Chapter Thirteen: The One With Camille's Note

"It's not what it looks like. I'm not some psycho or stalker or killer or whatever it is you're thinking right now. I just happen to know that stuff. That's it. Simple." Gianni pleaded with the both of us, with a claim that didn't give him any leeway, and was equal to being left unsaid, or maybe he dug himself in a deeper hole. It sure did mess with him; what failed and lame excuses he tried to hand over. "This doesn't have to be overthought. It shouldn't be. You've already thought too much about it. It's like you're hallucinating."

"Wow. Why does this seem so painfully familiar? Oh yeah, because I was feeling the same way two seconds ago because of your accusations." I forced sarcastic words out from under my breath, such that I thought he wouldn't be able to hear, but which I thought wrong. The key ring that held the life of the family motorcycle was spinning around my index finger, was enough of a threat that I'd leave if he wouldn't, even if it meant leaving him in my house, just because I couldn't stand his existence, but getting up and heading to the door only added to that. "Rachel, let's go. Wherever he ends up, I don't care at all at this point."

"You're not just going to up and leave like that!" He said to what came out like mostly himself, his footsteps seemingly hesitant to follow behind Rachel, who listened to me abruptly, and dramatically. When she had put her hand on the door to prepare her leave, his footsteps were slowing, and his arms were out in front of him that looked like he was giving up; he appeared vulnerable and naive, like a lost puppy, and it made me angrier. I was pissed, breathing heavily, because in my mind, he was anything but.

"Watch me." Rachel spit back at him, before shutting the door.

We trudged together back through the store out front a couple of ferocious but meaningful steps, for as long as our attention wasn't captured by anything else, but the look Gianni had shown us moments ago were evidently untrue and deceiving when he shouted out for us, requesting what he didn't have space to request. "Let me explain. Give me three minutes. Three seconds even!"

He wanted our attention, and he won it, sad to say. Enough to bring us back to where he hadn't left. All I could do was study him, and the more I did, the more I hated myself. The more I wanted to puke because of my idiotic ability to trust people who didn't deserve it, and the more I realized how right Rachel always is.

She takes the lead like she does not because she's bossy, but because she's good at it. Whatever he's done to know that kind of information - it couldn't have been good. This Gianni and I, we haven't had any sort of history, and he definitely didn't have one with Rachel. There was never once a day I assumed that could be possible with them. Then how? How the heck does he know?

"1, 2, 3." I answered through squinted glares, snapping my fingers in unison to each number count until I could turn around and head off back to what I was intending to do before he decided to interrupt the grace of Rachel and I. His shock came out like whines, that turned into stutters of how he was going to lure us back in, and what words that was going to take.

Our gap widened once more, but consistency of that spread wasn't on our side. The sound effect of the girl's flip-flops, that were normally heels stopped at once. She didn't turn around to find eye contact, and I knew for sure from the backside, where Gianni's view would be, she was absolutely terrifying and could at any second click out of control, but from the front, she was an open book with her emotions. She wished she could curl up into a ball and cry.

I nudged her, giving her a quick glance to figure out what she could be up to. This weaker side of her was so surreal I almost couldn't accept that I took the lead of this rebellion to begin with, and if I could get my head around that, I couldn't believe she hasn't taken over yet. "Are you alright? What are you doing?" I asked her, leaning a little forward to more properly get a scan of her expression, good enough that I could draw it from memory. There was a furnace in her eyes - burning with no end.

"Explain then." She demanded, her arms clenched in fists at her sides. "Because right now, you seem like a creepy stalker gone murderer that caused my best friend's disappearance, and that wanted to cause mine next and you're a lucky one too. You know why? If I turn around right now, and I see you again, I just might kill you without any conscience to disturb me. I just might. So cough it up, your excuse. Your explanation. Your story. Anything. I'll take any of it and I'll go. Tell me while I'm being nice."

"It's - I -." Gianni fumbled around with his coat zipper, which he had gotten on when he was hoping to chase after us, but instead settled on using his voice instead of his feet; neither seemed to be functioning very well on his behalf. "I didn't know that knowing about your baby or Camille's ankle contributed to me being a killer. I'm innocent, really. I really am. I'm mourning her death as much as you are. You both know that yourselves."

Rachel found my eyes for the first time, and they softened for a moment. The soft side of her came loose when she saw me, but she didn't allow it to overpower. Witnessing that didn't make me feel that she was some mighty human being, but the opposite. Hurt, tore up, and burdened is what she was, and the proof was that she felt she had to put up this gigantic shield and hide herself away. That's what that anger was. Somehow, I saw myself in it. I felt for it.

"It doesn't necessarily." She inhaled so deeply I didn't know if carbon dioxide ever made it's way out, but it must've, because when considered herself recovered enough she did collect the bravery to face him, and to support her, I did too, so she knew I was here. "But it does mean that you know people on levels that their closest friends and family never knew about or barely knew, and it's not making you look good. Not in the least."

Her walk was basically lunges toward him, and I had to run to keep up with her back into the house. Gianni, terrified, headed further back into it, deeper into the living room so she wouldn't expose her anger into a physical danger so fast. The door flung open so hard that it hit the wall, which was obviously only the beginning and would've boomeranged right back into the frame to close if I wasn't standing in it to enter myself. Neither of them noticed the occurrence out of the tension they already had to worry about.

"I'm gonna kill you with nothing but my own two hands." Rachel claimed, her shortening distance all necessary to corner him up against the wall by the coat rack. His collar was pinched at his neck, and I can swear that at times his feet would leave the floor out of the pressure she was putting on it. I debated on getting in between or calling someone each time it did, but when they'd return to the ground I was hopeful that I didn't have to get other people involved. My house becoming a popular crime scene wasn't something I dreamed for.

His body brushed against the jackets hung beside him, bustling them about, enough that they'd jolt and appear on verge to slipping right off, but never did anything happen. What I did notice is a small piece of paper make it's way down to his feet, and I was curious enough that I would've probably brought myself into the middle of their mess because of it, finding an answer to that debate, if there wasn't any distraction from outside.

"Miss Crish! Are you in?" Samuel called, the childishness in his voice still the same as I last knew. I shushed the fighting pair, taking a few steps further away to better hear what he wanted, and it did seem to calm the chaos. I was glad, because I didn't want to freak out a kid, and with the natural talent kids have for telling the world nonsense that doesn't concern them or anybody, I wasn't prepared for this to be the town's talk anytime soon. "Miss! We're having a party. I need to get some soda for my family. My uncle gave me money."

"I'll be right out!" I shouted in response to him, my index finger still at my lips because of the fight in front of me, that Rachel trembled to have to pause. Samuel's response wasn't verbal, but I could hear the gate shaking and clanging out of his impatience, and I knew I'd have to get out there or he'd sneak back here on his own. That didn't mean that the ability to move my feet on over was blessing me.

"Rachel, I'm sorry, alright? I'm not joking that you're overthinking this. I'm not really supposed to spill this to every person that I meet but-." Gianni whispered, as not to be overheard. I was staring into the mirror to his right, fixing up my hair so I didn't look so wound up when I'd step out to work. There's no reason besides being stupid that I'd make the reputation of the store worser than it already was willingly.

In my side vision, I could see the same begging plead in his eyes when he stared at Rachel, who didn't appear to be listening whatsoever. Her gaze was down at the ground and it was so fixed I didn't know what could possibly be going through her head. It might've been too much for her to have to deal with this. That didn't mean Gianni was gonna stop explaining. "I know that Camille sprained her ankle because my dad is chief of surgery at the Tagbilaran City hospital. A lot of the surgeries are reported to him before they can start, and because the medical staff knows her for her fear of pills and finding other remedies he heard about it so much it imprinted his mind. I know that you, Rachel, had a baby a bit ago because my mom's a OBGYN. She delivered your child. Because it's a small town we respect people wanting to keep their medical matters private, but I'm their son. I know a lot of stuff because I overhear them talking."

My jaw dropped to register that as the truth, and she was shook up for a second too, but in a matter of time Rachel was waving her hand in the air to brush off the subject, even after all that went down. She had crouched to the ground while he was talking to pick up the same piece of paper that I had saw fall from what must've been the jacket pockets and when she opened it up she wouldn't look away. "Never mind that. It's not important anymore." She murmured, as if barely conscious. "That's not a big deal. I don't care."

Gianni was embarrassed because of it, and I was a little too. The shift wasn't gradual at all. One breath she's at his throat with threats of death and the next she's nearly silent and peeking into something entirely different. "What do you mean it's not a big deal?" He was shaking his head, unable to make sense of what was going on with her.

"Wh-what's in your hand?" I decided to ask when she didn't answer, snatching the paper away from her. She didn't fight for it back, and her lips puckered up when she tried to answer me, almost as if she was fighting her own words. Once I saw it, I understood why. Seeing it answered my question before she could, but she did get there.

"It's Camille's suicide note."