Beautiful But Deadly

Chapter Six

VI
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All I could hear in my mind were Masons words as we cruised along. Be more careful. I don't think he would've considered me letting Blake drive me to his house as 'being careful'.

His car was different than I had imagined it would be. It had a fresh smell, and was pretty clean overall. The dark leather seats tied together the clean-cut exterior and the inside. I was pretty impressed, honestly.

I looked over at him while we drove, observing how his jaw naturally clenched and unclenched with his movements. His features were highlighted in the glow of the randomly dispersed street lights.

"Thanks for, ya know, saving me and whatnot," I smiled over at him. He looked at me and then back at the road.

"Of course," he replied with a stiff smile.

"Am I an idiot for getting in a car with someone I've barely met?" I asked bluntly. He let out a chuckle.

"Yea, probably," he shook his head in amusement as we turned into a small motel-looking building.

"This it?" I referred to the place.

"Yup," he answered shortly as he parked the car. I watched as he got out of the car and came around to my side, opening my door and leaning down to help me out.

"I can get out by myself, thanks though," I told him, getting out of the car with a wince and closing it behind me.

"Right, well, welcome to my humble home," he said sarcastically as we walked up to one of the doors. I could tell he had some sort of inner aggression towards his living situation.

He unlocked the door and opened it with ease, flicking on the lights and swiftly grabbing some clothes that were on the ground, throwing them into a hamper.

Like his car, it smelt surprisingly fresh and clean. When I saw it was a motel I had expected it to smell as musty as they usually do. Mason and I had found ourselves stationed in a motel more than a few times over the years. It was always the absolute worst.

The walls of the room were beige, the rest of wood furniture a light brown with a dull floral bed comforter. There weren't many customizations around the room, which reminded me of my own room back at the institution. The warm lighting of the lamp softly lit up the room.

I sat down on the bed with a plop, deciding to ditch the fake wincing.. it was getting pretty old. Blake walked into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. He stood in front of me and looked me in the eyes as if asking permission. I gave him a smile and he knelt down in front of me, bringing it to my bloody knee. It did sting a little as he gently pressed on it.

"So, who was that guy?" I asked, referring to Richard. I watched him as he was concentrating on my knee.

"He's a friend of my dear old step-dad's," he started. "It's kind of hard to explain, but I think he might've had something to do with the disappearance of my mom," he continued, looking up to meet my eyes. I searched them for any underlying emotions.

"She called me right before she disappeared," he told me, standing up. This caught my attention.

"What did she say?" I asked, trying my hardest not come off as too intrusive. He shook his head.