that made me lose control just a few moments ago, I can't stop my eyes from wandering over to it now either.
His blonde curls are tousled up on top of his head, some of it falling in front of his eyes. His head is lowered and his shoulders are slumped, his lip getting assaulted by his teeth like he does every so often.
And before I can stop it, the thought has already crossed my mind.
He's cute.
Immediately, I curse in my mind as the familiar voices invade my thoughts once again. They always come out as soon as I do or think things that I'm not supposed to. They drag me back into that room in the depth of my mind and close the door behind me, locking me. On its walls there are all my flaws and all my mistakes written down; the amount of it is so much that it covers every single inch of the brick walls.
Soon, the voices start mocking and daunting me like they always do.
You're just as much of a psychopath as your father was.
I curl my fists.
You killed your own flesh and blood.
My fists uncurl, my lungs forcing me to suck in a breath.
You're a murderer.
My eyes find Chester's.
Everything you touch, you kill.
When he suddenly speaks up, I'm ripped out of my thoughts. "D-do you have a p-phone?" The stutter in his voice knocks on the walls around my heart, coming dangerously close to tugging on my heart strings.
I turn away from the window, facing the guy that I just can't get off my mind. "Why?" I question coldly. But as soon as the feeling of my fingers on his skin invades my mind once again, I can't help but swallow hardly, my features softening.
This whole thing just fucks with my sanity. He affects me, badly. And I don't even know why. I don't know why he hasn't run away yet, or why he isn't as afraid of me as much as everybody else is, or why I cannot harm him even if I tried, or why it gets me so worked up when he gets too close to other guys. I have no motherfucking idea.
