Perfection (Red Wrists 1 REWRITTEN EDITION)

Part Ten

"What?" I whispered, my voice hoarse from the fear that burned in the back of my throat.

"They're going to kill you Emma-May," Timothy whispered, his hands shaking. He gulp in a breath before continuing, "Don't think for a second I want to do this to you. Don't you dare think I want you dead." He took another quivering breath, closing his eyes and letting his raised hands drop onto his head. "Oh, god...." he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "What am I doing?"

His eyes opened once more, shining a dull pink from the tears. He stared at me for a few moments before slowly standing up. He didn't say anything, he didn't drop the knife; he simply looked away from me and walked off.

I watched him turn the corner and exit my field of vision before daring to make a move.

I stood up and began running back into the crowd of students only to smack face-first into Tim's jacket. I looked up at him, my brain processing the fact that it didn't continue forward past the corner. With my hands on his shoulders and my face in his chest, it felt almost comfortable. I felt safe.

"Who was that?" Tim grumbled, eyes narrowed.

With that, my mind snapped back into reality. This man has ignored me for a good month and a half now. No way in hell was I happy with him.

I jumped back, putting on a sneer as I retorted, "Oh what do you care? You avoid me for nearly two months and now you expect me to suddenly be okay with hanging around you?"

Tim was taken aback with my reply, but he seemed to understand my anger. He let out a sigh, whispering under his breath, "I can walk you home, if you want? I can explain on the way."

I grumbled a few colorful words, nodding in agreement. Yes, I was still pissed at him; but I wanted to learn more about him. And why he ignored me. He began walking off towards my house, so I began to follow him. Once we were a decent distance away from other students, he started explaining.

"Listen," he started, "I'll explain everything you want to hear. Anything and everything."

"So, about that crush those two guys said you had on me-"

"Anything but that," Tim snapped back, his face turning the slightest shade of pink.

I laugh softly, giving it a bit of thought. "So, how long have you smoked?"

Tim stared at me for a moment as if unsure whether or not I was being serious with him. Upon realizing that I was entirely serious, he replied, "Less than a year now. Not that long, honestly. Maybe five or six months? It was a dumb habit to begin. I just don't have any reason to quit right now."

I nod in understanding. Made sense to me. The day stayed bright and cheerful as we continued our walk to my house. Next question: "What are your grades like? You a nerd, Timothy Sanders?"

"No, I'm not a nerd, Emma-May Linn," Tim laughed. I was glad to see he was having as good of a time as I was. "I have average grades. C's. I am decently passing most of my classes with some wiggle room for lazy days."

"Sounds nice," I muttered to myself. I myself was a bit less on the grade scale than he was. With a louder tone, I continued, "I've noticed you looking really pissed off with your phone recently. What's that all about?"

Tim's face went pale. He stopped in his tracks, locking his eyes onto his feet. "Emma, I-... I'm not sure how to explain that to you." He took a deep breath. "There are bad people in the world, Emma. I'm not saying I'm one of them, but I do know a bunch of them."

Seeing how uncomfortable Tim was with the topic, I let it go, quickly blurting out, "Favorite color?"

"Orange." His reply was instant. He didn't hesitate. His eyes lifted up to meet mine, a smile growing on his face again. "That is the most cliche question to ask someone."

"I know, I know, but I couldn't help myself. You seemed a bit down in the dumps with the last question."

He nodded in agreement before concern began to cross his face. "Emma," he said softly, "who's that at your house?"

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, following his attention to the street in front of my house. A woman was stepping out of the car, a hammer and sign in hand. She walked up to the lawn, hammering the sign into the ground. What I saw on the sign made my heart sink. FOR RENT. "No," I shouted, rushing up to the woman. "No, no. There has to be some mistake! I live here, miss!"

The woman looked at me with an empty expression. "No, you don't. The tenants of this household haven't paid in months. We entered, and there was only one bedroom with any personal items in it. Everything else was stripped of all personal items. The room is presumably yours, correct? Bed, dresser, small room?"

"What do you mean they haven't paid in months?"

"Kid, I mean they haven't paid any of the bills in months. They just up and vanished. Broke their rental contract, too."

"No," I whispered, feeling my legs begin to shake. "No, I live here."

The woman shook her head and repeated, "No, you don't."

"They weren't my parents, but. But they were still my foster parents. They can't just leave me behind!"

"Emma-" Tim began, only for the lady to cut him off.

"Sucks to be you, kid. But you just don't live here anymore. We'll give you a few days to clean out your room, but anything you leave behind will become the homeowner's property."

Without another word, the woman turned, got back into her vehicle, and left.