Ditching Greek | editing

45| Repeat of History

Clyde's P.O.V.

I didn't know if it was the annoying as hell sun, shinning right in my fucking face, or the muttering noise of Nabella talking in her sleep that had caused me to wake up earlier than I intended to.

It didn't matter what it was because now I was wide awake, starring at my lopsided ceiling while the rest of the houses on our street slept peacefully. I was thinking too much to sleep like the rest of them. Carefully, I get Nabella's head off my chest in one swift motion, slowly enough to not wake her. I paused at the foot of the bed, observing her hug the pillow beside her just like she'd just held onto me.

After a short break to the restroom, I headed back to my room to get my phone and a hoodie, then I went down stairs and flipped on the TV. I made sure the volume was low as I surfed the channels and tried to find something suitable to waste my time with. Unfortunately there's fuck-all to watch on a Saturday at four a.m. other than those obnoxious infomercials that tried to suck out all the money in people's wallets.

I settled with CNN, but turned the TV on mute. News was better that way.

A buzzing noise rang from the phone in my hoodie. I brought it out and pressed talk without really looking at the caller ID.

"Hello."

There was laughter. Then a voice I knew all too well spoke up, "Hello? Why don't you tell me a much more heartwarming greeting. It had been...what? Almost eight years now?"

"Who is this?" I questioned, but I didn't need to ask. I knew who it was. I'd know that voice after fifty years even.

"Don't play stupid, Clyde. You were always seen as the bright, chosen one, weren't you? I'm sure you can figure out who I am."

"No, it can't be." I said this more for myself. "Phillip died."

"No, you mean almost died." There was another dark, husky laugh. "You're alone right now. Sitting in the living room. I know you are. Everyone's asleep in that house in Vancouver. Why don't you say it out loud? You tried to kill me. And may I say, you did a hell of a good job for a fourteen year old."

"How do you know I'm here? Who the fuck told you?" I grumbled.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out." He said. "Oh. And be sure to keep that Helen of yours close if you want her to live this time around. She already died once. You shouldn't let history repeat itself, now should you?"

The phone went dead. I rushed to check who the caller was. I gazed at the phone number. It read Private Number. There was no way I could call them back.

***

nabella's P.O.V.

Letting out a loud, slow yawn, I stretched out my arms, spreading them out wide and far. My hand fell flat on the space against me, expecting to find the warmth of Clyde at my fingertips. But instead, my palm smacked cold surface. My head sprung up, scanning the room around me in search of Clyde. I called out his name once, but I didn't get a response.

"Clyde?" I said again, pushing the bed sheet up to my chest. Glancing down to my scattered clothes, I rushed down to pick them up and quickly put them back on. Just as I finished buttoning my jeans, I started to hear sound coming from down stairs. I cracked the door open and went down the steps, leading me to the noise pouring out of the kitchen. I poked my head in and spotted Clyde, working behind the stove. A smile crept on my face-I tried to desperately to wipe it off, but I couldn't.

In three long strides, I was directly behind him and wrapped my hands around him.

I could feel a laugh rumble out of him from the hands molded around him. He jumped at my touch for some reason, then relaxed when he turned to see it was only me. Why was he so scared?

"You're up earlier than I thought you'd be." He beamed. "I was going to make you breakfast in bed."

I craned my neck to the left and witnessed him flip the omelet in the pan. To the right of me, there were already two other plates of pancakes and a tall glass of orange juice. The smile I had on before had tripled in size, and I had no intentions in hiding this one.

"You know what I've realized?" He asked out of the blue.

"What?"

"You talk in your sleep. No--correction. You half mumble , half talk in your sleep. For the most part, I can't tell what you're saying but only a few words."

"Yeah. I know I talk in my sleep. I used to go to sleep overs at Monica's place and would always bring up what I said the morning after." I rolled my eyes and picked up a slice of toast and bit into it. Moving from behind him, I lifted myself up on the counter top. "She even recorded me once, determined that I was having a sex dream .... I swear my friends are so weird."

Clyde refrained from laughing. "I can't lie. I'd definitely record you while sleep talking if I thought you were having a sex dream."

I flicked his ear. "That's mean."

He stepped toward me and planted a soft kiss on my lips. "Like I said before, I never aim to be nice."

He raised his hand up to my chin and wiped off the crumbs from the toast. "You've been quite nice lately," I remarked.

"Are you suggesting that I act like a jerk? Because I'd gladly take up that offer." He winked and returned back to the stove. Getting a new plate from one of the wooden cabinets, he retrieved a green plate and rested the omelet perfectly on to it.

"Where is everyone else?" I asked, glancing around the empty kitchen. I didn't hear any footsteps when I came down here and I hadn't seen anyone after leaving Clyde's room.

"Everyone went to the old farm house to do the final touches for the haunted house." He glanced over at the time on the microwave that read 12:18. "Which will be starting in seven more hours."

"Have you decided if you want to go or not?" I hopped off the counter top and walked over to the dinner table with the tray of pancakes and toast in hand. "I'd really like to go see what's the big fuss with the haunted house business. Also I didn't meet Lydia yet or your uncle."

Clyde went for some forks and knives and met me at the table, holding the plate of omelets in the opposite hand. "You really want to go?"

"Yes," I grinned, taking a sip of the juice. "What's wrong with me wanting to meet them? I met the others."

"You met the normal ones."

Both my dark brows nearly hit my hairline after hearing that statement. "Your cousin Lynn likes making curses and when I first met Felix, he was hanging upside down on the front porch. I hate to break it to you, but I don't think any of them are normal."

"Good point." He reached over to the plate of food I'd brought over and picked up a slice a toast, munching down on it. "Shouldn't we just stay in for tonight though? We're out of town for the first time in forever. We should do something for just the two of us. Better yet, let's actually go back to Oregon."

I laughed ....until I noticed he wasn't laughing with me. He was serious. What had gotten into him? Where did the sudden urge to leave come from?

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