19 Chapter Nineteenth

"I… I… I can't…" I gasped, choking "This can't be…" hands to my head, clutching my own hair by the root, seemed to make reality less dormant "This isn't happening!"

Chris patiently watched, waiting for diction to return, like a teacher who won't interrupt a slow student by providing the right answer.

"Is… is it?!" I turned, asking, hyperventilating. "Is it… true?!" I pursued when his amused eyes merely watched, wordless.

At so blunt a question, he couldn't possibly remain indifferent – instead he pursed his lips, as if I'd introduced an awkward subject he preferred not to comment on.

That silence… that mildly amused smile… the calmness and the utter lack of urgency in catching my fall, in dissuading me from those awful things… it made me nauseous!

I pressed my hand against my mouth, holding in a gag.

"Oh God!" I sobbed, hugged my aching stomach and folded over it as it ached.

"Hey now, shhh… it's okay…" Chris stretched a friendly arm to solace me. As soon as his hand touched my shoulder, I yanked myself away.

"Y-You did it!!" I screamed, hysterical. "You really did it, didn't you?! Oh my God!!"

An impatient sigh, disturbed by my loudness:

"Did what exactly, Abby? Let us see how much you've heard!"

"Y-Y-You…" that word… that searing, lancinating word. I felt I'd die before I could pronounce it. "You've killed them!"

"Them?" He probed nonchalantly; hands tucked in his pockets again.

"Girls! Women!"

"I see…" he nodded, looked astray, as if pondering "That cop of yours, he… specifically told you I've killed girls, or…?" he puckered his lower lip, speculating.

I was confused, sore… tortured by his cool countenance.

"W-what? What are you saying? W-why would you…"

"I'm just trying to piece together what you've been told." He shrugged, interested "Is that all you've heard, did the conversation end there, or…" he moved his hand in the air, incentivizing me to go on.

I felt tested… played. That whole conversation – the sheer fact it was happening – was so surreal!

"No, he…" I tried to soothe my inflamed brain into thinking "he said you… he said you did things…"

Chris listened with a pensive, observing countenance, as if he investigated it. My eyes grew moist… it was hard to see clearly:

"…but… you did it, didn't you? Kill them?"

What a strange phenomenon to move my heard then: belated hope!

For one split second, Chris seemed so calm, so inquisitive, I almost believe he would say…

"…no".

"…Yes." He sighed, looking down, running his hand through his hair.

"Oh!" That single, desolate sound left my chest – my heart faltered, sunk, cold, low – so very low inside me.

"I'm afraid it does come down to that, yes…" his eyes skidded sideways, finding me, marking my reaction.

I tried to find the wall with what little strength I had left – to escort me. The room wobbled before my eyes.

"It's not the endgame, if that's how they've put it…" he produced an awkward smile, seeming almost embarrassed of the misconstruction "I don't go around fantasizing about killing them, when there's so much more to do, really. But in the end… there's not much else that can be done. You can understand that, can't you?" he glanced sideways, his half-smile, suggestive, disturbing me.

My nightmares… they solidified! All while Chris stood there, a proud, smug smile stretching his lips. He wasn't nervous, he wasn't scared… nor was he at all angry that I'd found out. Instead, his eyes watched me with an amused interest, mapping my reactions as I crumbled, weeping, repeating that terrible sentence until it sunk its scorching claws into my numb brain:

"You're a killer!"

I mumbled it – repeated it until I was so weak not even the walls could hold me.

"I guess you can see why I've had to lie to you…" he explained like someone offering an apology, only his countenance didn't change to match the sentiment "…But we did have our fun, didn't we? We've shared some good times, playing this game of grownups… of being whatever we wanted to be, hiding our true selves, huh?"

I looked up at him from my pained corner, my eyelashes moist with tears.

"After all… we were both pretending, weren't we? And we both did a damn good job at it, too!" he scoffed.

I paused, my brain decelerating, stopping to listen and somehow managing to spare an extra ounce of alarm at what he was about to say:

"What? Are you so shocked over my own discovery? Then I'm afraid I'm the nobler one here: I'm not so surprised you've discovered mine! But I guess you underestimated me, while I… I could always see you for the smart girl you are!"

I frowned, too slow to follow.

"Don't let me undermine you though: You've been equally good at keeping your secret. Or rather… you would have been, if it weren't for that one slip!"

I watched him, crying selfishly ceased, a trace of shame still finding me there, in spite of my state.

"You're just a child… aren't you?" he sentenced.

I breathed, looked down, about myself… scared.

Chris chuckled.

"Yes… you are. I know it now."

And to further my discomfort, he pulled out his wallet, sifted through it, and pulled my own I.D. from it.

"Fourteen!" he read with a frown, a painful mockery. "No wonder the world is so scary to you…and, ironically, so worthy of trust! A confusing age to be in, huh? Too old to follow rules… too young to understand why they exist in the first place! For starters, you don't let a man into your house…" his head shook lightly to corroborate the seriousness of his recommendation, while a fun smile conveyed how glad he was that I had "…you don't let him know you're all alone in the world. You don't facilitate things like that!"

A short, heartfelt laugh broke through him, humiliating me further.

"But I should have seen it sooner. No 17-year-old is so scared of their parents. They're not usually so scared of sex either… Not at first."

That word… it made my cheeks burn, my heart throb. I panicked, lunged for my I.D. Chris pulled it from my reach a second before I could catch it.

"Nuh-uh!" he chuckled, stepping back, and I cowered away, shrinking, scared, into myself. "I'll hold on to this for now. Safekeeping."

I crawled back towards the corner of the walls, sunk my fingers into my hair, thinking – no… merely despairing!

"Look on the bright side: You don't have to worry about your mother. You won't be in any extra trouble because of who I am, and because you've helped me escape that very unfortunate slight at your school that could have been my undoing: She will never know! I won't be here when she finally comes around!"