At the age of 17 Mariana Deliro is given a multi-million dollar company, by who? That's anyone's guess. Money may seem like a blessing but don't be fooled, it's a curse in disguise. With money comes: lying, deceit, betrayals and even a twisted myste...
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I get a notification on Jackson's phone and look down at it.
Blaine: open up I'mat the door.
I open the door just a crack to look through and check. Blaine, who's already stood at the door, takes the opportunity to barge in and then he quickly locks the door behind him.
He takes in my appearance, the blood staining my body before noticing I have no top on and averting his gaze.
"Where did your shirt go?"
"I took it off to try and stop the bleeding."
"Weren't you cold?"
"I-I don't know, probably but I wasn't really focused on that at the time." I'm still not.
He takes off his shirt, leaving him in a tank top. He holds out his arm for me to take it. "Here." He says, still not looking at me.
"If I put this on it'll get blood on it." I warn.
"I'm not bothered." He says and so I put it on. His face turns to looks back at me when I put the t-shirt on, the size of it practically drowning me. "Is it your blood?" He asks.
"No." It's Jackson's.
"What the hell happened?"
"I don't have time for you to hate me." I say quietly. I don't even know how I would begin to explain everything. "I need to get out of here or everything's just going to get worse."
"Tell me what happened and I'll get you out of here."
"Promise?"
"Promises don't mean anything but sure, you have my word."
"We were following a lead and when we were done he went outside. He apparently saw something so went into the woods. I followed after him and there was Tyler, he pulled a gun on me and fired it. Jackson jumped in the way. H-he got shot because of me."
"And Tyler, what happened to him? Did he run away?" He questions.
"No. I killed him."
He pauses for a moment, seemingly kinda shocked at the words that just left my mouth. He regains his composure, the hard look returning to his face. "Have you killed anyone before?" He asks.
"No." I whisper.
"How do you feel?"
Empty.
"What I feel doesn't matter. Jackson is in surgery and is almost dead because of me. Tyler is dead because of me. More people are going to die because of me if don't get out of here and help them." I say, my panic rising.
"That's a dangerous way of thinking, you know? You're not responsible for everyone else. Their choices lead to yours."
"You said you would help me, are you going to or not?"
