Mate Massacres

Chapter 30

The next morning, Krey waited outside of Pip's house, hoping he decided to go back to college. Francis watched from the woods. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn't see her.

Krey rubbed his hands together. The snow was already starting to melt, but the air was still bitter.

He checked his watch a few times, tapping his fingers on the crumbling front garden wall. Bricks had fallen off in multiple areas. The metal garden fence, no higher than Krey's waist was rusty and bent.

The front of Pip's house needed new paint, and the path leading to the green front door was uneven.

When the time comes to persuade Pip to live in the packhouse, Krey might not have a hard time convincing Pip.

He rechecked the time. At exactly 8:30 am, the front door opened. Pip tumbled onto the path with his bag in one hand, and his other arm trying to get through his coat sleeve.

He hasn't slept, Krey thought. Pip's blue eyes were still half-closed and droopy. His brown wavy hair resembled a well-build bird's nest. His cheeks, usually warm and rosy, were pale and probably cold. I've broken him.

Pip hurried down the path, frowning at the ground. He noticed Krey when he reached the gate. Pip jumped almost a foot in the air like the gate had electrocuted him. He didn't stop to hear what Krey had to say and ran back to the front door.

"Wait!" Krey yelled, but the front door shut behind Pip before Krey could get through the gate.

Krey grudgingly dragged his feet back to the woods, hunched over by the weight of his heavy heart.

"It's okay," Francis said, stepping into view. "You can try again later."

* * * * *

Pip ran back to his bedroom and shut the door. He sneaked to his window and peered out at the garden below, then to the woods beyond.

He saw movement, and watched the back of Krey and Francis, walking away from the house.

Pip watched Krey, moving peacefully along the trail Pip had made from years of running.

Krey then stopped and turned. Pip didn't think he would turn and look directly at him, but he did.

"Shit." Pip ducked and sat on the floor by his bed. For a split second, their eyes connected. "He's not going to hurt me," Pip whispered. "He's not going to hurt me. He just wanted to talk like he said in his text. Relax Pip. He's not a rogue dog like the one-" Pip shook his head, not wanting to think about the night his parents died.

Pip waited a few minutes, then peeked outside his window. Krey and Francis were gone, and Pip was now late for college.

He sank back to the floor, rubbing his chest. Pip had struggled to get up. Well, he had barely slept, but under his duvet was warm and safe and held no responsibility. Pip didn't feel well either. Being out in the cold wasn't helping him get better.

* * * * *

The next morning, Krey did the same. He waited outside Pip's house, trying not to pace and draw attention to himself.

Francis was back among the trees, the snow was a little more melted, and the air was a little denser and a little less chilly.

Krey unzipped his black jacket and crossed his arms, watching snow drip from the branches of a nearby tree.

At exactly 8:30 am, the front door opened. This time, Pip didn't tumble down the path. He poked his head from the door, looking at Krey with anxious blue eyes.