"John" casually lights a cigarette, taking a lungful of its fumes and blowing it out, filling the porch with its bitter scent. Still hanging over his shoulder like a rag doll, I tap on his back and mutter, "Did you forget I'm still up here?"

He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales sarcastically, "Really? I didn't notice your ass glued to the right side of my face."

After that mocking statement, he slowly lets me slide down from his shoulder, the smoke floating all around us. I take just a tiny step away from him and try to find my favorite porch chair. The moon is full but the clouds and roof of my porch cast a perfect shadow over our heads.

Let's add my poor eyesight and we get the perfect formula for me not being able to completely make out his features.

Again.

I should really consider getting that laser eye surgery.

I spot the blurry figure of my chair and carefully make my way towards it, all while hearing "John" say, "Your blanket is right there."

I find the very same fleece "John" had forced Owen to give me at the Chinese restaurant and loosely wrap it around myself as I settle into my chair.

Gazing at "John's" full figure, his naked torso just a few feet away from me, I can't help but be drawn to ask, "Why do you smoke? It's bad for you."

He responds immediately in a tired voice, "I'm not planning to give up the little joy I have left in my life."

"Oh..." I whisper, taking in his words. Then, gathering my courage, I quietly ask, "You must see a lot of dead people... Does that... make you numb?"

I stumble over my question, unsure of why I even asked. Perhaps it's because I suspect he works for the police or the government.

I hope...

After a brief pause, "John" slowly turns to face me, his voice dripping with intimidation and threat, "The dead people are the least of my problems."

Feeling my nerves intensify, I stammer, "Uh, yeah... I mean, you just... um, you seem to be unhappy with your life, and I..." I quickly hide my face in my palms, muttering to myself, "Fuck..."

"And you assume corpses make me depressed?" he huffs.

"Well, yeah. It's a disturbing sight."

"John" chuckles, takes a drag from his cigarette, and mumbles, "Not if you see the right motherfucker in a pool of blood in front of you."

"Yeah," I gasp, caught off guard by his response. "But deep down, it must leave some marks."

"Don't even try to become my shrink," he groans, flicking the cigarette butt over the fence into his garden, creating a fiery red trail through the air.

Right after that, he starts walking down the short stairs, heading toward the fence. I jump up from my chair and shout, "Wait, are you leaving?"

He continues walking, uttering, "You're clearly not as blind as you say."

"Wait!"

He stops but doesn't turn his face to me. Clinging to the column that supports the roof, I lower my voice, a tinge of sadness seeping through my words, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say anything wrong."

"John" groans and turns around, frustration evident in his response, "Did I hear you fucking apologizing again?"

I freeze, uncertain of how to respond, and "John" appears more than agitated. He strides back up the porch stairs, pushing me forcefully against the column, roaring, "I don't like to repeat myself."

As his face emerges from the shadow of the roof, the moonlight illuminates his eyes. To say he looks angry would be an understatement-he is furious.

Dark, heavy eyebrows furrowed over his darkened, menacing eyes that shimmer in shades of emerald green. My heart pounds like a jackhammer as he grips my waist tightly and squeezes my cheeks with his other hand, crushing my lips into a plump shape.

"If I hear you apologizing one more time, I swear I..." he cuts off his threat and releases his grip.

Slowly stepping down the porch while still facing me, he continues until he reaches the grass. Gathering myself, I retort, "You know what? This is what polite people do. They apologize for being rude!"

He simply keeps walking, paying no attention to my words, and I throw one final statement at him, "And by the way, you left your shirt in my bedroom."

He groans, "Keep it."

What the hell is wrong with him?

He has some serious issues, and things are only getting weirder and weirder. After every time he has given me some princess treatment, he cancels it in a rude and temperamental manner. It almost feels like he really wants me but for some reason, he can't have me.

Or am I just imagining things?

As "John" disappears from my sight, I turn back to my house and switch on the lights, ensuring a safe way back upstairs. After taking a hot shower, I find myself back in my bed, staring at his white shirt lying on the floor.

What the fuck am I going to do with his shirt?

Should I return it tomorrow?

Oh, shut up, brain.

This man next door is nothing but a glaring red flag. In fact, he has so many red flags that if I gathered them up, I could sail across all seven seas. Sinking deeply into my pillow, I wrestle with the urge to pick up that damn t-shirt from the floor and bury my nose in it.

I guess I'm no better than my insane neighbor.

"Fuck it," I whisper, giving in to my curiosity.

I jump out of bed, swiftly retrieve the shirt, and let my fingers glide over its soft, cold fabric. I don't even need to press it against my face because I can already smell his intoxicating scent.

What am I doing with my life?

I toss the shirt onto the left side of my bed and curl up on the right side, wrapping myself in the blanket and closing my eyes. It's time to put all these confusing thoughts aside and get some much-needed sleep.

***

"Bunny!" my dad greets me happily at the door of my childhood home.

There is nothing better than a regular Saturday visiting my family. Except, my mom is still giving me the cold shoulder. Or so I thought until I see her running towards me with a huge, warm smile on her face.

"That's odd," I think to myself.

As soon as I step into the house, the delicious smells of freshly cooked food fill the air, making my mouth water and my stomach growl. Brad comes bounding down the stairs, waving at me and exclaiming, "What's up, sis?" He then heads to the living room to crack a joke with Ryan.

"The lunch is ready," my mom says, clasping her hands together. "Come on now, let's all sit down." I follow my parents to the dining area and almost drop my jaw in disbelief when I see Owen and his parents already seated at the dinner table.

I pause for a moment, trying to grasp the situation, until my mom walks up to me with a smile and urges me to take a seat next to Owen. Owen immediately stands up and assists me by pulling out the chair, saying, "My lady."

I shoot a suspicious glance at everyone at the table and slowly sit down. "Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Andersen," I mumble, nodding at them. They offer warm greetings in return, while my mom acts as if she's slightly panicking over this lunch.

My dad, ever the gentleman, takes my mom's hand and says sweetly, "Tina, darling, sit down. I will bring the food."

My mom presses her hand to her chest, gasps, and then sits down, smiling at our guests and waving her hand dismissively, saying, "Oh, Harry is just being overly caring today."

What does she even mean by that? My dad has always been caring.

Brad, sitting on my other side, pokes me with his elbow and asks, "I haven't seen you much lately. What have you been up to?"

I shrug and smile, "Oh, you know. I've just been working a lot and..." I badly want to say "avoiding our mother," but it would be highly inappropriate in front of our peculiar guests.

So, to end my sentence, I simply add, "living my life."

Owen picks up right after that and says, "We should go out sometime again."

Brad raises his dark eyebrows in mild surprise and asks, "You guys are dating again?"

I raise my palms and immediately respond, "No, we are not."

Then, throwing Owen a knowing look, I hiss through my teeth, "We are not." Owen's parents throw him some strange looks but don't say anything.

Owen kindly smiles and replies, "Yes, we are good friends."

Thankfully, my dad returns with a hot, steaming tray of turkey surrounded by roasted potatoes and vegetables. I ask out loud, "Wow, what's the occasion?"

My mom, seated beside Bradley, leans towards me slightly, offering a kind smile that hints at sarcasm. She gestures towards our guests and utters, "Well, Clarice, look who's visiting us. The Andersens are always a reason for a special lunch."

Everybody laughs and exchanges pleasantries, but I can't shake off the uncomfortable feeling. There is no reason why my ex-boyfriend's family should be having lunch with mine.

Yet, here we are, eating a grand meal and engaging in polite chit-chat, pretending everything is just like in the old days. I'm more than certain that my mother is behind this. She's definitely trying to get Owen and me back together again.

Well, that is definitely not going to happen. I just hope I don't have to explain it here, in the middle of this seemingly friendly and overly polite lunch.

The hours pass, and everyone is having a great time. I try to engage with my brothers and completely avoid Owen's presence. Teasingly, I ask Ryan, "Do you still have the same girlfriend? What was her name again?"

Ryan rolls his eyes, his face twisting into fake disgust. "Ha-ha, real funny, Bunny."

Brad laughs and taunts, "She dumped him. Big time."

"Oh," I giggle awkwardly, "Well, I'm sure you're not having any trouble finding a new one." Ryan is actually a pretty popular guy at high school. The girls are running after him as if he were a prince of some kingdom.

Brad, on the other hand, likes to keep things to himself. He has a more mature approach, being older than me at twenty-four. He has a nice job and a promising future, but for some reason, he doesn't want to move out or introduce us to any of his girlfriends either.

As the clock strikes 4 p.m, Owen's mother, Lydia, stretches her smile wider than ever and speaks in her sophisticated voice, "It's been such a lovely afternoon, but I guess it's time that Garry and I leave your pleasant company."

My mom lets out a heartbroken "Aww" and hugs Lydia as if they were inseparable best friends. I watch them, my eyes still filled with suspicion.

Owen approaches me and gently touches my hand, "Clarice." I turn my head towards him and tilt it slightly, my face blank. He continues, "How do you feel about having lunch tomorrow after church?"

Upon hearing that, my mom practically runs towards us and grabs me by my shoulders, resting her chin on her hand. "Of course, she would love to have lunch with you." Before I can say anything, she shouts, "Did you hear, ladies and gentlemen? Owen and Clarice are going to have lunch tomorrow after the service."

My brows slowly furrow, and a deep crease forms between them. I shake my shoulders slightly to get my mom off my back and grab Owen's hand, leading him away from everyone.

Dragging him to the kitchen, I narrow my eyes and hiss through my teeth, "What the hell?"

Owen shakes his head as if he has no idea what just happened and mumbles, "Don't ask me." He sighs and mutters quietly, "You don't have to accept my invitation."

Throwing him a sarcastic smile, I whisper aggressively, "Yeah, I'm not!" and walk off, leaving him behind.

I reach the living area and utter, "I have to go too. Have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Andersen," and take my steps towards the front door, while my mother nervously excuses my unexpected behavior.

My dad joins me in fast steps and hugs me before I can reach for the doorknob. "Bunny, don't mind your mother."

I sigh and smile, "I knew she was behind it."

Dad draws a tight smile on his lips and nods. I kiss him on the cheek and open the door, immediately feeling a sense of freedom and relief to get out of the house and away from the Andersen family.

I quickly walk down the street towards my car and search my pockets for the key. With a flick of my wrist, I unlock the doors and get in. Just as I insert the key into the ignition, I spot a masked person sitting in the back seat. Before I can scream, they flash their hands around me and muffle my sound with a white cloth on my face.

Everything fades away...

***

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//Author//You really don't wanna miss the next chapter.//