Save Me

Chapter Twenty-One

"Good. Just come over. Please, don't ask any questions. Just come over."

He tutted, but agreed. "Fine, but if this isn't an apology for how much of a twat you were to me, I swear I'm going to be fucking fuming." He hung up.

I showered while I waited for him; stood under the head, face down, and watched the water turn pink as the blood washed off my skin. I scrubbed hard all over, trying to get all of it off of me, feeling sick with myself. My skin was blistered red when I stepped out and dried myself off, got redressed and waited by the door until Hedley knocked.

"I'm here," he said, diving down onto the nearest sofa. "Alright, I'm ready. Go ahead."

"I-I, I don't know where to start," I said, breathing slowly to calm myself down. I closed the front door behind him, stepping further into the room.

"With an apology," he said, throwing his arms behind his head.

"What for?"

"For being a fucking twat to me," he said. "Kicking me out of your car and leaving me to walk the whole way home."

"As I remember, you told me to stop the car, so you could get out."

"Details, details," he dismissed. "Say you're sorry."

"I... killed someone," I sputtered.

"Apology accep-" He stopped mid sentence. "You fucking what?"

"I killed him, I didn't mean to, but he's dead, I killed him, Hedley, I killed him. Fuck." I started pacing the room, my eyes flashing to my bedroom door down the hallway, panicking again.

"You what?" he asked. "Isaac, don't fuck with me, what the fuck is going on?"

"I'm not fucking with you," I asserted.

"What do you mean you killed someone?" he shouted, getting up off the sofa quickly to storm towards me.

"He... he came for me with a knife, I swear, it was an accident. I got it off him, and I killed him. I slit his fucking throat, Hedley. Fuck," I panted.

He slapped me. "Why the fuck did you kill someone?" he shouted. "Are you a total psychopath?"

"It was an accident," I cried.

"You just happen to accidentally slit someone's throat? Are you fucking insane? Where is the body?"

"In my bedroom."

His face turned and looked briefly at my bedroom door, turning back to me, and staying silent. He rolled his eyes and strolled towards my bedroom. "I swear to god, if there's no dead body in here, there will be when I'm done with you." He stopped outside the door, and pushed the door open, staring inside. His eyes bulged, rolling back into his head, fainting on the spot.

I hurried over to him, but when I reached him, he was laughing. "I fucking got you!" he laughed, getting back up. "There's no body in there, you liar. You know, if you wanted me to come over you really didn't have to make up these psychotic lies. Just fucking ask."

"There's no..." I turned and stared into my bedroom. The floor was clean, blood-free, and no corpse. I felt myself starting to panic again, my breathing becoming hard. "Where is he? I swear, he was right there, right there, he was right fucking there!"