Deranged [n.h]

Chapter Fourteen

Going back into Niall's trailer once more almost felt like relief. But relief wasn't going to cut it. I needed to know what was going on; who he was. How we knew me. How a simple accident walking on the sidewalk led to me staying in his home overnight. I just needed to know.

We got back in and sat down on his couch, with what felt like miles of distance between us. He cleared his throat and I cleared mine, and yet the silence still remained.

"So," I said.

"Ch, ch, ch." he made a sound with his tongue.

"Look, I"

"No, listen. I don't know what came over me out there. I get if I startled you. I honestly can't come to why I did it, I was just..."

"Caught in the moment?" I decided to finish for him.

"Moment, that's for sure." He agreed.

"Look, i'll tell you about me, if you tell me about you." I said.

"What do you care to know- why do you care to know?" He countered.

"You think I wouldn't have the slightest suspicion of you if you ended up at my house randomly one day? Knew exactly where to go. What street to turn on. What house number. That I would be home, regardless it being a school day? Not even an ounce?" I fired back. He licked his lips, exhaling. I've seemed to cornered him.

"Fine. But you go first. What did your dad do?"

I sigh, running my hands through my hair, tugging then at the roots. I scan my eyes around rapidly, blinking multiple times. Where can I even begin?

I look over to Niall who is now leaning on his side, looking up to me, awaiting an answer. I decided to just go with it, being completely honest for once.

"Well, it all started when I was little. Back to the good days." I smile at myself, remembering. "It was before my mother died. My father was practically a workaholic; two jobs on end, with little to no rest hours. He would beat himself up working, that man. My mother would always say to him, 'Oh, Richard,' " I tried mimicking my mothers voice. " 'You need to sleep. God knows how much you've been working, how hard you've been working. It's too much.' He just wouldn't stop," I said. "Not for me, not even for her. So, him being like this, he was never around. Never home. Not even for my birthday." I laughed, trying to hold it all in. "But it all changed. Eventually. Recently my mom, uh, was killed in a drunk driving accident. She wasn't the driver, but the victim. She, uh," I swallowed, tears threatening at my eyes.

"Hey, it's alright," Niall said, putting his hand on my knee. "You okay?"

I nodded. "It's just," my cheeks felt red, "she was, just," I lost it. Niall pulled me in as I sobbed; tear-staining his light gray t-shirt.

"She wasn't ready, she could have never been ready," I sobbed. "And it's all my fault."

"Sh, sh, sh, sh. How could it be your fault, Margaret?" He asked, brushing his hand through my hair.

"I was the one she was coming to pick up that night. If I would have just asked someone else for a ride she would be alive. But I did it. It was me. She's dead because of me!" I punched my fist into his chest out of anger and agony.

"Margaret, Margaret, stop! You didn't do anything. I promise you."

"How could you promise me? You don't even know me, my mother." I looked up to him.

"Just, promise me, Margaret, that you don't take any responsibility for what happened that night, okay? Because you didn't do this. It was that drivers fault." He said.

I sniffled, nodding my head.

"Do they even know who did it?" He asked me.
"You know, who was the driver?"

"No, his car basically blew up. The car was stolen, also. They're trying to figure out who it is, but even if they could he's dead now." I explained.

I let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, for.. this." I said.

"Don't be. It's okay to cry." He assured me.

"Now," I kind of laughed, trying to break the subject. "Can you tell me about you?"

We were leaned back on his couch, his hand running circles on my back as I lied on his chest. We sort of fell into this position after I basically collapsed on him and didn't move.

"What do you want to know?" He asked.

"Just about you. Who you are, what you do."

"Well, I obviously grew up in Ireland. My family consist of me, my mom and dad and brother, Greg. Erm..." He zoned off. "I decided I wanted to be an architect so I moved here... Uh, that's basically it."

"Can I... Ask you something?" I said, getting up out of the couch.

"Sure," he replied sitting up.

I walked over to the table with photos of his family on it, along with the RIP cards.

"Are you and your brother twins?" He sighed, almost out of relief.

"Greg? No. He's about 4 years older than me, actually." He exclaimed.

"That's crazy. You look almost identical." I said, turning back around to gaze upon the photos. I picked up an RIP card, looking among it, but not opening it. He sucked in a breath.

"Did you have a recent death in your family?" I asked more quietly.

"Yeah, my uh, grandmother." He stated.

"Well why are they in your home?" I turned around.

"Uh, she used to live here!" He said almost with excitement.

"Huh?"

"She used to live here. This is her trailer. I moved in because my family couldn't bare to loose her... Valuable home." He licked his lips.

"Oh, " I said, blinking. He blinked back at me.

Something didn't feel right. That cold, feeling chorused through me again - the same feeling I felt just the day I met him. It was a twist- no, a knot in my stomach, tightening with every breath I took. My hearted pounded against my chest like a beating drum; pounding to the rhythm of the tainted clock hanging above the stove.

Tick-tock,

This feels familiar.

Tick-tock,

I stare at him, he stares back.

Tick-tock,

There's so many unanswered questions. 

Tick-tock,

I need to find out.

I place down the card.

"Alright," I say. "How about we play a game?"