Chapter 17

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The ones closest to us are the most likely to destroy us. The people we think we know end up being the biggest deceivers. We often look past the warnings when it comes to the ones we care about. Love is truly blinding.

Amelia curses in her bedroom as she paces back and forth. She'd hardly slept. She'd been tossing and turning the entire night at the thought that Ethan could be the killer. She'd been blinded by her infatuation and her fallacious idea of who he might be. Everything she thought of Ethan Crawford had been a hoax. She'd been fooled and she could never forgive herself for it.

How long had he been obsessed with May before he had the deranged idea of murdering her? What could she have done to make him snap? Did she reject him? Embarrass him?

Or is he just a sadistic human being?

Her entire world has spiraled out of control since she'd found out his deadly secret. He's the one that threatened to kill me. She shivers at the thought. The boy she'd idolized is nothing but a psychotic murderer.

However, she can not let him know she's onto him. Not only because she fears being near him, but because her father might get into trouble for being careless with crucial and confidential information.

She gathers every ounce of strength with a defeated sigh before getting ready for school.

The paranoia is unyielding as her eyes dart in multiple directions in hopes of catching a glimpse of Ethan so she can escape in the opposite direction. She fears what she'd do if she saw him. She fears what he'd do to her. What if he looked into her eyes and figured out she knew?

What if he murders me in front of the entire school?

She knew her thoughts were deceiving her but it didn't minimize the fear.

She'd been so caught up in her thoughts of how to avoid Ethan, that she'd failed to realize him approaching her. She'd only noticed his presence when he stood a few feet in front of her.

"Hey, are you okay?" He immediately noticed her distressed look.

"I'm fine," She feigns nonchalance. "Just been a bit jumpy lately."

"I don't blame you, I've had my moments too."

Liar.

"I'm here if you need to talk." He offers. "I know we haven't been in the best place lately, but you're a good friend and I don't want to lose that."

Rejected by a mass murderer. Could it get any worse?

She awkwardly clears her throat.

"I better get to class." She attempts to subtly end the conversation.

"Of course." His reply is just as tense.

She speed walks down the hallway to create as much distance from him as possible. She finds it disheartening how the boy that once filled her stomach with butterflies now fills it with dread. She leans against the wall to catch her breath and to gather her jumbled thoughts. However, her breathing methods are ineffective. Nothing will soothe her overbearing mind except Ethan being locked away so he can never hurt anyone ever again.

She mentally curses as she remembers Ethan is in this class too. He walks in a few moments later and takes the seat in front of her. Her shoulders tense but she attempts to remain calm.

The lesson is droning, but distracting - until her phone buzzes beside her. She reaches into her pocket with bated breath at the unknown texter.

Why so tense?

Her eyes immediately cast to Ethan. He's too preoccupied with copying down notes. How could he text without a phone? Amelia glances at the screen and hurriedly types out a response in hopes of his phone ringing.

Who is this?

He makes no recognition and continues with what he's doing.

She jumps as the phone vibrates in her hand. This time there are no words, only an image attachment. She enlarges the image and analyzes every inch of it as her blood chills. It's a picture of her in this very class, looking down at her phone. However, this image is taken from an outside angle. She glances out the classroom window to be greeted by the hair-raising cloaked figure. The very one following her in her nightmares.

Her brain feels as if it's about to combust. She glances at Ethan before returning her gaze outside, but the figure is no longer there.

She tries to wrap her head around what just transpired. She'd been so certain that Ethan is The Lurker - but seeing him right in front of her as The Lurker makes their appearance has completely demolished her theory.

If Ethan isn't the killer - then who is?

The cold night is tucked under a woolen ashen sky. A breeze swept over the top of the trees in the park. The leaves sway as gracefully as a ballerina. Jake's steps are subtle. It's as if he's fearful of someone jumping out of the bushes to attack him. However, he needed to get out of the house. His parents finally arrived home and wasted no time questioning him and Seth. It had become overbearing and he needed distance from their insufferable hovering.

He'd also received a text from Amelia about her incident during class which has been running on a loop through his mind. He'd hoped it was Ethan - he'd never liked him. He'd always felt Ethan was strange and conceited. And his obsession with May was mind-numbingly obvious.

However, the other part of him was hoping it was Ethan so that it couldn't possibly be Abigail. He didn't want to believe that she could be capable of something so sadistic, but he knew that Abigail is capable of a lot of things. He shudders at the thought of it potentially being her. She'd always been envious of May, always having to live in her shadow. There had often been times during her and Jake's random hookups when she would bring up her hatred for her supposed best friend. He'd always felt she thought of May every time she was with him. Her obsession was unhealthy.

He groans as he sits on a bench and gazes up at the blurry sky. His brain feels numb. The crickets chirp and leaves rattle as the nocturnal animals begin their routines. However, a nearby bush rattles and captures his attention. No animal could create so much noise. He jumps from the bench and glances around the area, but the darkness makes it increasingly difficult.

He takes a step forward and strains his ears, but it's as if the individual had disappeared. He turns his body as if ready to pounce on the spy, but no unusual noises are created. He sighs at his paralyzing paranoia and returns to his position on the bench. He places his head in his hands and rubs his temples. All the stress has taken a toll on his mind.

The chime of his phone startles him. He'd forgotten to put it on silent. He brushes his hand down his face before lifting himself slightly to retrieve the device in his back pocket.

He scoffs at the familiar name. Unknown.

He didn't know what to expect from the text, but he could have sworn his heart stopped beating momentarily.

Looks like you're next. 


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