Behind The Gun | H.S (ON HOLD)

6: Goodbye.

- Quinn

"Quinn?" I hear someone whisper from above me. "Quinn? Precious?"

I grunt lowly, turning so I face his direction. I keep my eyes closed already knowing it's Foster stood before me. "I just wanted to say goodbye." He whispers. "Can you look at me... please?" He pleads.

I open my eyes slowly, obliging to his plead. "Hi." I whisper.

"Hi precious."

"Hi, Foster, are you okay?" I ask concerned as his eyes scan over my face, as if trying to memorise it.

"Yes, I'm going now and I wanted to say goodbye." He nods over to the suitcase and bag sat next to the door.

"Oh... bye Foster." I whisper. "Don't miss me too much!" I joke, snuggling further into the bed.

He laughs, keeping his voice low he says. "And don't miss me too much! Now listen, while I'm gone you must do everything Oliver tells you - ok! He will keep you safe and he'll always be there for you. No matter what, he has been instructed to make sure you are safe and healthy."

"Will do." I reply, not thinking much about what he just said as I begin to close my eyes again. Carefully, Foster walks back to the door picking up his bags. Just as he goes to shut the door I mumble, "Love you."

To which he opens the door wider, pocking his head around the corner. "I love you too." He responds.

Although it may be weird to some, I see Foster as more of a father than my own. He has cared for me and been there more than anyone else. If I could decide who my father was I would choose him, easily.

When I was young, I became infatuated with love after watching a marathon of love films; I would tell everyone and anyone I loved them even if I didn't know them. When I started saying it to Foster, it just stuck. After years I started saying it less, but moments like these I feel the need to let him know how much I look up to him; to show how important he really is to me.

As he closes the door again, my eyes close and I drift back to sleep.

When I wake up again, the room is lit by the sun seeping through around the curtains. I lazily sit up against the headboard. To the right of me, in the corner, is Oliver sat asleep in the armchair. With nothing to do and nothing encouraging me to get out of bed, my mind wonders.

If it were really Kylie who stole my things, should I tell my father? Should I tell him it had nothing to do with these threats above my head? But why would she write the note saying; a spoilt brat like me, deserves nothing.  What have I ever done to her? She knows I don't enjoy my lifestyle so surely I'm not spoilt even though it can seem like it.

It all just confuses me more because she never acted that way; she did have that one day, the last time I saw her, but before that she was always bubbly and full of life. I don't honestly know how I feel about it all as there are too many questions floating around my head.

And then Foster this morning, his goodbye seemed more dramatic this morning than any other time he's left. Almost like he wasn't going to see me again, which most likely means that whatever he is doing up in Manchester is dangerous. Feeling bad for my weak goodbye this morning, I reach for my phone to text him.

Me: I'm sorry for not being fully awake this morning, but be safe and I'll see you on Friday!

Happy with the message I hit send; I put it back down just as Oliver grunts stretching his arms out, awaking from his slumber. "Morning." He grumbles.

"Good morning!" I enthusiastically say. Feeling happy I can now talk to someone; rather drown myself in questions that I can't answer and think of theory's that are so farfetched that I should stop watching drama's on TV. At this rate I could probably write my own series.