Make You Love

Chapter 03

"She's dead".
She is dead. Novah was dead.

Craig's first impulse push Isla away like she was some piece of trash. The news knocked air out of his windpipe, and he wasn't ready to believe it. Isla's first impulse was to flash a smile at him, throwing her hands around his neck.

Finally, her arch rival was gone.
"What? Don't you like it? Aren't you happy? I think she never really deserved you, and you're free to bestow your love on someone else. It's a shame you were so into her when she was alive."

Just like that, Isla had erased all feeling for Novah behind her as an item of the past. Dark circles pooled beneath Craig's eyes. The pity he'd had for Isla turned to hatred.

"You. Lying. Bitch," Craig cried, tearing himself away from the ugly creature hugging him.

Isla frowned.
"I wanted to make you happy, sweetheart. And I expect gratitude from you, not an attitude. Get a life, idiot. Novah was never your type. She'd have broken your heart, anyway."

He, who had always considered her as an angel, saw all evil and no good in her. He searched her face for signs of remorse. There were none.

"You killed her," he accused.

She was amused.
"That's nonsense. She was worthless to me," she deadpanned.

"You killed her," he repeated " Each time you mocked her all the way to twelfth grade. Every time you made her cry. For every tear you made her shed, every heartbreak and humiliation you put her through. All she did was love me, and you made her life hell."

He bit his lower lip, quivering because of unshed tears for his departed love. She had been so beautiful and pure.

His mind went on autopilot. He couldn't clearly remember his next actions of running to his car, jumping in and driving at a speed that could land his ass in jail for good three months. As at then, he was consumed by hatred for himself, for Peter, and even Isla. It dawned on him how important Novah had been, and he was just too preoccupied with Isla all along. He'd never loved Isla. Their friendship had been sustained by the absence of his heartthrob. When she'd appeared, he should have cherished her. He hadn't heard the cause of her death yet, but he was double sure that it was linked to him in some way or the other.

In the hospital, Peter was a mess of his usual self. He was traumatized by the sight of Novah lying lifeless on the white bed, hooked up to so many machines that had proved useless. Incapable of saving one of his friends that he cherished most. Fine, there was bad blood between Craig and him, but he'd always had a soft spot for Novah.
The padding of shoes over the tiles forced him to tear his eyes away from her corpse. He looked up to find a beefy man with long, dark hair, poised and serious. An investigator.

"There are a few questions you'll have to answer, Mr___"

"Sean."

"Right. Mr Sean."

Then he looked back up at Peter and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr Sean."

Mr Sean just nodded. His body felt like a log of wood.  The investigator jotted down something in the notepad. Then he told Peter he was sorry again.

"There's no need to be,"  Peter said.

Sadness pooled beneath his eyes, and he studied the investigator with a guarded expression, wondering where this would lead. Somehow, he wished this were just a nightmare that he'd wake up from soonest.

"I'm Detective Thompson assigned to special juvenile cases and whatever the hell you crazy teenagers do unit."

Peter could bet his ass that that wasn't in the unit's official description, but he knew better than to confront Thompson.