Stalked By A Serial Killer

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Like Father Like Daughter

Annddd it looks like I got it done in time after all!

It's a really crappy chapter compared to the original, but hey, every author has this happen to them at some point, right?

Anyway, here it is!

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Chapter Thirty-Nine: "Like Father, Like Daughter."

WE DON'T get back to Tyler's house until around two in the morning.

All lights are still on in the house, meaning everyone is still awake. I feel awful for having them waiting up for me, but I know deep down that this was my fault.

I shouldn't have been so snappy, I shouldn't have stayed awake for the past two days, and I should've just waited for that stupid turtle of a woman–though I know that the turtle would've been faster.

I sigh and open the door, and see everyone in the living room. Megan has her head rested on the arm of the couch, and Bryce, Lucy, and Mason are all on the sofa. Mase is reading the paper, while Bryce and Luce are on their phones.

"Hey!" Luce says tiredly, hopping to her feet. "Is everything alright, are you okay? What did the doctor say? OH MY GOD YOUR EYE!" She runs up and pulls my face into her hands and examines my eye, but looks entirely disgusted while doing so.

"Ow!" I hiss as she presses a little to hard on a space near the stitching. The bruising is just starting to show, and even though Dr. Hawthorn numbed my whole right side, I can still feel some things.

"Shit, sorry." She says, immediately dropping her hands.

"Language, Lucy." Mase scolds, and she mutters her apologies. "Go to bed, kiddo, okay? It's late."

"Fine." She grumbles, and makes her way to her room.

"So. . ." Dad trails. "How did it go?"

"Magnificently." I say sarcastically. His lips start to part to say something, but I cut his speech short. "You didn't have to stay up for me, you know."

"Oh we know." He replies. "But you're still family, and mister over here didn't send us half-hour updates." He points to Tyler accusingly, in which Ty just rolls his eyes.

"So what if I sent them every forty minutes!" He whines, "Dad, it's not like I set up reminders every half an hour to say 'message the whole family with an update on our troubled family member.' I was too occupied, and I wasn't even supposed to have my phone on, anyway."

"Hey!" I exclaim, feeling offended and attacked. "It's not my fault trouble follows me!"

"Honey, you have trouble on your ass like you have delicious bones in your pocket and the whole city's canine population is at the heels of your feet because of it." Tyler turns to me, and says it like a statement.

"No I don't." I say.

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No–"

"Hey!" Bryce says, interrupting us. "I'm really thirsty and in the mood for one of your famous smoothies!"

"Seriously?" I ask in shock.

"Yes!" He exclaims happily, then gives me a dangerous look. "Now, go make them."

"It's nearly 3:00 a.m. and you want me to make my smoothies?"

"Duh."

I shrug. I'm not tired, even though I haven't slept in a couple days and I could actually use a thirst quencher. "Fine."