The Boy Who Always Was

"I can feel him. In my dreams, my heart... He's my everything. So whoever did this to him? Is going to pay."

Lucy Stewart lives with the knowledge that her life will never be full of love and happiness as it once was. But why? Little does she know that she's being haunted by the one person who she had hoped to forget about. A boy who she once loved and cherished...
A boy who was murdered in front of her eyes.

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4. Kill me now

 

Chapter 3

One swollen black eye, bruises covering me like a tattoo, my hair has been removed from my scalp and I'm late for History... Again.

    I really hate my life.

All this, because of Stacey. Flipping blonde leech. Urgh.

On the upside there are no minions in my history class. Thank God.

On the downside I was given detention, for the third time this week... 

Oh! Did I mention I also have to sit in front of Kieran?

Why is my life so complicated?

The teacher drones on about some great, unimportant to me, moment in time. I tap my pen against the desk, a habit I can't seem to get out of, while slipping back into a familiar rhythm. Keiran's hand slips back, a folded piece of paper between two fingers. I take it from him and read the note:

Dear you,

Please stop tapping your pen against the desk. It's annoying.

On another note, meet me outside our Maths class at break. 

I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you...

 

See you there, 

Keiran x

P.S. Don't bring any friends. I should hate to have to share your company with anyone else.

 

I take a deep sigh and continue with my work. I can practically feel his smirk behind me. Well two can play at that game. I continue tapping the desk with my pen, a massive grin threatening to overcome my face. He made a strangled cat noise behind me, clearly exasperated by my malice. Haha sucker... Should I go though? He won't be there. He won't be there but I'll still go... Just in case he decides to grace me with his presence. I roll my eyes at this thought. Man, I've got it bad.

 

After History, I rest my back against the wall outside of the maths room. He isn't here. I said he wouldn't be. Time seems to rush past me like a wave, then I feel his hand against mine.

He smiles. God, how I hate his smile. It radiates arrogance. "Hello," he whispers making me swoon. "How about we go for something to eat after school?" he asks.

"So, you drag me here just to tell me that." I state. "Fantastic."

The smile, still plastered across his face, grows larger at my sarcasm. "That it is," be said, leaning forward. "I'll meet you after school outside of class. You'd better wait."

I wince as he squeezes my hand. He frowns at my face and lifts up my hand, still attached to his. 

"Please don't," I say, trying to pull my hand back from him. "I don't want any trouble."

"Who did this to you?" he asks ignoring my comment.

"No-one," I reply, turning on my heel and pulling my arm from his grasp. 

He can't know. He won't know.

 

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