Author's note:133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6hx7IdQDGb
He knew she called the police, uh oh.
Riley
I had been staring at the ceiling in my room for almost half an hour, Claire asleep in the guest room across from my space.
I couldn't sleep for the life of me... everything seemed so scary and nerve racking... The eyes of the boy looked so dark... like the ocean at night, but he seemed so young and kind.
But he also seemed so scary and intimidating.
Could he have been the killer? Was he the bad guy?
I couldn't really tell... It was horrible, not knowing. Everything seemed so off and confusing, and I intended to get an answer.
My father was murdered when I was around eight years old, and I'd been traumatized since.
When I was fourteen, I managed to start looking for the killer, and I found him.
It was some mugger... but he didn't really mean to kill my father; it was an accident.
I found evidence at a young age, and I managed to figure out who killed him within a week. When I told the police about him, they looked him up and found he had a major history of robbing and theft, and they caught him off guard.
He was in jail now, and I felt safer.
Until Bella's death.
Honestly, I felt like I was in one of those TV shows on that channel; the one that played murder mysteries and romances. Like the author in, Murder She Wrote, or the baker in, Murder She Baked, and the librarian in that other show, Aurora Teagarden Mysteries. They didn't need training to find the culprit, did they? Then why did I?
It's fiction, Riley, a part of me said. Seriously, are you going insane?
Probably.
Honestly, I felt like I was unsafe all the time. Every homeless person a murderer, every pedestrian a mugger; I never felt safe alone.
Could the boy in the mask know that?
Why else would he tell me if I "wasn't safe to bring a friend?"
Also, who was this boyfriend he was talking about? I didn't have one. Was there another guy stalking me?
Wow... my brain wouldn't shut off... I wasn't going to sleep, was I?
Well... that was nothing new.
All the sudden there was a tap on my window, and I nearly jumped off my bed before I saw a shadow out there.
He waved to me and pointed to another piece of paper attached to the window, jumping off the roof seconds later.
I shot up from my bed and threw the window open, scanning the ground for him, but...
He was gone.
Huh...?
I grabbed the paper and closed the window, opening the note and aiming the writing under the moonlight so I could see better.
Wow... called the police on me? That's rude, you know. You don't even know me, Riley.
Whatever, I get it. I know I'm hiding things that you can sense, and I get your fear, Riley. I get it.
I've done bad things, I think you should know. And I can't tell you those things I did because I know you won't understand. Not yet.
Just know this, my intent is to help not harm, I swear it. You won't know me for a while, but you will eventually. I swear, I mean you no harm, okay?
You just have to trust me.
P.
I stared down at the paper for a moment, going back to my window to gaze down at the trees where I saw him earlier.
He was there again... gazing up at my room with his blue eyes glowing in the darkness.
I opened my window, putting my hand out to gesture for him to stay, and I took the paper he left, turning it over and scraping a note back to him.
If you want me to trust you, tell me your name.
And I released it into the night, the wind blowing it down to him and he caught it, staring down at the paper for a moment before gazing up at me.
I watched in awe as he used the American Sign Language to spell it, and I grabbed the pen I was using and wrote the letters down on my arm.
P. A. R. I. S.
Paris? As in the capital of France?
I looked down at him, seeing his blue eyes reflecting my image even far below.
I knew learning how to spell in sign language would come in handy some day, and I signed back:
T. H. A. N. K. S.
He nodded in response, signing:
G.O.O.D. N.I.G.H.T.
I nodded, closing my window.
Paris... Paris... Paris who?
I knew he wasn't going to tell me that yet, and that name he gave me was probably a fake one; or one that he went by.
I already called the police on him, why wouldn't he expect I'd call them again and tell them his name?
Oh, well... It was something, at the very least.
I looked back to my window, eyes dimming.
I wanted to ask him a million questions, a million; why he was so interested in me, what horrible things he had done, who he was, how he knew about my interests, and what he knew about the murder of my best friend.
I ran over to the window, throwing it open to the cool, night air.
"Paris!" I called into the darkness. "Paris!"
There was no response.
My eyes stung with tears. Could I trust him...?
"Paris!"
Silence.
And I called one last time, "Paris!"
No response.
So I closed the window, sighing into my drafty room and stepped over to my bed, getting under the covers seconds later.
After switching off my light, I eased into my mattress, feeling a sudden cold consume me and I attempted to drape more blankets over myself, but it never left.
So I curled up under the sheets and held myself as my eyes stung.
Sometimes I wished I never broke off with Ryan... Because on nights like these—when I felt cold and icy and my skin stung with sorrow—I just needed someone to hold... and I got rid of all my teddy bears when I was fifteen; I was too old for them, anyway.
Everyone told me I was trying to grow up too fast, but I knew if I stayed a child I'd be dead right now.
Bella was gone... all gone... my father, too.
Sometimes it felt like there was someone after me, intending to cause me immense pain.
What did I do to deserve this? Why did this have to happen?
Hot tears slid into the pillowcase, and I clutched the pillow, beginning to cry.
"Hey," a voice said into my room.
I cried out, shooting up from the bed and scrambled to the headboard, covering myself with a blanket despite me showing no skin.
There was a shadow at the foot of my bed, and I breathed shallowly as he eyed me through the familiar mask.
Paris.
Though when I dropped the sheet as an attempt to scramble for something on my nightstand, I noticed his eyes travel to my chest, and then down further, until they drifted back up to my lips, then finally my eyes.
Why was something pooling in my belly with his stare?
This only happened at night... when I was in the mood to touch myself, but I shoved the thought away.
"How did you..." I said, voice shaking, "get in here...?"
"The window," he responded, nodding to it.
My eyes moved to the window and then back to him, widening when I realized he used his normal voice.
His tone was soft, but somewhat deep; it was a mixture between dark and soothing.
The pool inside me was getting hotter; I was nearly sweating.
I backed myself against the headboard when he stepped further to me and he stopped.
"You were calling me," he stated, "what did you need?"
When I was silent, he stepped further to me and I pushed myself further to the headboard.
"You're... crying..." he said then.
I pushed a finger to my eye and drew back, seeing the tip of my finger glisten with the leftover tears from my cheek.
I wiped my eyes almost violently before drawing back, gazing up at him with my eyes still glistening.
"Your friend..." he said softly, making me clutch my comforter tighter. "Her death was a while ago... but it's still fresh to you, isn't it?"
I gazed down at my bed, rubbing my arms uncomfortably.
"Are you cold?" he said, making his way over to the window and shutting it. "Is that better?"
But I continued to notice his gaze trailing my form.
My eyes shot up to him, and they dimmed in concern. "Who are you?"
"I gave you my name," he stated, looking at me now. "That is all I can give you, Riley."
"Paris..." I said, "is it fake or real?"
"It's what I go by."
Right, as I thought.
"What do you want from me?" I asked him.
He was silent for a moment. "You won't understand."
I gazed up at him then. "Give me a reason to trust you. A valid one."
His eyes dimmed. "I can't. You'll have to learn."
"I can't tell what you want," I told him, trying to understand this fluttering feeling he was giving me. "I can't tell what your intent is. If you want to kill me, then you're probably luring me somewhere. If you want to kill me, you would've already. I don't understand your motive. If you really want to protect me, why? Why me, huh? It's concerning."
He was silent.
My brows drew together. "Who are you, Paris? What are you to me...?"
"I know you," he stated. "You sort of know me."
"Paris..." I asked him, sitting up now, "will I see you again soon?"
He nodded. "You know me at school. You've seen me multiple times. And I'm in some of your classes."
"So I'll see you? Tomorrow?"
He nodded. "Yeah, and just so you know, I won't show myself to you until you recognize me. Only then will you know me," his eyes pierced into mine, "and you'll have to keep me a secret."
"How do you know I will?" I questioned more out of curiosity.
His eyes locked on mine. "Or you'll be punished."
"What does that mean?" I questioned.
"You know what it means, Riley," he stated.
My breaths quickened.
"I have to go now," he told me. "Stay here tonight. Don't leave the house until morning, got it?"
I nodded numbly, still questioning whether or not he was the killer.
"Riley," he said then, "everything will be okay. So don't cry, alright?"
I pressed my finger to my eyes, feeling my cheeks dampen suddenly.
I didn't even realize I was crying.
He started to the window, and stopped, clearly hesitating.
When he turned to look at me, his eyes were dark enough to look like the night sky. "Riley..." he whispered, clearly not wanting to leave me alone, "I'm sorry. I really am. I know you don't understand, but I just need you to know that everything will be okay."
"At least tell me one thing," I whispered, and when he looked up, I continued, "who's next...?"
His eyes darkened, but he sighed, hands twitching at his sides as if it was a nervous tick. "Claire..." he whispered, "Claire is next."
I almost screamed, but swallowed the urge down. "Who's the killer?"
"I..." he sighed, "I don't know, but I have a suspicion."
"How could you know she was next and not know who the killer is?"
He gazed at me. "I heard someone say it," he said irritably, "and I don't know who that person was."
My brows drew together.
It seemed legit... so why did I suspect he was lying...?
"Riley..." he whispered gently, "just trust me this once. I think you'll recognize me at school. So I'll see you then, yeah?"
I nodded, and he turned back to the window, hopping back onto the window sill and disappeared into the night.
I got off my bed and closed the window.
"Paris..." I whispered to myself, trying to remember, "blue eyes... white skin... Paris...."
I stared off into the night. "Why can't I place you...?"
But I shook my head, getting under the covers and pulling the comforter up to my shoulders.
"I'll find you..." I said to myself, snuggling into the mattress, "I'll find you, Paris."
Author's POV:133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBhJH7MAfEe
Hello lovelies! Just wanted to check in and ask if you like this so far! Leave your thoughts!
133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuYgFJRlCJG
