I've been running all my life. Away from the horrid memories of the sacrifices my mother made to protect me, and to protect my name from this evil world we live in...
But everything's changed...
I've recently found out my mother was murdered by a psychopath; choosing the wrong pill in a game of chance that would give away her secret. That gave away my name.
That cost her her life...
I heard a man named Sherlock Holmes had solved my mother's case along with others who had fallen of the same fate. I must find him so I can warn him: for he does not know what he has gotten himself into...


24. Plans For Retribution

Knock knock knock

"...Rachel? Are you okay in there?"

No response.

"Rachel, if something's going on, you can tell me."

No response.

"Rachel, come on, it can't be that bad, can it?"

"...Get me a gallon of chocolate ice cream, then we'll talk."

John comes back 10 minutes later and knocks on the door, and I croak with my damaged voice that it's unlocked. Thankfully he shuts and locks the door behind him. He looks at me with great concern of my current..."condition" someone might say.

I was sitting on my couch, surrounded by pillows and stuffed animals. I had my sky blue comforter from my bed wrapped around me, making me look like a peach-coloured caterpillar wrapped in a fragment of the afternoon sky. There were wadded up tissues all over the floor, soaked to the brim with snot and tears. I was listening to some Fall Out Boy to try to cheer me up, but it was no use. Everything, from the happiest songs on my indigo I-Pod nano to the books with the happiest endings, were just reminding me of everything having to do with Phil or everything having to do with PJ.

John attempts to wander off into my kitchen to grab something, but I stop him, taking the gallon of cold ice cream from his hands, grabbing two metal spoons out of a drawer, and going back to my sky-colored chrysalis of safety. I move parts of my cocoon and pat a spot for him to sit, and he sits down. I pop open the ice cream and plunge both the spoons into it and set it between us.

"So, you wanted to talk?" I say hoarsely as I grab one of the spoons and shove a bite of ice cream into my mouth.

"Yes, Rachel; what's been going on lately?" John grabs his spoon also, but jabs it towards me before he takes a bite. "Is all this about PJ?"

I make a so-so sign with my hands, and I tell him everything:

The dancing with Phil, the book-snorting, the proclamation of love with a million roses (that were now in a vase in my bathroom). I also tell him about Dan and Chris, and I tell him about the voicemail from PJ.

After I finish explaining, we're only half way into the gallon of ice cream.

John's hedgehog-like thinking expression came over him as he tries to comprehend the enormous amount of information I have told him.

"Okay..." He says after a long period of thought. "Do you want my opinion on this whole situation?"

I nod my head as I spoon another bite of Rocky Mountain Road into my mouth. John sighs, and I already know what he's going to say: that this is a dumb thing to be crying over, that I should do the right thing once I decide what the right thing is, that I should probably get a counselor or a therapist for my the sake of my mental health as a 15 year old girl.

But he doesn't say any of that.

Instead he grabs my hand and strokes it while he holds it loosely in his military grasp.

"Go talk to Phil. Explain to him that you already have a boyfriend. Then, go talk to PJ. Tell him everything you just told me, and I am 150% sure he will forgive you." He brings my hand to his lips, and I start to laugh and blush. John smiles, glad to see a familiar smile spread across my face again. "I wish I could go with you tomorrow to help you explain, but I have a crime scene I need to inspect with Sherlock." He kisses my forehead and rises from his spot on the couch.
"Oh, and just call if you need me." John says, and with a wink and a grin, he shut the door behind him. "AND YOU MIGHT WANT TO TAKE A SHOWER TOO!" He calls from outside the door, and I emerge from my chrysalis like a beautiful butterfly, and rush to the bathroom to get freshened up.


I see the roses are starting to wilt, so I give them fresh water. I inhale the nice fumes of the flowers, and it doesn't remind me of anything at all.


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