Matt & Doe | Complete

Chapter 12

Matt's POV

Roseline had been giving me the silent, or as Isaiah called it, the 'professional' treatment. Meaning, she only spoke to me when she absolutely needed to.

That morning I woke up earlier than I normally would, to rush to the café and buy coffees for the both of us. Still, because we lived in Ostville, I couldn't beat the long lines. By the time I made it to Hannah's room, Roseline was gone. I had given her enough time to dress and leave an hour before her shift.

Sulking, I arrived at the orphanage and handed the steaming cup to Isaiah instead, who eyed me at first then shook his head in pity.

“Tough luck,” he shrugged.

“That's it.”

Before going over to the kitchen, I slipped into the bathroom.

“You've done it now, Matthew,” I said to the mirror, after splashing my face with the chilly water.

Nearly a whole week into our argument, Roseline could barely even look at me. One would expect a dedicated Christian to be more forgiving, right? Wrong. Hypocrite.

Before I could even take two steps from the washroom, I was surprised by Helen. She folded her arms, glancing at me top to bottom.

“Helen?” I scoffed, looking back at the door and then at her, “Can I help you?”

“No,” she squinted her hazel eyes, raising her chin suspiciously at me,“So how'd things go?”

At first, I was caught off guard.

“What?”

“Last night.”

“Fine.”

I attempted to leave our conversation where it was, but she wasn't done yet.

“Matthew,” I heard her call and I stopped in my tracks, “I hope you know whatever you're trying isn't going to work.”

“Is that a threat?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

“You decide.”

Helen gave me an evil sneer, her mixed curls swaying as she walked off. How unattractive.

I went over to the kitchen, which was relatively empty apart from the fundraising team and a couple of teenage orphans. The room filled with low murmurs and laughter as I retreated to a corner, reading the day's menu. My eyes lingered across to the shifting system. Roseline was already signed in. Great. I placed my guard up again, straightening my posture.

I plated eggs and toast, then sat alone. The silence was temporary, as Isaiah slid into the seat right beside me.

“You know, I think that lady has something up with me,” I confided in him, scraping garlic butter across a slice.

“What lady?” he stuffed a spoon of cereal into his mouth.

“Helen... the one who screens Jack?”

“Oh. What did she do?”

I told Isaiah about our interaction earlier, and he suggested something I hadn't even considered myself.

“Maybe she knows you? Or someone in your family?” his deep eyes, filled with curiousity.

“I don't know... probably my father. But she's too young,” I thought again, “Plus, Isaiah what would that have to do with me?”

“I'm not God. I can't tell you,” he leaned back, “Ask her.”

It was then that I looked up and spotted two well-known, coffee-coloured eyes spying on me through the glass in the kitchen door. When I stared back, they fled.