"Lips may be sealed, secrets can be kept, but none are safe from me."
Vera Reinhart went from having a clean record to committing murder within ten minutes.
And she didn't kill just anybody. She murdered Jason Hargrove son of the most powerful man...
I have done as you asked. I looked for any clues or information that the Kleizmick Mansion might give. The only thing I found out was that Jason or Jordan were almost named Justin.
I know it's not very helpful, but perhaps if I knew what you were looking for...
I don't know what you want from information on the Kleizmick's, but nothing good will come out of it. I suggest you let it go, whoever you are.
- Vera
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A/N: The following chapter hints towards themes of anxiety, self-harm, depression, suicide and other disorders and/or triggering content. If you believe that any of this content could be triggering for you, please do not read this chapter.
Just PM me and I'll be more than happy to send you a chapter summary!
I killed him.
Those were my first thoughts this morning, and I knew my resolve was breaking.
The worst part: we were going to the basketball game. The one he was supposed to be in, leading the team.
The day had gone by in a haze. They were all blurs, colors mushed together as I tried to drag myself through the day without collapsing into an intolerable fit of tears.
I didn't kill him.
It had become the sole thought of my being this past week, but it was getting softer and softer, a simple whisper of the wind, one that my brain used to believe, but no longer.
The school bell rang. After that, everything went blank.
I don't remember if I packed my books in my locker. I don't remember how I got home. I don't remember if I said hello to Vincent. I don't remember how I climbed the stairs up to my room.
All I know is that a few hours later I was curled up on my bed, mascara running, hands shaking, body shivering.
I looked back at the time. The basketball game started in thirty minutes.
I picked myself up, off the bed and drifted to the bathroom. My fingers tied my hair up, they wiped the mascara off my cheeks and reapplied it, they precisely dabbed lipstick on, they rubbed some powder over the dark circles under my eyes, they applied some blush to give some color to the sickly pale face of a lifeless shell that stared back at me through the mirror.
I opened my locked bedroom door and dragged myself through the empty, quiet house. My parents had left the house for the weekend, both on business trips and they had given my brother permission to hang out for a while at his friend's house. It was because of this silence that I had finally realized just how truly empty I was.
