Cruel Me

Chapter 10 |Part 1|: Who You Are (junior year)

(junior year)

He's here.

I knew it the moment I saw his shiny silver Corvette parked in the gravel driveway of the house. It had been two months since I've seen him last. He called to check in every week and all. But it felt like an obligation, you know?

I climbed out of my matte black BMW M3, stopping to stare at the house for a second. The exterior was a combination of brick and wood. Blue roof. Brick walls. Wooden floor. It looked hella cozy. Too bad it was a manipulative bitch, just like its owners - me included.

Honestly, though? I'd gotten so used to having it all to myself for the past years. Sure, it was lonely as fucking hell sometimes. But having someone in the house who also owned it felt sorta awkward now, especially when that someone was just as fucked up as I was.

Good thing they didn't usually stay for long whenever they visited.

I sighed, dreading seeing him. Out of the four of us, he turned out the worst. Shaking my head, I walked towards the front door and swung my keys around my forefinger.

See, the thing about this house was that it was quiet. Sure, it was fucking huge. But you would definitely know if someone else was home - if you could even call it that.

The moment I opened the door and stepped foot inside, I heard a faint murmur of the TV in the far right side of the house. The gym was there. Typical.

Wanting to get this over with, I headed to where he was. With him here, the elegant house felt foreign to me as I walked down the main hall. The walls had been white for as long as I could remember.

When someone mentioned their childhood memory, it was usually a pleasant one. It was automatic. Most kids played outside and got dirty, waited for ice cream trucks, and just did whatever silly thing they could get away with.

But whenever I thought of mine, the only things I could recall were the lessons in the afternoon, fancy dinners I could care fucking less about, and high school parties I was way too fucking young to witness. I remembered being reprimanded once for playing tag with the kids at school. Don't get me wrong, I was allowed to play. I just wasn't allowed to look like a slob while I was at it. Fun, right?

Well, at least they gave a shit back then.

I could hear my older brother's feet pounding against the equipment as I neared. I quietly pushed the glass door and entered the gym. My eyes settled on the guy running on the treadmill.

He was facing the window, with the view of the swimming pool. His broad back was covered in sweat. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only sweatpants and sneakers. He was bigger than me by a couple of inches. But I was quickly catching up.

"Been a while."

My head snapped up. He didn't turn around, nor glance in my direction, yet he knew I was here. If I wasn't so used to it, I'd be creeped out.

"Speak up," said Clyde.

I didn't.

"You're not gonna say hi to me?"

What's the point? You're gonna leave, anyway.

He shook his head and chuckled in amusement.

Damn. It was scary how much Clyde and I looked so fucking alike. I was literally the younger version of him. Our only difference was; he looked like a goddamn saint - which was way fucking far from it.

That's the thing about Clyde, though. He's deceivingly charming. He'll hook you in with his angelic smile and good manners. He'll make you think you're his friend - and you'll trust him. Completely. Only to bite your fucking face off.