A/N: So, I was really excited to get another chapter out because I haven't updated for a month, so here you are :D

Thanks to Ashley, Catherine, Ralai, Lara F and RTVampireKilljoy for reviewing! You people would laugh if you saw how excited I get when I find reviews :)

RTVampireKilljoy, thank you for pointing out the shoes. I totally forgot there was blood on them. And I went back and reread and now understand what you meant. I said, "a smile nearly forming on my face when I realized who it was" and it should have been "a smile nearly forming on my face before I realized who it was."

If you see any mistakes, please tell me!

I woke up due to the sun blasting it brightness into my face. With a groan, I sat up from the couch and stretched, trying to shake away the leftover tiredness. I sat there for a few moments, staring at the ground because I had just woken up. I shifted my gaze to my shoes, which I had not taken off when I went to sleep on the couch the night before. There was blood on them.

Quickly, I took them off and rushed to the sink in the kitchen and attempted to rinse the blood off. It was on the bottom of the shoe, and thankfully not on any of the top material, so the red liquid easily came off with some really hot water and scrubbing. I sighed in relief, and threw them next to the couch. I stood in front of the sink for a few minutes before deciding to take a shower.

Thirty minutes later, I was done and drying myself off with a fluffy towel. Ten minutes after that I was dressed, but I was gloveless and scarfless. I briefly thought about just telling Jane and Charley about my scars and how I got them. Unfortunately, that would lead to telling them about Tom, and I couldn't have anyone asking me about him.

The thought of Tom made me feel both guilty and angry. It was obvious why I felt guilty, afterall, who wouldn't feel guilty after killing someone? The more I thought about it, though, the less remorse I felt. He had tried to kill me and nearly succeeded, it was only fair to return the favor. No, I decided that I wouldn't feel sorry that Tom was gone from this world. I would feel sorry that I had taken a life, but I was glad that it was Tom who was gone. I felt anger because even dead, Tom was causing trouble in my life. If he hadn't stalked me, then he wouldn't be dead, and I wouldn't be trying to cover up a murder.

Jerry was right. I couldn't go to the police. They knew my history with Tom, and would assume that I had killed him out of spite. Either that, or they would think I had snapped and also killed Adam and his family, and that woman in the theatre. I was thinking so intensely that I didn't see Charley, who was standing in front of the bathroom door.

"Hey," his voice brought me of my thoughts, "I need to use to the bathroom. Like really bad. Can you get out?"

"Oh," I dumbly said, "yeah, sure."

I grabbed my things and headed out of the bathroom, and I couldn't help but notice that Charley was staring at my scars. He was trying to be discreet about it, but his eyes were definitely wider than they had been before. Shit.

"Vanes-" he started, but I interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

"Don't ask. It's none of your business," I hissed bluntly, and hurried away. I went to the basement and threw my things into the laundry. Something caught my eye, and I looked back into my laundry basket. Jerry's black shirt was there. I had forgotten he had given it to me. I sighed and figured I should return it to him. It seemed that once I remembered it was his, when I picked it up, his smell invaded my nose. He smelt good.

I didn't bother with covering my hands or neck, because both Charley and Jerry had seen them, and Jane was at work. I could worry about her seeing them later. I put my blood-free shoes on and headed out the door to Jerry's house. Once there, I hesitantly knocked on his door. I knew he was home because his truck was in the driveway. I waited for a minute before knocking again. No answer.

I bit my lip. Was he ignoring me? When the thought entered my mind, it opened a gate that I hoped wouldn't be opened. Was he ignoring me because he didn't want anything to do with me? If so, did he call the cops? I began to freak out, my eyebrows coming together in worry as I looked down at my feet. What was I going to do?

"Vanessa!" someone's voice rang out, making me flinch rather violently. I turned to see who it was, discovering Ed standing in my driveway on his skateboard. I slowly walked over to him, hiding my hands behind my back. I also kept my face turned slightly downwards because he wouldn't be able to see the scar on my neck from that angle.

Ed noticed my odd behavior and pointed it out, "are you okay?"

I avoided looking him in the eye, and answered, "yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

Before he could say anything else, I walked passed him, saying that I felt sick and that he should come over another time. He seemed disappointed, but did as I suggested, hopping onto his skateboard and leaving. I appreciated that he didn't put up an argument, and I assumed that he thought I wasn't in a mood for company.

I went back inside my house and sat on the couch, checking the time as I did so. It was eleven in the morning, and already I felt as if a whole day had passed. I must have been more tired than I felt. Feeling the couch move, I looked to see what was causing it and found Charley sitting next to me.

"Don't ask about my scars," I told him, folding my arms across my chest because I felt rather defensive.

"Wasn't going to," Charley replied. I glared at the tv screen, wondering what he wanted. He hadn't really talked to me recently, since he had been hanging out with Mark, Ben, and Amy.

"So, did you get me anything?" he asked out of the blue. My eyebrows raised as I turned to face him.

"Why would I get you anything?" I questioned, annoyance slipping its way into my voice.

"Because it's my birthday?" Charley spoke easily, as if it was the most simplest thing in the world.

"Oh," I said in surprise, "oh. Oh my God, I'm so sorry Charley. I completely forgot."

I felt like such a horrible cousin.

"I'll bring you out to dinner tonight," I said to him, "and Mark and Ben can come. I'll pay for everyone."

"I thought you didn't like them?" Charley asked me, though there was a small smile on his face because he was getting food for his birthday.

"I don't," I admitted. I also didn't care to try to get to know them. Tom had been just like that before he started to abuse me. Over the last few months I had started to wonder why I had been attracted to someone like that in the first place.

The brief thought of Tom made me feel bitter, but I threw that emotion away when I reminded myself that I wasn't going to feel remorse over his death. I remembered that I still had Jerry's shirt in my hands, which Charley didn't notice. He probably assumed that it was my shirt.

"Isn't your birthday coming up in a few weeks?" Charley commented, standing up from the couch.

"Yeah, the third of August. It's two weeks away," I replied. After receiving my answer, he walked away, most likely to go eat breakfast in the kitchen.

I also stood up from the couch, but instead of going to the kitchen, I went down to the basement. I laid down on the air-mattress, pulling the covers up to my chin and curling into a fetal position. I brought Jerry's shirt closer to my nose and inhaled. Like before, it smelt wonderful, and my bad mood seemed to lighten.

I thought seriously about Jerry. He wouldn't help me just to call the police on me the next day, would he? It seemed rather pointless. I sighed and turned my thoughts away from what had happened the previous night. Instead, I thought completely about Jerry. He was handsome in a dark way, with his black hair and brown eyes. He was finely muscled, and I could tell he was stronger than the average person just by looking at him. He was usually quiet, and seemed to silently observe the people around him. He was rather mysterious, and I wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad trait.

I dozed off, having a pleasant dream for once. I had been sleeping for about seven hours when I felt someone try to wake me up. It was Charley, telling me that it was six, and if I wanted to bring him out to dinner, then we should probably leave.

"Mark is driving us," Charley said, and I remembered that I didn't have a car to drive around in. I needed to get one. I would, of course, use my money, and perhaps with some financial help from Dave, and I would soon have a car. I needed to talk to him about this the next time we were on the phone together.

"Do you have another pair of gloves I can borrow?" I asked Charley, who had to think for a moment. After a few seconds he nodded his head and went upstairs to get them for me. I looked into one of my bags that I still hadn't exactly unpacked and pulled out a scarf. While I had had that one pair of gloves when I first came to live here, I did have more than enough scarfs. Not only did they cover my scar, but they were comfortable to wear, even in the summer as long as they were light.

Once I was upstairs, Charley handed me some gloves. They weren't the kind that I would usually wear to cover my scars, but they would have to do. Before heading out the door, I asked my aunt if she wanted to come with us, but she told me that she was busy dealing with troublesome clients. Besides, she had already given Charley his present earlier. Five minutes later, I was in the car and we were driving into town. Charley had picked a somewhat expensive restaurant, which I didn't blame him for. Afterall, it was his birthday, but I didn't want to end up spending two hundred bucks. Boys ate alot.

When we were seated, I sat next to Charley because that was where I obviously felt the most comfortable. After a few moments, our orders were taken and we were left to chat while we waited for our food.

"Thanks for bringing us," Mark said, and I was rather surprised he had even said thank-you. Guess he isn't as bad as I thought he was.

Ben also thanked me and Charley followed suit. I told them it was no problem.

"So, you're going to be in school with us?" Mark asked, probably wanting to get to know me because it was possible I might end up in a few of his classes.

"Yeah," I answered, and then a question of my own popped up, "do you guys have senior project?"

"What's that?" Ben spoke up, entering the conversation.

"In my old school, you had to choose a topic, and then make something and write a research essay on it," I replied. I hated my senior project in my old school.

"We don't have that," Charley voiced, "not yet, atleast."

Our food came a few seconds after Charley had answered and we began to eat. The three boys chatted about events and people that I didn't know, so I just listened in. No doubt a few of the people they were mentioning I would meet once school started. I definitely knew who I was going to avoid. Then we left once we were done, and by then, it was about nine o'clock.

I noticed that Jerry's truck was still in the driveway, so while Charley went upstairs to do whatever, I grabbed the black shirt that was laying on my air-mattress. Once I was standing in front of Jerry's door, I knocked a few times. I was glad to see his face when he opened the door a moment later.

"Here," I said gently, holding out the black shirt for him to take.

"Why don't you come inside?" he suggested, and held the door open for me to walk in. I did so after a moment's hesitation.

He closed the door and I couldn't help but get the feeling that I was trapped. I swallowed the paranoia away and once again held out his shirt. He grabbed it, and as he did, one of his fingers brushed against my own. A chill ran up my arm and I had to jerk my hand away. He gave one of his sly-smiles, like he was enjoying something, before walking further into his house.

I looked around, my eyes sliding over what was before me. His house was rather empty, which I thought was strange because he had been living here for atleast two months. Then again, I hadn't unpacked my own bags and I had been living there two months, also. I saw a few tools here and there, and I recalled that he had been working on his basement. The windows were painted black, and he also had thick black curtains that were draped over the windows. This was nothing like it used to be when my mother and myself lived in it. I was forced to stop my observation of his house when I caught his eye.

"Why did you help me?" the words popped out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think about them.

"It doesn't matter," Jerry brushed my question away with ease. My eyes were still locked with his, and I felt the urge to just go along with what he was saying. Unfortunately, I had more questions. Alot more.

"What happened to Tom's body?" I continued, ignoring the urge to stop questioning him.

"It doesn't matter," Jerry repeated, this time showing his teeth in a grin, like it was funny.

"Stop saying that!" I yelled at him, but his little grin remained intact.

"Stop screaming," he chuckled, and I could practically taste the threatening tone on my tongue.

I sighed, and asked, "why didn't you call the police?"

"Because I didn't want to," Jerry smoothly said. I stared at him, and thought: what kind of answer is that?

"I need to leave..." I mumbled, wanting to escape his presence. Earlier I had been happy to see him, but it wasn't so anymore. He wasn't answering any of my questions like I thought he would. I opened the door behind me, and right before shutting it, I heard him say:

"See you soon."