Identifying Sara

Chapter Thirteen

I've counted 9 hours so far. I haven't left my room all this time, and I haven't stopped staring at the picture of my dad for most of the time. I can't seem to wrap my head around the idea of having these things so close to me, yet all these years i've never noticed anything to lead me to this box of belongings. My so called "birth certificate" and box of belongings have also made their way into my hands as time has passed and I begin to lose my mind even more then I already have.

My mother left the small house hours ago, leaving me hanging around alone, without a goodbye. Not that it would've mattered if she said goodbye or not, because the impact it would have made on my life would be too small to even be considered a difference. She left in such a hurry and with the worst horror expression plastered on her face that I have ever seen. I didn't ask about it though, afraid of my voice cracking or stuttering giving away any suspicions and causing her to stay longer. Now that she's gone, I can easily go with Carson and she has no say in it whatsoever; the thought makes me smile for indescribable reasons.

Leaving the house on it's own for the day seems like the perfect plan at the moment, if only it didn't give me small doubts and make my stomach twist. Of course there are flaws in this developing plan of mine; one of them being I don't have a phone, so if anything happens I'm as good as dead. Literally.

Suddenly the doorbell rings, making me groan because I know I have to get up and actually open the door for whoever feels like bothering me at the moment. It couldn't be Carson because he said- actually, he didn't say when he would be coming. But why would he come so early? I am not even ready and doesn't he have other people to hang out with during the day? I creep down the stairs wincing at the creaks every few steps make because of the lack of adjustment I have forgotten to make to the new house.

My fear begins to get the best of me, telling me Carson may not be the person at the other side of the door. As I pass through the kitchen, I grab the closest thing I can find to an imitating weapon; a knife. It may not do much, but it will definitely allow me to attack the criminal-if there is one- awaiting at the door and give me time run if I need to.

Taking a deep breathe, my hand touches the cold doorknob. My breathing hitches, this is it, you have to be strong Sara. I tell myself inside my head.

The door swings open and my knife is high in the air, aimed at the stranger. Instead of a kidnapper like I had suspected, Carson stands there casually with his hands in his pocket. When he sees the knife gripped in my hand about to fly at him through mid air, his eyes widen and he backs away.

"Whoa there! I was just here to pick you up! I swear!" He holds his hands up in defense. I lower the knife trying to calm my pulse that has decided to randomly speed up.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you." I say quietly avoiding his blue eyes that never fail to amaze me; that's something I refuse to admit out loud though.

"I see that." He eyes the knife, laughing. I glare at him mentally screaming at him for scaring me half to death.

After a long awkward silence of him standing out in the cold weather, I finally feel goosebumps on my skin taking me back to reality. "Wait are we leaving now?" I ask feeling my eyes widen without my control.

"Unless you want to keep standing here." He says looking around outside, shrugging. The sarcastic tone in his voice makes me roll my eyes before gesturing for him to enter before all the warm air from my house is gone.

"I don't need your sass," I say annoyed, "And i'm not even ready." Looking down at my jeans and long-sleeved black shirt.

"What's wrong with what your wearing?" Carson asks raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in confusion.