Revenge[√]

The Truth Comes Out (Finally)

A\N: Hey there...This gif is for those who cried or at least felt sad for a second when Ozzie died. R.I.P Ozzie👯

I turned off the laptop and went looking for Mark. I found him on the kitchen counter, listening to music from his black iPhone.

'Where's Sam?' I asked, giving him back his phone.

'I sort of ignored her. I think she left.' He said, putting the blue one into his jean pocket.

'I know I've asked you so many times but why are you still dating her?' I asked, opening the fridge and grabbing the custard carton.

I sat down opposite Mark and drank straight from the carton.

'I-I... it's complicated. I made a promise and I have to keep it,' he said, stretching his arm out.

I gave him the carton and thought as he drank. 'Where does she live? Who are her parents? We hardly know anything about her.'

Except that she's an annoying bitch. I thought.

'Well she's from Canada and her parents are dead. She lived with her aunt before she came here. She's living on campus now.' He said, handing me back the custard.

Before I could ask, my phone beeped in my hoodie. I took it out and saw that I had a text from Josh.

Josh was the name of a P.I I had hired to find out what happened to the nun that took Mark and Marcus Matthews in. I clicked on it and read.

64 Trust Ave.-Address at the time of death. She was living with her granddaughter when she died at this address.

Call for more details.

'I gotta go. I need to go return those books to the library-I just got a text from Jody.' I said.

'Cool,' Mark said, grabbing the custard and putting his headphones back on.

Surprisingly, the address wasn't far from my house-just a couple of blocks away. I walked there and prepared myself. The text hadn't said if the granddaughter was still alive or anything but I just had to go and find out. Something about Marcus Matthews was bothering me.

I rang the doorbell and wiped my feet on the welcome mat.

'Hello can I help you?' a woman in her 30's asked after opening the door.

'Yes. I'm looking for Gladys Goodman's granddaughter. Do you know her?'

'Why do you want her?' she asked suspiciously.

I couldn't blame her. I wouldn't trust some teenager with a short skirt asking around. She probably thought this was some sort of prank.

'I need to ask about her grandmother. See I'm investigating someone she met when she was in Columbia.'

She looked me up and down then let me in.

'I'm her granddaughter. Have a seat.' She led me to the living room and offered me an ugly-looking sofa.

'I need to know what she thought of someone she met.' I said, not sure what to do now that I was there.

'I don't know about anyone she met in Columbia but you can check her diary if you'd like.'

I was stunned for a second. I hadn't thought that she would've trusted me so easily. I guess I was very likeable.

'Yes please. That is if you don't mind.'

'Of course not. You might find something useful.'

She went off for a few minutes and for a second I thought she had called the police.