Stalked By A Serial Killer

Chapter Ten: I Told You So

Chapter Ten: "I Told You So."

I WALK DOWN THE FIRST set of stairs, and around the corner I see my family and Ty sitting in the living room continuing to still watch the global news. I take a gulp before I make my way to the second steps before pausing.

Why hasn't it turned off? It's not an emergency broadcast so why is it still running? The loop shouldn't be for another half hour.

I just stand there for what feels like eternity.

You're going to have to go through this eventually, Morgan. Then just came a lot sooner.

I walk down the second case slowly and cautiously. I try to go unnoticed, until I remember that the third last step creaks.

All eyes get drawn on me. Tyler's is scanning me for my emotions, and my mom looks like a mixture between hurt and frustration. But what totally confuses me is that Charlie's face just looks blank.

Then gets furious.

"Why. . ." Mom knits her eyebrows together.

"Why what?" I try to brush off.

"Why are you on the news?" She growls.

I shrink back a bit, but gain more posture. "Mommy dearest, I'm sure there's a lot of Morgan's on the planet with my figure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a small height isn't all too uncommon worldwide."

"Morgan. Answer your mother, now." Charlie hisses. Ah, there's that threatening and intimidating look again. Yes, I am so, so scared right now, Charlie. I'm actually not as scared as I would be; as I should be. Charlie gives off this dangerous and intimidating vibe, which relates to his personality and how he works, but when you get it for so long and so often, you start to get used to it. The consequences, yes, they're something to worry about, but luckily my worthless father does the same thing for certain punishments. So if I went to jail for example, I'd get a good slap to the back of my head in the car, and a few beats to my stomach when we're inside. He wouldn't do those actions if he caught me doing something he wouldn't agree to, so it takes a bit of practice to build up strength in the targeted areas.

I groan. This isn't going to be pretty for any of us, and I'm sure there's going to be a lot of heartbreak and crying that I really don't do well with. Mom, for the tough and unaffected act she gives at work is the total opposite when she isn't at the hospital. She's a real softy, and very, very emotional. Most time it's the leftover drag from how her days have been working, so she just cries or screams to get it all out. Or, she starts fights with  me for no reason. I'm going to get a lot of emotion in the next few minutes and I don't even know to ready myself for the impact this is going to take on my parents.

"I didn't want you to worry," I begin, listening to Charlie, even though I have a strong urge to flip him the bird and run off to the basement and not come out until he's left again. "If I told you, you wouldn't have let me go anywhere alone ever again." She nods sadly, and I see her eyes well up with tears and a few drop from her eyes carelessly onto her red cheeks. Damn it. I hate seeing you cry. Stop it!

"What. . ." She clears her throat before continuing, "what happened in Brazil, Morgan?" My Mom wheezes, and grabs hold of my Dad's hand so tight, I can see his hands turn white in seconds. Please cut the circulation off so he needs it amputated.

"You don't want to know." I mutter under my breath. I say louder, "Mom, I think it's better for me not to say. For your sake don't–"

"Morgan Johanna Peters you are going to tell me what happened at that damned city! No ifs, ands, or buts about it, do you understand me?" My Dad interrupts hostilely. Charlie I told you to not finish that sentence!