"You know, what I really crave for at the moment?"
I whispered with a smoky tone, leaning closer to his non-existent face. "Your death..." My tone became quieter as I jabbed the knife into his torso, repeatedly.
The dark reddish blood was flowing...
“Sometimes we lie to the closest people to us so they won't worry about us.”
╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌
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ꪩThe eerie manܝ ܝ
I was traumatized by his phrase, what did he mean? Our eye contact continued through the extended silence. I leaned closer to him without breaking gazes, my brow as arched, and arms crossed over my chest.
"Who are you?" I finally spoke.
"Take a seat first," he suggested. He returned to his bonded leather executive office chair and took a seat while I just flumped into the chair above the bureau.
"Tell me." I was determined about how he knew about me, and what he meant by waiting for me.
"I'm an old family friend, and I know you are Sienna's daughter. In your point of view, the murderer." He started to unravel his earlier phrase.
"Isn't she?" I squinted at him.
"Shouldn't you be the one answering that?" He gave me a half-smile, his gaze was tracking mine.
"Are you saying she didn't do it?" My brows knitted together, his way of speaking was creepy. He just made you ruminate by his questions, as he didn't give an actual answer.
"I don't know, but the Sienna I knew, wouldn't kill anyone. At least, not without a reason." He spoke as if he knew my mom well, which made an odd feeling form in my stomach. I had never been curious about my parents, but the more he talked, the more I pondered about them.
"How well you know my mom? What about my dad? Why does everyone keep telling me about her but not him?" I exploded at him while my hand squeezed into a fist.
"Are you ready to hear about him?" Again, he responded with a dippy question.
"You love asking questions, Mr. Graham" I pressed my lips together and I bit my tongue gently.
"Peter, I’d prefer it if you called me Peter. And no, I absolutely don't."
"Then why you keep answering my questions with other questions?"
"Simply, you know all the answers and not me. I know only the past which is different, and I ain't planning to tell you it at the moment. I want you to remember, Daisy." He was well-versed in making me confused.
"I don't want to." I was disinterested in reminiscing about what had happened. I knew it would affect me lousily, I was still seventeen.
