Perfect (Rewrite)

Chapter Seventy Six

"How long until we're ready?" Margaret asked, stuffing a few pair of clothes from her closet into a drawstring bag which had been so kindly offered to them in a parcel the day before.

"In a couple of days at the least," David answered, stroking his chin. A little scruff had popped up recently; he was given a razor to shave in the same package the bags had come in. It had arrived the day before, filled with handy supplies.

"Don't you think it's strange?" Margaret asked, but David didn't seem to understand. "It's like he's preparing us to leave, why?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's very suspicious," She tried. "Maybe we should just stay here."

"We can't stay here forever."

"I know, I know." Margaret folded another pair of jeans and packed it. The bag was full after only three pairs of clothes; she would need more if their journey lasted longer than a couple days, but there wasn't anymore room. Each of them had a box of granola bars and three bottles of water buried amongst their clothes. Collin's bag contained more bottles of water and a few peanut butter sandwiches along with his stuffed rabbit, six pairs of baby clothes, and half a box of diapers, packing light was his only good feature. "Should we leave earlier than planned. I mean, he's listened to every single bit of our scheme. Maybe that's why he's making it so easy. He already knows every step of the way, stopping us wouldn't be more than a snap of his fingers."

David grabbed Margaret's waist, spun her around, and plopped a fat sloppy kiss on her lips, shutting her up and keeping her calm. She couldn't have another break down. Margaret had been having them recently, fighting against the system, yet she hadn't been pulled out. He had taken her away and given her the second strike she should've been given. It was only a matter of time before one of her outbreaks would end with violent acts; David needed to keep her calm, happy, loved.

"What was that for?" Margaret asked after they both pulled away.

"Just something to remember you by," David answered. "In case the worst happens." 
 
"It won't," She replied.

"I know," He said and then kissed her again. "I know."

-----

Chloe entered Margaret's old room, Rachel's old room, and approached the bed. Someone had pulled a sheet over the top of her body, it clung to her skin tightly. She wished it hadn't still been there; it was only a reminder of the horrible act Chloe had committed. It didn't do her any good to visit her. Rachel was no longer in the body.

She pulled the sheet away from her face and gasped in horror. Her skin was paler than anyone's she had ever seen. It wasn't a pretty sight, but Chloe didn't mutter under her breath or complain in a manner of disrespect. She believed in the afterlife, and even though Rachel hadn't liked her, she hoped she was dancing around in heaven, rejoicing in her paradise she so rightfully deserved after having lived in this hell for a short eternity.

A tear rolled down Chloe's cheek. Why was she crying? It was the third time she had visited Rachel's resting place in the past two days. There wasn't anything new to be seen, yet it still got to her. It wasn't the fact that Rachel was dead, it was more of the memory of how it had happened. She glanced down to her fingers and curled them into a fist. Why had she killed her? Why had she taken her life when it wasn't necessary? She kept telling herself she had to, that it was the only thing she could've done. But the more and more she thought about it, the more she questioned, was it really?