• Chapter 7 •
"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."
-Sirius Black
For a while I couldn't hear the 'oh's' and laughs of the lunch room audience. All I could focus on was the regret that swarmed in Peters dark orbs. Every once and a while he would twitch as if he was trying to control the little sparks of anger flowing through his system.
I don't really know why he felt regret. He never seemed to care for anyones feelings but his own.
Then quickly the loud noises appeared when a hand grips my forearm and begins to tug me away.
"Come on Brennan! Let's go!" Claire shouts at me. I keep my focus on him for a while longer; then let my eyes drop to the ground as I turn and follow out.
"What the hell are you thinking? He's got it in for you now! If I didn't grab you when I did then he would have killed you." She huffs out.
"He wasn't going to hurt me." I say. She raises an eyebrow.
"And what makes you think that?"
I think back to his regretful eyes, but yet his face stood hard and tough.
I begin walking back down to class. "Because if he wanted too he would have done it the minute those words left my mouth."
Claire's jaw hang open a minute before she shakes her head at me. "Brennan...."
I look at her.
She laughs. "You are one crazy bitch."
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I drop my heavy book bag at the bottom of the stairs.
"Brennan? Is that you?" My fathers voice calls.
"Yeah dad, it's me." I say walking into the kitchen. My mother sits next to him on the bar stool.
"We have some news for you, and you're not going to like it." My mother says calmly.
"What?" Nervously I question.
My parents exchange glances.
"We-" My dad starts; but he stops and looks to the floor. "Your mother, brother, and I are going back to Maine for a couple of weeks."
"What..... Why- why am I not going?" My voice stutters.
"It wouldn't be good for you to leave; not with school and your health." My father clears his throat.
"My health is fine! I should be back to my strength by the time you leave; the medication should be waring off."
They both shake their heads. "It's not going to work. You know the sickness takes longer to leave then to appear." My mother says standing up quickly from the stool. " You're not going."
"And how the hell do you know if it won't be gone by then?" I yell gripping my hands in tight fists.
"Because." My father looks at the floor once more and back up at me with no sympathy on his face. "We're leaving tomorrow."