Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter six

Chloe

     THE realization hit me like a tidal wave—crashing and relentless. My whole world teetered on the edge of disaster, unraveling thread by thread. I knew what Justin would do if he found out who I really was. The lies I spun were already dragging me deeper into the quicksand, but I couldn't stop now. Not when the consequences were so terrifyingly clear. I knew them the moment he told me his name.

"Call me up when you find the girl, Jay." Jett's voice cut through the still air like a blade, sharp and dripping with venom.

He smirked as he pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, the lighter in his hand flashing a garish lime green. His movements were languid, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to wreak havoc. He lit his cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face—a mask of smugness. Yet Justin didn't even glance his way, treating him as if he were no more than a speck of dust on the floor.

I crouched behind the car, every nerve in my body taut, straining to remain unseen. Jett's voice carried a strange mixture of rage and mockery. I wasn't sure if his anger was directed at Justin, me, or both of us. My stomach twisted in knots, growling faintly, a cruel reminder of how little I'd eaten.

"Get off my property." Justin's voice was low and calm, like the rumble of distant thunder—a warning that didn't need repeating.

My breath hitched as Jett turned and began walking away, his boots crunching against the gravel. My relief was short-lived, my pulse still racing as I watched Justin retreat into the house without sparing me a second glance. When Jett's silhouette finally disappeared at the end of the street, I bolted from my hiding spot. Sprinting up the porch steps, I pushed through the door, panting as though I'd been running for hours.

Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of wood polish and old coffee. I veered into the kitchen, finding Justin seated at the circular table, utterly unbothered. He sat alone, casually biting into a glazed donut, crumbs scattering across the table. The sight of him—calm, almost bored—made the chaos outside feel like a fever dream.

He didn't acknowledge me at first, but when I moved closer, he finally looked up. His dark eyes met mine with an expression that was impossible to read.

"Back from an afternoon stroll?" His tone was dry, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath, my chest heaving.

"You sure do like running," he remarked, popping the rest of the donut into his mouth and crumpling the empty bag in his fist. He tossed it onto the table carelessly, where it landed with a lifeless thud. For a moment, I envied its stillness—no racing heart, no fear clawing at its edges.

Clearing my throat, I shifted my weight awkwardly, hoping he'd notice my hunger. As if on cue, Justin gestured to the bag of food sitting on the table. "Here. Eat."

I sank into the honey-brown chair beside him, eyeing the bag cautiously before finally reaching for it. Inside, I found burgers, fries, and chicken nuggets—a feast compared to what I'd been surviving on.

Justin leaned back in his chair, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket. For a brief second, my breath caught, irrationally expecting him to produce something far more sinister. But instead, he slid the money across the table toward me. "And take this."

I froze, staring at the crumpled bills. My mind raced with questions—where did he get this kind of money? Was this what he did when he disappeared for hours? How could someone with a house devoid of groceries have this much cash on hand? But I didn't dare voice any of them.