Little Red House

Chapter 10 - Dark Apples

Author's Note:   

 I am not fully satistfied with this chapter. Its kind of dry and a "filler". Editing will form changes in the future :)

Chapter Ten

The next day after work, I made sure to do some grocery shopping and pay for the late-due bills. By the time I got home I was weary and exhausted. I also thought about what Colin had said. He believed there was more to what Detective Madison was admitting to. Why was everyone lying? I was guessing the only way to get to somewhere was to talk to Erica directly, or Vanessa. Would she be willing to talk? Or will she just lie again?

I walked into the apartment and almost dropped all my grocery bags. In the living room sat Michael who appeared not to be drunk. He was chuckling at something the person across from him had said. Colin sat across Michael with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Um.. Hello,” I muttered. They both turned to me.

“Oh, hey Emma.”

Michael only nodded in my direction.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to yourselves,” he winked, grabbed a cold beer and dragged himself to his room. I sat down next to Colin and gapped at him,

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean”

“Michael sitting in here, looking more sober than ever. And he was laughing!”

“Well, we found a few things in common,” Colin smiled.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Apparently we both enjoy sports.”

“Sports?” I shook my head in disbelief. When was the last time Michael talked about sports? Or even just sat in his seat and talked about something simple like sports? I sunk into the sofa cushions. That was quite a change though I didn’t believe it would last long.

“You okay?” Colin leaned over me, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Yeah, yeah. Just surprised, “ I got up to make myself a snack, “Want a sandwich or something?”

“Sure.”

Soon we were munching on sandwiches as I complained to Colin about the bills, and my boring job, and all the little things that bugged me in life. He just laughed and shook his head mostly. When I finished, I realized Colin hadn’t said a word about himself, his family or simply his hobbies.

“What about you, Colin? Where’s your family?”

“Out of state, actually,” he blinked at me no emotion reflecting in his blue iris.

“Siblings?”

“Nope, I’m the only kid. Though I had an older brother that died in an accident.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I moved here not too long ago. I needed a fresh start somewhere quiet. This seemed like the perfect place.”

“Boring and dull. Why not the big city?” I rolled my eyes.

“Not my style,” he grinned and pulled out an apple from his jacket pocket.

“More apples?” I groaned, “What’s up with that?”

“What? I like eating healthy.”

“Then why do you leave them behind all over the place! I have a whole collection on my dresser,” I laughed.

“Really? Can I have a look?”

“Sure and you can even have them all, for what I care.” We walked into my bedroom. My bed was neatly made but a pile of clothes stuck from underneath the blanket. My desk was a mess with papers and letters. I ignored my lack of organization and pointed at my dresser,

“Enjoy.”

Colin came up to the dresser with his half eaten apple. He stared at the role of six apples. He gulped and turned to me.

“Emma. Where did you find these apples?” Colin’s tone was seriously low.

“Uh, everywhere? I don’t know; in the kitchen, at work, at that red house and other places. Why do you ask? Hadn’t you left them?”

Colin searched my eyes then called me over to the dresser. He took one of the apples from the dresser and compared it to his uneaten one.

“See how these are exactly alike?”

“Well, obviously,” I smirked, “They’re apples.”

“Look at the color. Its red and bright, like a regular apple. But look at this one,” he picked up another apple, “It darker in color. Look how the crimson is much darker than the regular apples.”

Now since he had mentioned it, I realized the apples were two different kinds. Some of the apples were bright red ones that Colin constantly eats and the others were darker, almost black. My eyes widened.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The apples I eat are regular ones you buy at the store. These darker ones are poisoned.”

“What?” I gasped and stepped back from the glaring apples on the dresser.

“It’s color is unnatural. And,” he sniffed at the apple, “it has a slight smell of acetone.” I came up and took the apple.

“Smells like nail polish or something,” I examined the difference between the apples.

“So, what you’re saying is that these darker ones aren’t yours?”

“Yes. Someone else has been following you, or at least going to the same places as you. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Maybe we’re just paranoid?”

“No. I know exactly who those apples belong to,” Colin stared right above my shoulder into the window. His orbits enlarged, developing darkness in his eyes.

“Colin, who do they belong to?”

He let out a shaky breath and pressed his lips together.

“Colin, tell me.”

“I can’t believe he’s here,” Colin’s deep voice enrolled into a growl.

“Who, Colin, who?” I placed my hand on his arm. He took a deep breath and his eyes found mine,

“Shadow.”