WHO KILLED VICTORIA? | Complete

Chapter Forty Two | She Died

Victoria's POV

20 Days Until Victoria's Death...

My heart beat twice as fast when I saw him, standing there with no emotion on his face. He looked like death took the shape of a human being. "Hey," I tried, but he just walked into the house and ignored me. I felt sorrow and despair rush through my veins, eating me up alive bit by bit. His scent, the same as always, was so fresh and filled with sadness. His eyes didn't lock with mine, and he didn't share the smile I tried greeting him with. The one emotion that wouldn't leave me was fear.

Fear that he might think I killed Isabella, that I could have the power to push my once-called best friend off a cliff and act so unbothered by it. Fear of him finding out about what happened in this house. He threw himself on the couch like a man who just came back home from a busy day at work, acting so normal and natural, like this house is the same place he once called home. He didn't give any attention to the mess, or the smell of weed and alcohol, but what baffled me was how he never noticed the smell of her flesh as it sat there in a plastic bag beneath the couch he laid on. Or could he have already noticed but was in too much pain to care?

I tried to push myself, to move and sit next to him, but my feet simply wouldn't dare move. I was stuck at the door as the memories of him came back like a tidal wave, killing me slowly. I finally found the power within me to close the door, and the second it banged shut, he turned to face me. His eyes locked on mine, but not in the same way they used to. When he used to look at me, I felt loved and safe. Now, all I could read from his dreadful eyes was that this might be the last time I see the light of day ever again.

"Why did you do it?" he asked. I wanted to act foolish, act dumb, but I knew what he was gesturing. I knew he was asking about Isabella, and nothing hurt more than the man you love asking you if you killed your best friend.

"Do what?" I tried, but before I could take a step forward, he got up.

"I asked you a fucking question!" he yelled. "Why did you fucking push her?" I couldn't hold the tears in any longer. The second he raised his tone, I crumbled to the floor and cried rivers. The pain was unmeasurable. I felt like I was suffocating, but the worst part was worrying that this was the look he gave Christina when he had his arms wrapped around her neck as he suffocated her. Was I going to share the same fate as her? Or was he going to spare my life? Was I going to be killed by the man I love in my own home?

Questions wouldn't stop playing in my head. I kept picturing him beating me to death, but minutes went by, and I realized that I hadn't said a word back to him. I was just crying on the floor until I looked up and saw that he was no longer mad or angry. He wasn't even looking at me. When the blur caused by the tears finally faded away, I noticed what he was searching for.

"Samuel—" I cried.

"What's that smell?" He looked baffled, confused, searching around the couch like an animal sniffing out its prey. Time stopped passing. My thoughts stopped racing. My heart beat slower — and then he lifted the couch, exposing my darkest secret.

"What's in the black body bag, Victoria?" he turned to me. All the color drained from my face, and I knew at that moment that I couldn't lie to him anymore. I couldn't come up with some sob story for him to come running to my rescue and tell me it's okay, I understand. I couldn't have him anymore, and it killed me.

I crumbled to the floor and hugged my knees, waiting for his tone to go higher, for him to start yelling and breaking things. I buried my face in between my legs and cried rivers, ignoring all hints of existence around me. I was patiently waiting to die, and then I heard the body bag unzip and Samuel taking two steps closer to me. I could feel his warmth. I knew he was close enough to touch me, to hit me until I bled, but he didn't.