The Hauntings

Chapter 19

The black, shiny coffin descends into the ground, as the grey faces watch Nelson's broken body is finally being put to rest. The dark clouds, heavy with rain and the chilly breeze, associated with funerals, surrounds the mourners.

Elizabeth desperately bites her lip to stop the tears but she can't control them anymore. They flow down her cold cheeks. Someone gently takes her shoulder and turns her into their arms. She melts into their strong, warm embrace. Elizabeth doesn't know, who it is but she is grateful for his comfort.

Nelson was part of their team, he would always be there with his headphones hanging around his neck, pen scooped behind his ear, clipboard resting in his arm, at the start of every show. She might not have known him personally but he was a constant and was appreciated everything he did.

Scarlett must be hurting more than her. They had only been acquaintances but Scarlett had been so much more. Elizabeth has to be tough and pull herself together. She needs to give her best friend the support, that should have been given to her, when the tragic news first broke loose. She reluctantly shies away from the person, that is holding her so securely.

Looking up, Elizabeth is met with messy urban hair, black eyes and cheek bones to die for. The man from the club. The Francis reincarnation.

Elizabeth gasps, nearly tripping backwards to get away from him in her haste, but he grabs her arm to balance her. Feeling revolted, she shrugs him off brashly. The people surrounding them give them annoyed and disapproving looks. This is not the place nor time to make a scene. This is Nelson's day. Elizabeth swallows her rather loud outburst, slithering through her. She instead whispers furiously.

"What are you doing here? Come to watch your handiwork, it seems."

"Nope. Just came here, encase you might need me, like you evidently did." sliding closer, he smoothly ruffles into her ear.

"I don't need you." She sneers through tight lips, as she moves away.

"Didn't look like it, a minute ago. The way you just melted into my very my strong, masculine, muscular, sweet-smelling arms." He states, caressing her shoulder.

Elizabeth eagerly wants to run a mile from him but sucks it down. She is not done yet. She needs to ask him something else. Ignoring his intimidating proximity, she asks.

"You'ra not really a Collector, are you?" Her emerald eyes, penetrate into his darker ones, sifting for the answer on his face.

Once again he is captured by her gaze. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, trying to clear his closing airways. His heart beat increasing tenfold.

In a reflex reaction, he nods to confirm.

Acknowledging his movement she swiftly turns and around. Her soft brown hair slashing behind as she floats away, over the darkly dressed mass.

Bollocks.

What did she do to him? How had he given that way! What had he done? No, no this isn't good. Not good at all. She'll find out who he really is and it will destroy his intricate master plan. He desired, no craved, his revenge. Therefore it is compulsory that he receives it.

Oh Crap! Shit.

Francis edges away frantically. This could not go wrong. He had to do something. But the damage has already been done. The seed has now been planted and now it is germinating into the turmoiling thoughts from Elizabeth. She'll figure it all out. Then it will be ruined. Everything in shambles.

But wait.

This could go two ways. Francis halts in his quivering thoughts. Perhaps Elizabeth having the knowledge that he isn't, who he says he is, may cause even more doubts, confusion and distress, weakening her state of mind. Giving that final shove over the edge of the cliff to insanity. Maybe this is what she needs, more mental stress.