I'm 16, my mother is mad and I am a murderer, problem? -ON HOLD-

I'm 16, my mother is mad and I'm a murderer- Part 6.

Chapter 9- Bethany.

I press the doorbell again. Dave finally comes to the door and lets me in. He looks better than any photo he's ever sent me. His eyes are a dark shade of brown, none like I'd ever seen before. His skin flawless and his lips the full perfect shape. He smells wonderful and his house does too.

I look inside his house. It matches his beautiful persona. It is perfectly clean and I can see he is in the middle of eating. His food is left half finished on his coffee table.

There is music on in the background. I recognise it as Beethoven. I wonder why he listens to such dramatic music alone but I just brush it off as a personal preference. 

"Thanks for this," I say.

"The pleasure's all mine. It's nice to meet you after all these months of talking on chat," he awkwardly laughs and I find it cute. 

"Yes, I agree." I am not really in the mood to talk. I just want to dry my clothes and go to sleep. 

As if he senses my exact thoughts he says, "woah, your clothes are wet! I would offer you some spare clothes but I don't have women's clothes," he laughs. I just smile, secretly disappointed.

"I could offer you a shirt of mine to wear, if you want," he adds. 

I had no other option so I say, "okay, thanks."

He goes into another room and comes out with a dark shirt.

"You can change in there," he says and points to a bathroom. I thank him and go to change. 

His bathroom is in even better condition in comparison to the rest of the house. It looks almost as if it is part of a different house, and I admire the fact he keeps it so clean. It shows some part of him is immaculate. His bath and sink are gleaming white, almost to the point its bright façade sting my eyes. 

I walk over to mirror as soon as I remember I must look repugnant after sitting out in the rain. Sure enough, I am right. My mascara has slobbered all down my cheeks, concealing my rosy red cheeks. My blue eyes look atrocious, full of tears. My hair is stood on it's ends as if all the static electricity in the room caused the individual hairs to repel each other. I look at myself in disgust. Has my appearance really stooped to this new low? I am grateful nobody saw me in the streets, however. I turn the taps on and splash my face with water, capturing all the single flakes of make-up sitting on my face, and removing it effectively. I wipe my tears away and dry my eyes. There is no comb to deal with my hair so I simply put it back in a pony tail. I look in the mirror and see I am now at least presentable. My wet clothes are causing my skin to shiver though so I pick up the shirt Dave gave me and look at it. I freeze. What am I doing? I am in another man's house who I've never met before in person and I was about to put on his clothes. Am I really that desperate? Have I really lost all common sense to put myself in such a situation? Of course I can see Dave is a lovely man, but is that really a big enough reason for me to stay over in his house? I can't believe how stupid I have been so I hold onto Dave's shirt and walk out the bathroom. 

'Oh hey, how come you haven't changed out of those wet clothes? You must be freezing'. He says, oblivious to my mind's workings. 

'Sorry, I have to go.' I avoid eye contact with him because my feeling of ungratefulness is becoming immense. He looks at me, confused. His eyebrows scrunch up in an entangled mess and he brings his thumb and finger to his temple, pressing tightly. 

'What do you mean? Where are you going?' He asks with a forced smile. His face becomes imperturbable and indifferent. His eyes now look like dark pebbles, with no emotion. He looks like a completely different man than that I saw at the door.