FORBIDDEN: The Stowaway PART ONE

Chapter Twenty-One - Zay

Peter and I planned to meet up the night I killed him. Six weeks after Lillian's funeral.

Peter said he wanted to see me. That he missed me. That he was sorry for how things went down between us the day of Lillian's funeral. How he almost raped me because he was sad.

Sad, my ass.

Asshole.

The only thing he missed was the heat between my legs.

But I gave in. I planned and plotted and met up with him in his dorm room.

There was a power outage that night.

Lucky me, right? So no cameras were on.

No cameras meant I wouldn't have to break into the security room and erase the footage.

I'd go to great lengths to figure out what I was convinced he did to my best friend.

What he did to me.

I met up with him to hear him out at first. To hear his apology, to get his statement. I just wanted to hear it. I just needed the truth about her death to come out. She didn't kill herself. I just had to prove it.

Peter was in his boxers when he answered the door, sliding his arms into a t-shirt. "Hey."

I pushed past him, my phone's flashlight guiding my way.

He lit candles and scattered them around the room. I should've been nervous. I didn't have anyone to protect me if he tried to hurt me again. But by the regretful look on his face, I didn't think he was going to try anything.

I sat on his bed and shut off the flashlight on my phone, basking in the darkness lit only by candlelight. "What am I doing here, Peter?"

His breathing shook as he moved closer to me, hesitantly sitting on his bed, too.

There was this look about him.

Nervous.

Distraught.

He was hiding something.

"They cleaned out Lillian's room and didn't tell anyone. Her parents took most of her things, but whatever was left, they tossed in the garbage." He shook his head. "Someone else is in the room now. Can you fucking believe that shit? It's been seven weeks since she died. Seven! God." He scoffed, shaking his head.

I gasped, placing a hand on my heart and fighting the urge to scream. "Where's her stuff? The stuff her parents didn't take?"

A lot of her stuff was in evidence. Most of her room was left as such until they deemed it a suicide and let her parents take things. I had things of hers I wanted to keep as a memory. It took them almost seven weeks since she died to clear out her room as if we'd all simply forgotten about her, like she didn't exist. Like her room was just a space that needed to be filled by paying students.

Peter got up and took a box out from his closet. "I took whatever I could salvage."

He placed the box between us and we stared at it for several seconds before I dove in and took the stuffed animal he bought her from the bookstore on their first date.

"You got this for her."

He nodded, taking it from me. "I remember that night. She was so nervous, she kept calling me Potter."

I laughed, digging through the box. "Yeah, she had a thing for Harry Potter and thought you looked like his hotter older brother."

His laugh spread goosebumps over my skin.

Crawling.

Digging.

Irking.

I had major regrets about my decision to kill him.