Chap. 8

YOUR POV: 

My mind blanked. "Does this mean..." I asked, and he nodded. It was official. I, Y/N Yamada, have a boyfriend. And a cute one at that. He seemed to smile at me, hugging me. It made me smile, wide and open, like I used to. 

"Guys! I found it!" Bruce shouted, humming as he pointed to the combo. 23-7-14, or maybe 2-37-14. Or even any other variations. Everybody smiled, staring down at Bruce's discovery. "Are we ready to get ourselves out of here?" I asked, and they nodded. 

We started our plan. First, we were going to lead him down here. Then, we planned to have him chase us, and lead him into the hole, where we placed an air vent, hopefully breaking his ankle, or any other bones in his body. Then we would choke him with the phone cord, as the last thing he hears are the voices of his dead victims. 

Michael Cohlwell. 

Adam Marks 

Tara Collins. 

Jesse Hood. 

Lianna Clarke. 

Those were the people who deserved to see this through. The ones who deserved better in their lives. The ones who should have lived their lives to the fullest, not dead in a basement. They deserved better. They deserved everything. We would do this for them. Because now they can't. 

Michael will never go to arcades and tutor kids again. Adam will never play baseball again. Tara will never play with dolls with Gwen Blake again. Jesse will never beat up a kid again. And Lianna will never kiss Griffin again. Maybe I'm thankful for that, because as heartless as I sound, I'm glad he belongs to me. I'm glad he's with me. 

I feel horrible for saying that, but it's true. It's so very true, no matter how much my brain attempts to go into denial about it. 

I'm 

Glad 

He's 

With 

Me.