I recognized it immediately. The House. Our House.
He could feel it. Eyes, watching him, waiting for just the right moment. To strike, to kill maybe. Julian didn’t question his instincts. Julian ran.
“There are doors there the likes of you and me don’t know how to open, not on purpose.”
This statement, it’s not a confession, all right? I didn’t kill my boyfriend. This isn’t my fault.
I was the last person to see my brother alive.