A/N: A month... I'm sorry peoples. D: I don't have any reason why, and my only excuse is that I'm lazy...

Thanks to Ralai and Ashley for reviewing! :) Reviews are my most favorite part of writing a story because I get feedback!

If you see any mistakes, grammar or otherwise, please point them out!

Another two weeks passed, and during those days I had managed to get a job, school was out for summer vacation for Charley and Ed, and there was still no sign of Apple. My job was in town, and I took the city bus to get there. Sometimes Jane would give me a ride if she wasn't busy. My boss told me my work hours were usually from 6pm to 12am, with an hour or two change. I didn't have a problem working that late into the night, my only concern was that the city buses didn't go that late. They stopped doing their rounds at 10pm. I mentioned this in one of my conversations to Ed, who suggested to me that he would pick me up after work. At first I told him no, but he was stubborn and said he usually stayed up till 3 in the morning anyway and it was no big deal. I gave in and ended up giving him a hug in gratitude, saying I would pay him for gas money.

Ed and myself started to hang out more because he didn't have school, and I would have done the same with Charley, but he was always with Mark and Ben. I began to feel myself growing away from Charley and more towards Ed. I also had my suspicions why Ed liked to hang out with me so much, but I didn't have enough to proof to convince myself that Ed liked me.

When I found myself alone, I would draw in my sketchbook while my mind wandered off, mostly to things like Apple, Jerry and Tom. After two weeks of Apple's disappearance, I had somewhat let go of him. If he was gone, then he was gone, and the only way he would come back is if he wanted to. Ed, on the other-hand, was stubborn. He liked to drag me around the neighborhood at least once a day for half an hour, and sometimes even through town. We had already looked in the pound, and hung some posters up with Apple's picture on it.

A month passed, and it was July. Dave had secured a job nearby and was currently working with my aunt to look for a house. They estimated that it would take two or three months. This meant I would still be sleeping in the basement by the time school came around again, but I wasn't bothered much by it.

During dinner, Charley would talk on and on about this girl at his school named Amy. Apparently Mark or Ben had introduced them sometime in the summer. Well, maybe not introduced. They knew each other in school, but it was only recently that Charley had changed social groups. As I said before, though, he talked about her alot. It was obvious he liked her.

Over the month that I had been working at my job in town, I had gathered a rather large amount of money for an eighteen year old. I didn't spend it on anything except for gas money for Ed and new pencils for my sketchbook. My sketchbook was actually full of sketches and drawings of Jerry. That night he had seen my sketchbook? That was only one page. This was multiple pages, and if he ever got his hands on it for whatever reason, I would have probably died of embarrassment.

Currently I was sitting on a bench at the bus stop at the entrance of my neighborhood. Bored, I looked at the sky and was glad that it was summer, because then it meant that the sun stayed out longer. I liked the sun, because it was bright and always made me happy. After all those months being with Tom, I was done being in the dark.

I heard a noise and realized that the bus had come to a stop in front of me. Picking up my things, I stepped onto the bus and sat in the seat closest to the driver. About ten minutes later, I was let off the bus and within a few steps, I walked through the door to my job. It was a book store, and I often wondered why it stayed open so late. It wasn't like a bunch of people got the urge to go buy a book at eleven at night or later. It was fine by me, though, because I was the one who got the extra money.

"Hi, Vanessa," a woman's voice greeted me, my boss. She was a woman in her earlier sixties, with gray eyes, and she had yellow teeth and a raspy voice due to smoking most of her life. It was only recently that she had quit. Her hair was short and light brown, not a gray hair to be seen because she dyed it

"Hi, Lucy," I greeted with a smile. I put my things under the front desk, and walked over to help her put some books away because they looked too heavy for her to be lifting. Actually, they looked a little heavy for myself to be lifting as well, but I was younger and could deal with it. Half an hour later, as Lucy was making her way to the door, she was telling me it was alright with her if I left work early. Then she was out the door and out of sight.

By then it was seven o'clock and the sun was still up. I sighed in boredom, because while the money was easy to make, I generally had nothing to do for multiple hours. Usually, I would draw in my sketchbook, but I could only do that for so long without getting bored again. Another three hours passed when I heard the little bell on the door ring. I stood from my seat and looked up, a smile nearly forming on my face when I realized who it was. I screamed.

"Get out! GET OUT!"

My throat burned from the sudden pitch of my voice, but I didn't care. The only thing that I cared about was getting as far away as possible from the demented person who was walking closer to the front desk. My brown eyes were locked with his blues ones, and I just barely stopped a shudder from shaking my entire body. His light brown hair was combed for once, just like he always did it when he used to apologize to me. Then he was right in front of me.

Tom. The man who slit my throat and almost killed me. He was standing right in front of me.

My mind was blank, because I just couldn't comprehend how. How did he find me? How did he know where I worked? Was he stalking me now, too?

Tom gave a cruel smile and reached for me, and the next thing I knew, I was screaming and my hand was shoving my pencil into his throat. Blood shot out almost instantly, spraying onto my face, scarf, and shirt, and streamed down my glove which was still holding onto the pencil. I slowly let go, and looked up to see Tom staring at me. We held each other's gazes for a few moments before he fell to the floor with a loud thud.

I could hear him gargling, choking on his own blood. He was bleeding to death. The noise from his choking lessened as the seconds rolled by, until it ultimately stopped.

I silently stood there, before sitting back down in my seat. Did I just... murder someone? I saw movement near the bottom of my vision, and when I looked down, I saw blood inching its way towards my feet. The evidence was right there in front of me, that yes, I had killed someone.

The bell to the front door rung, and I shot up from my seat in a panic. From across the room, I saw Jerry. Of all the people that could have walked through that door, it had been Jerry.

My mouth opened and closed, trying to form words as to why there was a dead man in front of my desk. It seemed that the more I realized what I had done, the more my mind began to spin out of control.

"I can-"

"What? Explain?" Jerry cut me off, and slowly walked around the dead man on the floor. He inhaled deeply for a moment before continuing, his voice deeper, "there's nothing to explain. You killed someone."

"No... no! Y-you don't understand! It was an accident!" I sobbed, the pitch of my voice high. I had acted in a rush of terror when Tom had reached for me, it was pure instinct that had jammed the pencil into his throat. "Jerry, he-"

"No, Vanessa," Jerry, who had come to stand in front of me, growled. I jumped away from him in fear, bumping into the wall behind me. "You knew what you were doing. You wanted him gone from your life. Permanently."

I slid down the wall behind me while shaking my head. No, that couldn't be true. I was a good person!

Seeming to read my thoughts, Jerry leaned down to face me and whispered, "do good people murder other people?"

Nothing left my mouth except for my ragged breathing. I closed my eyes, and escaped from the sight of Jerry's accusing stare and the blood that was continuing to creep towards me. Had I purposely killed Tom? Somewhere in my mind, was there a place that truly wanted him dead? I didn't think so, maybe gone from my life, but not dead...

"We need to call the police," I stated suddenly, opening my eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that it was the right and only thing to do.

Mine and Jerry's eyes locked. He seemed to study me before finally voicing his thoughts:

"You can't."

"What?" I gaped, "I just killed someone!"

"Exactly," Jerry told me, "what do you think the the police will do when they find a girl who was at two previous murder scenes?"

"I-I didn't kill them, though!" I protested in a panic, and any rationality that I might have had was shattered.

"They'll think you snapped," he went on, ignoring me. "Just like you did in here, with Tom."

I remained quiet and my thoughts were blank. I was staring at my feet, but I could feel Jerry's eyes on me. Ever so slowly, my mind seemed to open to the possibility that, yes, maybe the police would think I killed Adam's family and that woman. I couldn't go to jail for something that I didn't do. Blood touched my shoes, and I was reminded of Tom. I killed him, and I knew it, but did I deserve punishment for killing someone who nearly killed me?

"I'll take care of the mess," Jerry spoke smoothly. I simply nodded, too frazzled to really understand what he was saying. I felt something on my face, and when I forced myself to focus, I realized that Jerry had run a finger down my cheek. I saw blood on the tip of his finger as he drew his hand closer to his face, and that was when I remembered there was blood all over my own face and shirt. My gaze was drawn back to Jerry, and in that exact moment, I saw him suck the blood on his finger. My eyebrows came together in confusion, but before I could do anything, he stood up, dragging me with him.

"Here," Jerry voiced and then took his shirt off, handing it to me, "change your shirt and go clean your face up."

Silently, I grabbed the shirt and headed towards the book store's bathroom. Once there, I shut the door and looked into the mirror. It looked like someone had taken a paint brush and flicked large amounts of red paint all over my face and shirt. My black hair was a mess, and my brown eyes looked both tired and alarmed at the same time. It was another sight I knew I would never forget.

I slowly turned the faucet on and let the water run until it was warm. Once it was, I took a few paper towels and wet them before wiping my face clean. Next, I pulled my blood-stained shirt and scarf off and threw them to the floor, partly in disgust and partly in relief. Jerry's shirt wasn't his usually white wife-beater, instead it was some semi-formal black shirt with long sleeves. When it was on, I couldn't help but notice that it smelled like him. Looking back into the mirror, my eyes were drawn to the scar on my throat.

I forced myself away from the mirror and picked my shirt and scarf up from the ground and left the bathroom. I was surprised when all I saw was Jerry sitting on the front desk. Once again he was staring at me, and I openly stared right back. Of course, this was somewhat difficult because he was shirtless and because I was wondering how Tom's body and all the blood was utterly and completely gone. The only evidence that anything illegal had happened was in my hands.

Jerry beckoned me closer and when I did, he stepped onto the floor from the desk and took my scarf and shirt from my hands. He paused a second later.

"Your gloves," his voice was quiet, and rolled from his tongue in a raspy sort of way.

I looked down at my gloves, wondering why he mentioned them. When I saw the blood, I sighed tiredly and pulled them off my hands before offering them to Jerry. He took them without a word and motioned for me to follow him. Grabbing my things on the desk, I walked after him and remembered at the very last moment to lock the store with the key Lucy had given me.

He lead me to his truck, which I hopped into without a word. He didn't turn the truck on, so I just sat there in silence, gazing out the window into the dark.

"You can't tell anyone about this," he suddenly said, and I swore I heard an edge of warning in his tone.

"I know," I mumbled, too drained of energy to put up a fight. He seemed pleased with my answer, and started the truck up. I must have fallen asleep, because I felt myself jolted awake in alarm when I felt something cold on my shoulder. I realized that it was Jerry, who had put his hand on my shoulder to wake me up.

I stumbled out of the vehicle, and sluggishly walked over to my house. As I was unlocking the door, I momentarily glanced to my right. Jerry was leaning against his truck, watching me with his arms crossed. His expression was blank and so I had no idea what he was thinking about. Quickly, I pushed myself into the house and shut the door behind me. Too tired to walk downstairs or change clothes, I fell onto the couch and fell asleep.

A/N: BTW, this whole story was based off the basic idea of Jerry meeting a girl who killed someone, which was Vanessa killing Tom. This is where the real shiz begins. xD

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