He's Always Watching

Chapter 22

"You, you really need help. Real help. From a therapist or something." I hated him so much. I hated him for everything he had done to Chris. Everything he had done to Olly. Everything he had done to everyone and how he had lied to all of us over the last few months.

"I know, but a therapist would never understand. They act like they care but really they're just doing it for the money. Although, I still have a few things I must deal with." He sneered. He completely agreed with me. How was he so calm? It was like he had planned everything out so detailed and perfectly that he had no way of making little mistakes. He was more than prepared. He placed the knife down on the chair behind him, before his hand dug deeply into his pocket. My breathing stopped. The tears that had formed in my eyes were now frozen solid, like ice. He was going to shoot me. I was sure of it. Just like in the dream. We had eye contact and then he shot me. This was it. It was over for me. I could have pushed him back onto the chair so he landed on the knife. It would have some way sliced him and inflicted pain upon him, which could have given me and Olly time to escape before he regained himself but I couldn't. I chose not to. I wasn't a murderer. I didn't want some killers blood on my hands. I didn't really like the idea of prison either. I had plans for when I left school. Great plans.

His hand slowly moved from out of his pocket. There wasn't a gun. I was finally able to breath again. He held his phone and unlocked it. He was typing away, so fast. He had basically remembered where every letter sat on the "QWERTY" keyboard. That's what happens when you're popular right?

"What are you doing?" I couldn't stand the silence. It was so quite you could hear a pin drop. I had to talk. Again. It was something I was actually good at in certain circumstances.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" He shot a look at me. Glaring at where I was still sat on the floor. I hated everything about him. His eyes the most. How they were full of coldness, cruelty and a thirst for blood. How had I never noticed this before?

"Well that's finally done. Soon everyone will be opening their tweeter to read my blog. They will all learn your dirty little secrets you all desperately tried to hide but so miserably failed." He smiled proudly. Satisfaction written across his face. He looked as if he had just received an award for saving out little town when in actual fact he had destroyed it.

He locked his phone and replaced it back in his pocket. He turned back to where the knife sat on the chair before picking it back up. It was then when I realised that he never picked anything up with his left hand. The knife was in his right hand. As was his phone.

"If you ever make it out of here alive, you'll learn why I chose them. You'll be thanking me for it. I can't promise if you will be alive though. You keep ignoring everything I say to you, so maybe I'll just have to kill you." He looked at me, a smirk taking over his lips. An evil, evil smirk. "You should have left with your mother and Elizabeth, Victoria. Tell me, actually why does she call herself Becca. I'm sure you must know considering you all used to have your girly talks every Friday at the diner." He was now looking at he knife in his hand. Twiddling it between his fingers. Not once touching it with his left hand.

Elizabeth. She was 2 years younger than me. Brown hair, slim. Big brown eyes. Beautiful. I loved her more than anything. She was my sister after all. She hated her name though. She insisted everyone called her Becca. She preferred it. We agreed to call her it. Soon enough she was known as Becca, rather than Elizabeth.

"Why do you care?" I retorted. He raised his eyebrow at me in enjoyment. Glad that he had gotten a reaction out of me.