Pattern

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

// Prudence //

I hate Avery, and his tallness, and his hair and his shirts and the way he walks and expects me to follow.

"What is it?" I demand, as soon as we've exited the school gates, after two minutes of painful silence. 

"Well," He begins, pausing. I'm not sure if he's debating how to explain it or just trying to annoy me.

"If you don't spit it out, I will stab you."

"With what?"

"My dad's a cop, Avery, ever since the murders began, he's made me carry around a Swiss Army Knife." That was a lie, I'd made my aunt get me one for my fifteenth birthday. My father had no idea, though he made me text him every hour when he wasn't around to let him know I was alive and not abducted.

"Okay, fine, Ms. Lawless had a picture of Natasha on her desk-"

"What? That's .. creepy. Does she stalk her students or something?" I gasped. "Oh my god, is she the killer? But what kind of killer keeps their victims' photos on their desk? Isn't that a bit obvious?"

"Will you let me finish?" He grumbled irritably. I shut up.

"There was an envelope addressed to her. Inside it, was a picture of Natasha. A current one. Like, she was tied up and covered in blood."

I paled. "Oh, jeez. That's even worse. So, she's connected, then."

"Well, yeah. There must be a reason why it was left for her."

"Well, she's not the murderer, then. Unless she wants us to think she's not?"

Avery shrugged. "I know nothing. She seemed pretty shocked, though. All the girls were her students, and she said Natasha was one of her best."

"Hanna was good at English, too.. and Lucy had writing as one of her hobbies on Facebook.. maybe someone's targeting English students?"

"That's kindof a weird reason."

"Killing and torturing people is kindof a weird thing to do," I muttered. 

Avery said nothing. 

"Thanks, anyway," I said, with a half-smile. "For telling me. It's something to add to the mystery. Maybe I'll find a connection soon."

"No problem," He answered. "I guess I'll walk you all the way home."

"You scared I'm going to be kidnapped?" I joked. 

He looked down at me seriously. "Not exactly, but I think you should worry, at least a little. I mean, you fit the exact profile of who this creep is aiming for."

I stared at him, about to retort, when I tripped on a twig and felt myself lose my balance. I was falling, but a sudden hand jerked me to a stop, my hair nearly touching the ground. Avery was standing over me, grasping my hand, looking somewhat worried. His gaze flickered for a second, from my eyes, and down to my lips, but then he hauled me up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I responded shakily, wanting to ask him what the hell that was about, but I didn't.  I just put my hands through my hair, and looked at him. "This is my road, I'll go on from here. Thanks."

"Oh, okay," He said, getting the message. "See you."

"Bye," I murmured, too low for him to hear, and I went home.

--

There was a lot of times when I wished I had a mom. But it was something I'd grown to accept, and it didn't bother me much anymore. There was a picture of Claudie Holmes sitting with one year old me on top of the fireplace, but otherwise there was no other pictures of her around. She was so young in the photograph, just twenty-two. My dad had become a father at twenty, so I bet being a single one at twenty four hadn't been the slightest bit easy.

I felt bad for him, but I still found it hard to forget all the times he'd left me at home on my own so he could go to work. At the time, he'd been given two things to live for - me and his career, and he'd focused on his career. And that was pretty unfair, I felt, but it was the way things were. I think he regrets it now but he never apologised. I often wonder if he realised how lonely I got at home, in front of the TV, or how scary it was to be alone in the house when you're only six.

But it's better if he doesn't. I don't want to make him feel like a disappointment, since I had turned out pretty well in the end, at least I thought.

I did homework, and tried to study - I hadn't studied since last year, and though I didn't regret it, I didn't want to fail everything. I wondered what I needed to become a cop - I'm sure a skilled mind was useful. My dad hadn't gone to college, but it had been different when he was my age. I hoped that maybe all I'd have to do was a course, have good enough intelligence and learn to shoot a gun. Though having a gun slightly worried me, I doubted I'd use it much if I was an officer in Oaktown. This had been the most to happen in a long, long time. And I guessed it was a lot better that nothing ever happens, yet when something this big came up, it shocked everyone.

 Dad came in, earlier than usual. I looked up at him - he was exhausted. "Anything on Natasha?"

He shook his head solemnly. "Her parents .. they're distraught. Everyone knows what's going to happen, and it makes it so much worse for them.. I mean, they're just waiting on news that their daughter has been confirmed dead." He sighed. "Even if we found her alive.. what she went through would be very, very hard to recover from. She's barely fifteen, Prude."

"I know," I replied softly. 

"You're not to go out on your own, from now on," He said. "And maybe brush up on your self-defence."

I didn't object. It was the first time he'd ever encouraged my activities. 

"Actually, I'm trying to find a link between the murders at the moment," I said brightly. "But yeah, I will."

"Well, if you do," He said. "Tell me, cause we've nothing."

"I will," I murmured. "I think I'll go to bed now, though."

"Goodnight," He said, smiling at me. 

I went to bed, and stayed up thinking about the three girls. I felt guilty, like it was suddenly my responsibility to save them, even if it was too late for two. I could at least catch the murderer. And when I got determined, I didn't give up.