Thirteen-years-old, Connor Wolfhard, a considerate and magnanimous teen, trying to cope with the enslaved power of a merciless creature. With the abidance of detest, deep-rooted for his contentious mother, and intricate in an explosive concocted sto...
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E L L I O T
I averted my gaze from my phone to Thibbault sitting next to me, a worried expression plastered on his face. His eyes were fixed on nothing particular but it seems like he was in a deep-thinking.
"Is everything alright, bro?" I cocked my brow at him, questioning.
"Yeh. Where's Connor?" He asked.
"Probably upstairs. Did something happen between you two?"
"No, nothing. Why?"
"He has asked me about you too, just a while ago." I shrugged and went back to my phone.
Dad entered the living room, his eyes scanning the room with confusion when his eyes landed over us.
"Where is Maverick?"
"He's at his friends house." Thibbault answered.
"That's why there's peace in the house." He said, chuckling slightly.
"Wanna fight, Dad?" I smirked. "There won't be peace anymore."
Dad rolled his eyes but couldn't help the chuckle escaping his lips. "Do you wanna order something?"
"Of course. I'm gonna order Italian food. It's been a while since I've eaten it."
"What about you, Thibbault?" Dad asked him.
"I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat anything later." He said, walking upstairs towards his room.
"I'm not used to this silence." Dad said, scepticism lacing in his voice. I agreed silently.
"Anyway, go and ask Connor, what he wants to eat." He gazed to Thibbault's room and let out a sigh.
I headed up the stairs towards Connor's room. I tried to open the door but found it locked.
Doubt rises in me.
Why is his door locked? He never locks his door, even not sleeping at night.
I knocked on his door again, anticipation filling through me.
"Connor?"
No reply. My heart's pace picked up. I knocked once again, cold perspiration beading my forehead.
"Connor? Open the door." The silence was really unnerving to me.
Without wasting time, I spun on my heel and quickly went downstairs and found Dad, sitting on a couch, working on his laptop.
"Where have you kept the spare keys for all the rooms?" I asked, breathing out.
My breathing becomes shallower by the second. Dad looked up from his laptop, frowning.
"Why?"
"Connor's door is locked," I said, getting impatient as my Dad slowly absorbed the piece of information.
