Brandon's POV
This red-head was everywhere, whichever way I turned, she was there looking at me.
That's creepy I thought
What was her deal?
This was now the third encounter today alone. If I didn't know any better, I might have convinced myself that she was watching me—maybe even stalking me. The gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach only deepened with each glance we exchanged
At first when I caught sight of her staring from the window, I thought it, a mere coincidence.
Yet something flickered through me the moment our eyes locked. It was Swift–transcending. I couldn't explain it.
And then came the wave.
What on earth!... What the fuck was she waving at me for.
Yea, she's definitely crazy.
Trying to rid myself of the unsettling feeling creeping up my spine, I rolled my eyes at her, a deliberate attempt to communicate my disapproval.
In an Instant I closed the door to my truck and went in.
Mum was on a call with someone, it seemed important.
Her eyes glued to me as I walked in, her hands motioning me to the kitchen for a quick bite.
I just smiled at her and greeted her with mouthed words—she smiled back and I gestured eyes suggesting to get into my room first.
As I ascended the wooden staircase leading to my room, I heard mum suddenly slam her palm against the table. The sound echoed across the hall. whomever she was on a call with must have said something infuriating.
Her face was ripped with vexation. Her eyes blazed with a fierce intensity that sent chills down my spine.
Could it be dad?
A wave of dismay washed over me, and my heart raced. Please, no! Is Dad still cheating? Did she uncover the truth?
I slowed my steps and leaned in closer hoping to eavesdrop in her conversation.
"You thought I wouldn't find out? Don't take my calmness for granted. You'd better do the needful.
I swallowed hard, my brain jiggling, I tried dotting the I's and crossing the T's
Then her voice shifted, lowering to a hushed yet seething whisper.
"It's just one, I'm sure, the one with the red hair, I know exactly where she is."
I panicked. Every hair on my skin stood on end, and my fingers tightened around the banister, knuckles paling as I grappled with an overwhelming sense of dread.
"Now focus on what you were paid to do and stop flooding me with unnecessary questions."
Oh no! She knows…
But how long has she been aware of it? Who exactly was she talking to?—Obviously it's not dad.
Then who could it be!?
What is she planning to do?
Wait!
What was the person in question paid to do? My mother, with her gentle demeanor and quiet strength, would never be capable of hurting someone.
Not knowing what her next move might be left me unsettled.
A wave of anxiety washed over me as I approached my room, each step feeling heavier than the last. My fingers trembled slightly as they wrapped around the doorknob then, it struck me like a bolt of lightning.
My fear all along!!
Divorce!
It rang like a loud church bell inside my ear. It felt like a light in my brain was switched on.
Mum was speaking with a lawyer!
I felt distraught. Hurt. Devastated.
As I stepped into my room, the echoes of my earlier conversation with my friends from school surged back—promises I had made to them, pledging that I would do better. But now, confronted with this unbearable reality, the question loomed in my mind, heavy as lead: how could I possibly keep those promises?
It was even a miracle, the thought found its way into my head. My mind was already filled with the sad possibility of my parents' separation.
Feeling overwhelmed by this wave of sadness, I decided that the best way to cope was to let out my emotions through music.
I reached for my acoustic guitar, hanging just above my bed, a comforting presence amidst the chaos. With a sigh, I crashed onto my bed, landing with a soft thud on my backside. I took a moment to adjust myself, then began tuning the strings.
It's been ages since I played at home, little wonder why it was out of tune.
I thought I would never find the right words to express how hurt I felt inside, but immediately I started playing, the words came flooding in.
That was the beauty of music, that's why I fell in love with it at first, it always finds a way to heal your soul. Maybe I had been so grumpy because I lost the will to play.
I sang slowly, my eyes closed, I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere but my present.
And then I opened my eyes to the feel of the song.
She stood there.
Outside behind my door—watching me, not saying anything.
Again I wondered what her deal was, I got pissed, I already had enough to deal with, worrying about a red-haired stalker who had no space in my head to fit in.
Impulsively I walked to the door and shut it