Wishful Thinking

Five

The evening's events replayed in my mind, Over . . . Over and over again. Every time I thought about it, I was angry, I hated everything. I hated that Joey is gone, I hate the moment I found out who my dad's killer was, I hate that I went out in the first place. God, I just wanted to punch the wall, If only my hand didn't hurt. Slowly as each scene replayed over and over, my thoughts turned sad. Maybe it's because I know -kinda know- who the killer is, but I didn't do anything to avenge my father . . . or maybe that I didn't avenge my dead childhood. My thoughts still lingered on this evening's events as my eyes began to droop and finally gave in to exhaustion. 

★

I opened my eyes to a bright room. Ugh . . . the sun. I turned to my side to look at the clock, 7:30 am. A thought nagged me and I look at Julie's empty bed. Last night's encounter resurfaces and guilt and regret consumed me. 

What have I done?

I sat up with my body protesting, it feels ten times worse than yesterday. As much as I was tempted to stay in bed all day, I needed to talk to Julie and apologise, even though she was acting strangely. Last night was the first time we argued . . . like truly argued. It's never happened in the history of our friendship . . . and the thought of it scares me.

I just need a shower, hopefully, it will jolt me awake. I grabbed a black shirt and ripped shorts despite the weather and went to the bathroom. After the shower, I grabbed my brush and ran it through my wet hair.

I stopped midway as the memory of yesterday's brawl came back to me in a whirlwind, I gasped, Will!, He completely slipped my mind.

He saved me.

Now I owe him, at least a thank you. It's not every day someone saves you from gunpoint. It's not like there's a correct way of expressing gratitude for that. My ideas for a thank you that came up are mostly girly things, like flowers and cards. I don't exactly know what to give to a guy who risked his life for me. Come to think of it, what do you give guys in general?

I thought about giving him a call but then I remembered that I don't have his number. I didn't exactly have the time or opportunity during our conversation to exchange numbers, so I have no way of contacting him. There's a slight chance of running into him again, if I could move at all, but another reason against going out and finding him was going out. I'm scared for life, there was no way I'm going out . . . at least for now.

Shame rushed through me as I recalled me running away. I shouldn't have run off. I should have called the police or yelled for help or something, instead, I took off like the coward I am. I left Will there to fend for himself, I ran off not knowing if he was okay. Worry filled me, but then again, Will told me to run anyway, If I stayed, I could have made things worse and end up killing both of us. A toyed with my cross, running my thumb over the details and engravings trying to seek guidance.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

A light knock interrupted my train of thought. Ms Davis appeared leaning by the door, she looked calm. . . too calm.

"How are you Camilla?" suspicion ran through my head, this is new of her.

"Bruising here and there but I'll live," I replied,

The corners of her mouth tugged up a little, "That's good to hear," there was a moment of silence, tension was thick like fog. Things were getting awkward, so I decided to break the silence,

"Is there something you wanted to talk about Miss?"

That seemed to snap her out of her daze, "Ah yes, I have something waiting for you that will cheer you up." It wasn't really excitement, but it was close to it. "Follow me,"