Eye of the Beholder [Completed]

Chapter 38

       Once again, I'm in my car and I don't know where I am going. I don't want to face my family right now. I don't want to be around Nathan. I just end up giving Nate the wrong idea every time I contact him....I feel like he still has hope that there will be an "us" again. That's never going to happen and I don't need to keep encouraging him.

In the middle of my mental breakdown, my phone vibrates in the passenger seat. I pull over on the side of the road. I pick my phone up and look at the text.

Samuel: Come see me.

I gulp.

Me: Okay.

I put my phone back down in the passenger seat and get back on the road again. This time I have a destination. A destination that I shouldn't be headed to, but a destination nonetheless.

What was the point of me going off on him if I was just going to come right back? The answer to that is I can't think straight when it comes to Samuel Richardson.

I don't see a vehicle in the drive-way when I pull up to the Richardson's home. I furrow my eyebrows. That's odd. Samuel just texted me to come see him.....I sigh and get out of my vehicle. I walk up to the front door. I ring the door bell. Five minutes pass without anybody answering the door. I ring the bell again. Just as I'm about to give up and leave the front door opens. My eyes widen at the sight that I see.

Samuel is in his wheelchair in front of me. "Where is your mom?" I ask. She never leaves him alone. "She's out with her friends." He tells me. "Why?" I ask. He laughs. He actually laughs at me. "Karrington, I am a grown man. I don't have to be watched 24/7." I raise my eyebrows. "How did you convince your mom of this?" I question, curiously. "It took a lot of yelling and screaming." He smirks at me.

I sigh. "I'm sorry for how I treated you." I tell him. His captivating eyes meet mine. "Come in." He motions his hand for me to enter. I oblige. I stand, awkwardly, by the front door for a minute. He watches me. "So, you wanted me to come over." I say, while playing with the hem of my shirt. I'm not looking at him.

He places his hand on my hand that was messing with the hem of my shirt. "Yes, I did." He grabs my hand. "Let's go to the living room." He tells me. He doesn't let go of my hand. Therefore, he is in his wheel chair holding my hand as we walk to the living room. Why do I like this so much?