I Borrowed Money From My Bullies Before Faking My Death Chapter 12

I Borrowed Money From My Bullies Before Faking My Death Chapter 12

Even I—emotionally clueless as I was—could tell Knox was pissed.

But I still needed to ask about Silas. So I dragged my feet all the way to his bedroom.

Knox ignored me. Pushed the door open.

Minimalist room. Cold tones.

My eyes caught something. A black notebook on his bed.

Knox noticed my stare.

Explained, offhand, “My journal. From before the accident.”

My eyes went a little wide.

“But it has a combination lock. I couldn’t open it.”

I exhaled.

“So I had someone break it open.”

What!

My breath hitched. I forced myself to breathe. “What’s… inside?”

Knox had a sharp tongue. Still, he was straight up about some stuff.

Seeing my curiosity, he just tossed the loose notebook at me.

I opened it carefully. First page.

Knox’s handwriting. Sharp, wild.

[Seeing her pisses me off. Can’t even spit out a sentence. Dumb and dull. Feels like there’s an unexplained urge welling up inside me.]

Well. This was definitely about me.

Second page.

[I hate a lot of people. So why does she feel like the worst? She hasn’t even done anything to me.]

Third page.

[I had that dream.]

These words. Messier than before.

Fourth page.

[Holy shit, is that urge in the wrong place?]

Even messier.

Nothing after that.

My expression must’ve been strange by the time I finished.

Knox snatched it back, indifferent. “I must’ve really hated that person. Lucky for her I lost my memory. She dodged a bullet.”

I nodded weakly. “Yeah. Totally.”

He really hated me.

Probably dreamed about beating me up.

Knox’s gaze drifted back to me.

I shivered hard. Terrified he’d remember. “I’m going to my room now.”