Page 145 of Isolation
This is bad. This is really bad.
We have a lot of family friends here. They might blab their big mouths to their parents who are all friends with our parents. That’s the last thing we need.
“Hey, guys! I need everyone to go back inside,” I announce. “We had a small accident but everything is fine now. Amy is on it, so go inside and enjoy the party.”
People start to clear out the area and return to the party. We don’t need any more witnesses to Milo’s crazy outburst.
I am praying to God that Asher doesn’t have to go to the hospital. Hospital means a possible incident report and possible charges against Milo.
What the hell overcame Milo?
He has always been even-tempered. Yes, I wanted to kill Asher too, but for a very different reason than out of brotherly love.
What Milo did was past protective brotherly instincts. It verged on jealous boyfriend territory.
I would know. Those are the same instincts I had, but watching his sorry ass on the ground reminded me why I pitied him.
I freeze.
What Milo did was absolutely in the jealous boyfriend territory.
There is no way… it can’t be true.
I am wrong in my assessment. I have to be.
So, why can't I move right now?
I need answers.
Where the hell did Milo and Raven run off to anyways?
I sit around for a few more minutes. I finally peel myself off the seat.
We have enough hands on deck to help Asher. After talking to Amy, I confirm that Asher doesn't need to go to the hospital.
As she finishes up the butterfly stitches, I let Asher know that we will talk about this later.
He won’t press charges against Milo. Asher knows that he fucked up.
My mind is still reeling from my own insane conclusions. I keep repeating and praying in my head that I am being delusional. I am reading too much into it.
I search through the party, room by room, and see no sign of Milo or Raven. Finally, I make my way upstairs to check Raven’s room.
Nothing.
I make my way to Milo’s room.
The door is shut.
I just stand there for God knows how long, staring at that locked door. Bile rises in the back of my throat as the horrendous possibility starts to become more and more real.
I have a master key to the house. It unlocks every door but I have never used it before.
I have a gut feeling that I won’t like what I see, but like a sick motherfucker I can’t help myself.
I steadily make my way to Milo’s door. With trembling hands I pull my key ring and find the master key to turn the lock.
As quietly as I can, I push the door open a fraction to look inside.
