Chapter Two

The rasping of curtains and the stabbing morning light pulled me out of my sinister dreams of masked figures following me.

"Ellieeee!" My mother sang happily, much too bright on a Sunday morning at, I glanced bleary eyed at my alarm clock: nine o'clock?!

"Mum," I groaned, burrowing under the blankets, "it's nine...in the morning! Who wakes up at nine in the morning on a Sunday?"

I curled into a ball as the covers were ripped off me, leaving me shivering in my tank top and baggy pjs.

"Come on, up," my unwise mother commanded, "we need to buy you some clothes for school." And with that she bustled out of my room, her head held high with purpose. Obviously she had had her second cup of coffee this morning.

Shopping. I repressed a shudder at the prospect. I wasn't really a shop-til-you-drop kind of girl. More of the sulking-in-the-corner-as-mother-picks-out-hideous-attire sort of person. I was still getting my head around the fact that students didn't have to wear uniforms here. At home the teachers cared more about the uniform policy than actual education.

I finally managed to drag myself upright and roll out of bed. I staggered slightly, wincing as I remembered my ankle. It didn't hurt much now, just twinges every now and then to remind me why high heels are evil.

As I was wrestling with the dodgy door on my wardrobe, I thought about last night, at the Masked Ball. I didn't see Patch again that night, and I didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

Patch kept creeping into my thoughts all morning. While I was brushing my hair, pulling on my black hoodie and driving through the sleeping town. I caught the dreamy expression on my face in the car's side mirror and scolded myself for being so pathetic.

I could hear my mother chatting happily to the sales assistant as I hid behind a clothes rack, arms aching from the multiple plastic bags cutting into my skin. I sighed miserably and looked out the display window, to freedom, I thought shaking my head. Then I spied something that made my mood brighten immediately. "Mum?" I stepped out from behind the rack.

My mother frowned at me, tearing away from her enthralling conversation of cuts of jeans. "Elle! Where were you?"

"Mum, can I go to that bookstore across?" I asked, gesturing vaguely in the right direction.

My mum rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged in a silent; what can I tell you? "Yeah, go on," she sighed. I grinned in victory and skipped out of the stifling clothes store with the scarily made up sales assistants cooing over orange feather dresses and disturbing mannequins that look like real people.

Mooching along the shelves and shelves of books, I finally felt at home. The shop was small, yet cosy with honey wood and dusty carpets. Inhaling deeply, I could catch the scent of paper and stale coffee.

"Killer?"

I was so immersed in reading the blurb of a thick paperback that the wisp of breath at the back of my neck caused me to jump violently. The book tumbled to the floor with a muted thud.

"Patch?! Jeez you scared me," I gasped, stepping back into the bookshelf to put some space between us. I had whirled around to find myself inches from Patch's chest, the black t-shirt reeking of smoke and mint. He ducked down to retrieve the book from the carpet, flipping it over to smirk at the front cover.

"Nice," he half smiled, holding out the book to me. I tugged at it but he held on to it, waiting until I looked up. "Didn't think you were much of a horror freak."

I frowned in confusion, "Horror? This is Romeo and Juliet...?"

His eyes gleamed, "Exactly my point."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, ha ha," I said sarcastically, edging out the corner I was wedged in. "What are you doing in here anyway? You don't seem like the type who can read,"

He stopped and stared at me, amusement flickering deep in his obsidian eyes. "I can read, Elle."

""Uh huh," I was sceptical.

"Anyway," he continued, leaning in, "what else would I be doing in here? I'm following you."

A chill tingled down my spine, before I brushed it away with a nervous laugh. "Of course you are. You couldn't get enough from last night, could you?"

"Mm, I miss that dress though," he said mournfully, appraising my jeans and hoodie assemble.

"Hey!" I punched his shoulder, then had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop swearing with pain, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Nothing," he grinned slowly, raking his eyes up and down, "but I prefer a little skin, your legs did look good."

His scrutinizing was making my face heat up. Not again! "You sleaze," I said, irritated. I turned away, trying to fight the smile lurking close to the surface.

I could feel him right behind me, a cold presence breathing down my neck.

"Killer?" Patch nudged, sounding like he was suppressing laughter.

"What?" I moaned, still not turning around.

"What is this?" he chortled, waiting for me to turn. I spun around to face him, and then dropped my jaw in astonishment.

Patch was grinning that pirate smile again, holding up a lacy black bra. Heat crept up my face all the way to my hairline.

"Oh!" I gasped, snatching it out of his hands, "What the hell?!"

"It fell out of your bag," Patch widened his eyes, feigning innocence.

"Sure it did," I snapped, stuffing it back into the Victoria Secret's bag.

"It's very nice," Patch complimented, bracing an arm on the shelf in front of me to block my path.

"Rape in a bookstore?" I asked in disbelief, staring at his arm, humiliation causing me to lash out. "That's low, even for you."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, causing me to shrink back into myself. Then he raised an eyebrow and flashed his teeth. "It's not rape if you enjoy it."

For the second time in the matter to two minutes my jaw dropped. "That's...you- disgusting," I spluttered, brow creasing in anger.

His shoulders shook slightly with his quiet laughter. "See you in school, Killer," he removed his arm from the shelf and began to lope away.

Like hell you will, I thought savagely. Patch's laughter carried over to me, making me wonder what he thought was so funny.