***
Alex opened her eyes. The evening light was now in full swing. Amy was lying a on the bed a few centimeters beside her. Tears drenched much of her face, though they’d stopped coming out for close to an hour. The bruise on her neck was much clearer now, in part because she’d taken off the top button of her uniform, and in part because Alex was looking at it up close. It was dark purple, and consumed a large portion of her lower neck.
“You know,” Amy spoke softly. “I thought that we could have been something, Tommy and I. When he talked to me, he made me think that he actually understood me, and that he cared.” She scrunched, rubbed her eyes. “I went to his party, and,” That was all she could muster. Her hands covered her face, and she sobbed helplessly with no signs of stopping.
“Tommy took me away from everyone else. We went out to the park about a minute away, and,” more tears returned. “It was just me and him. At first I thought I wanted to, but I didn’t, and he made me.”
Alex touched Amy’s hair, and she straightened the gold strands.
“It’s okay,” Alex reassured her, emulating Aunt Melanie’s method of comforting those with grief to almost near perfection. But for whatever reason, her efforts did nothing to ease Amy Lawson. Not one bit. In fact, she was fairly certain that it only made her cry even more.
At this, Alex wondered if she was doing something wrong.
Amy’s enclosed palms were moist. Both from sweat, and having rubbed the tears from her eyes. Her pupils were redder than cherries.
“I hate him,” she cursed, her head reaching boiling point. “You have no idea.”
“I understand,” though in truth, she didn’t.
More streaks of tears followed shortly after.
“Someone should put him out of his misery,” Amy added.
Alex wasn’t aware that Tommy had any misery. In fact, being a star student athlete at Elsinore and an actively social creature, she was fairly sure that he didn’t have anything of the sort. But she digressed. Appearances were deceiving after all. She of all people would know.
“Did you tell the police?”
Amy shook.
“And let everyone in town know what happened? About what he did to me?”
“He would go away,” Alex said. “He wouldn’t be able to hurt you again.”
“No. No one can know about this.”
“Why not?” asked a curious Alex Frost.
“Would you want everyone in school knowing that about you?!”
Amy’s voice was loud and brash. As though she were directing the blame of it all to her inhuman friend.
It was strange seeing Amy Lawson this way. So fragile. Broken. It wasn’t like Amy to be this temperamental.
“I’m sorry,” Amy said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s alright Amy.”
But Amy refused.
“It isn’t. It’s inexcusable.” And then Amy released a sigh.
“I’m not in the best place right now to talk with anyone right now. Maybe you should just go.”
“Are you sure?”
A pause. Then, “Yeah.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Alex Frost Meets The Killer Page 8