Killer, Killer, Kill Her (A Luke Hemmings Fanfic) {MAJOR EDITING}

Ready To Party

Thoughts of Joey with Michael, plagued my mind. Images of her kissing his cheek and holding his hand, when she should be holding mine. I was the first one to see her, to befriend her; I was her first boyfriend. Okay, that one wasn't necessarily true but, it might as well have been.

Was Michael there when she was in the hospital? No because I was the one who put her there. Was Michael at the park that day when she was babysitting? No because I was the one who offered to help her. I was there for Joey when nobody else was. I was there for Joey when the world seemed to be pushing against her, watching for the day that she messed up. It has always been Joey. And I have always wanted her. Not the way Michael wants her.

I wandered through my house, picking up the scattered traces of clothing that littered the ground. I turned on some music, hoping that it would help to drown out my thoughts.

"Because music is your escape right?"

Well, of course.

"You just don't want to think about the fact that maybe--just maybe--Michael is better for Joey than you are."

I flinched and curled my lip. No he is not! He will never be better for Joey than I will! He will break her heart and shatter it into a million different pieces. He's the worst possible match for her. And I would know. Wouldn't I?

I scrubbed the dishes in the sink and then dried them, putting them away in the cupboards. Once I finished, I wandered back to my room. I heard my phone chime with a new message. I wiped off my hands and ran my fingers through my hair before I checked it.

1 New Message!

I swiped it open and read the contents, my stomach tying itself into a million knots. My brow furrowed and I felt my heart skip a beat. My palms grew slick with sweat, my throat constricted with a bundle of thick tears.

Miss me, Lukey?

How the hell did he get my number? I change it periodically at randomly scheduled times. There is no way that he could have gotten it and contacted me again. No, not again.

You look nervous, you okay?

My head shoots up, looking towards the window across from me. He was here? And he was watching me?

I slam my phone down on the counter as it starts to ring, nearly peeing my pants with fright. I look at the screen and see the same number. Do I answer it? No, no I do not.

I let it go to voicemail.

1 New Voicemail!

I shudder and set my phone down on the counter again, this time carefully so I don't have to buy another one. My body feels too hot, my skin is starting to burn. I shake my head again. This is not happening. Not again. Not now.

Hurrying over to the window, I draw the blinds and twist the latch. That felt better. I look around and start making my way through my dimly lit house, locking doors and shutting the blinds. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up and I know for a fact that I am being watched. But, by who? And why?

Venturing down into the garage, I double check the lock on the secret passage. But, that isn't enough. No, nothing will ever be enough. I start grabbing things and putting them up against the door. Old paint cans and tool boxes that I stack on top of each other. A barrier is good, in case he somehow gets through. Is that even possible? No. But, it doesn't hurt to try.

There. I'm finished. I hurry off towards the garage door and lock that behind me once I am inside. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling sick to my stomach with dread and fear. I stand alone in my kitchen. When the air conditioning kicks on, I jump, looking around frantically as if he had bashed in my front door. But, he hasn't and he won't. My phone rings.