True or False.

Chapter 5

Dinner is done. Time for the 'Discussion'. Please God save me. I am not that religious but right now I want to pray and probably even confess my mistake. Because this 'discussion' is scaring the living daylights out of me. Does anyone even say that?

On the bright side, I am alive and not poisoned after eating that stringy red goo. Okay. Weird. Now that I think about it. Why did my very Puerto Rican mother, who always insists on cooking only Spanish dishes to instill some 'cultural value' into me, cooked noodles in red goo? A dish she always told me that she would never prepare, mainly because I eat a little too much noodles. Actually, I eat a little too much of Chinese dishes and Pizza, I mean who does not. So, my mother preparing noodles in red color is very, very odd. Also, the color the noodles were in was extremely shocking for me. Especially because it was not spicy as I hoped it to be. I mean I would have understood the color if it was spicy, but no, it was just red colored noodles, which tasted so very weird. Almost rubbery, and stretchy, nothing like... technically anything I have ever tasted before. Wait so was that blood she used to make the dish? Nah! Mom would not cook a dish using blood even if pigs' blood. Then again that would not be the strangest thing happening today.

"So...ready to go?" Cloe asks flippantly might I add. I just raise my eyebrow, confused. Standing in my messed up childhood bedroom in my parents' house does feel very odd to have this 'discussion' yet I do not want to go anywhere with my now alive previously dead best friend.

"Where and why?" My voice comes out a little shaky. Understandable considering how scared I am.

"To your place. Duh!" I look at her confused. Why would we go to my place where there is no one? AKA no witness, if something were to happen to me. I am not saying something will. But then again, I didn't know people could come back from the dead. So, who knows anything anymore? Everything is possible.

"Why?" I ask folding my hands over my chest. A stance I assume whenever I am uncomfortable with anything. I know that and I know Cloe knows it too. Maybe that is why she raised her eyebrows with an amused look. Why is she amused? Isn't she angry with? Her mood swings are what is scaring me the most. The wink, the smirk, the 'I know something' look. And right now, I hate that I do not know Cloe as well as she knows me. And that speaks volumes about our friendship. Something I definitely should have realized before her 'death'. And now it's too late.

The amused look on Cloe's face is wiped when she notices I don't move. She just rolls her eyes. Again, with the casual behavior. "I didn't think you'd be comfortable letting your parents know what you did. Or that they were harboring a fugitive, a murderer, a killer?" Cloe blows air to her polished long nails, something I cannot recall if she ever had before. Weird. Why can I not remember her habits whereas she clearly knows all of mine?

"But I am not a murderer or killer, am I?" Cloe narrows her eyes to me, so I take that as a sign to continue, "I mean you are here standing so I clearly didn't kill you, now did I?" Now I am sure I hit a nerve as I see her stance change, her posture stiffens, and her face shows anger. She is full blown glaring at me. In my defense, I am okay with her being angry. I understand her anger. What I do not understand is when she was being so casual about it. Because that is scary, that means she is plotting something, more appropriately my destruction.

"I might be standing here, but you sure as hell killed me last night. You let me die. You left me there to die. You should've made sure that didn't happen, what happened. You told me there was no chance for it to happen. But you weren't sure, were you? You lied to me. And I paid the price. With my life mind you. And now you have the audacity to say that you didn't kill me?"

"Yet here you are." Why am I provoking her? What is wrong with me?

"Would you rather me be dead and you in handcuffs?" Cloe asks. Her voice is now an octave lower and sounding very sinister, weirdly. A shiver runs down my spine hearing it. It sounds like an ominous warning, and not my ex-dead best friend speaking. "I mean if you want it, I think I can arrange that. But where's the fun in that? Hmm?" Cloe smirks again blowing air to her polished long nails. Who is she? And what did she do to my best friend?