An arm is slung around my shoulder moments before a body leans against my own. Glancing down, I find that the stranger has the gun hidden in their hoodie pocket. This looks like nothing more than an interaction between two friends when that definitely is not the case.

Finally, I turn my gaze upwards to find myself face to face with the man with a clover tattoo. The one from the soccer game.

Fuck.

"Don't think about disappearin' on me," he says like he somehow read my thoughts. Nodding to the side, he gestures to a car down the street parked alongside the road. The windows are tinted but it seems he didn't come alone. "Who knows what will happen to that beautiful mother of yours."

My blood runs cold. My stomach is twisting into a giant knot.

"You know, a freak show like you should probably wear a mask," he teases with a sick grin.

Even if it's obvious I'm caught, I play dumb. My voice is shaking when I ask, "What are you talking about?"

He huffs then shakes his head afterwards. I flinch when the gun moves just a tad due to nothing more than his natural body movement. Seeing this only causes the assholes to grin more.

"You know, I thought I was crazy that night...happening to see a kid appear out of thin air under the stairs."

I bite my bottom lip, my eyes peer up at the porch. I pray my mom doesn't walk out before looking back at him. His deep brown eyes are narrowed on me. I swear, time is frozen. Each second feels like a lifetime.

"But then some friends of mine came runnin' to me talking about some ghost that beat them up and another guy swore he was jumped but nothing was there. Strange coincidence, don't you think?"

"Very."

He furrows his brow. The air suddenly feels cold.

"What do you want?" I ask, already tired of whatever the hell this is. I need to get back inside soon. If my mom walks back out, I don't know what he'll do. I don't know what I'll do.

"Now that's a smart question, Micah."

I hate hearing him speak my name. It causes my teeth to grind, which doesn't go unnoticed. His grip around my shoulders tightens while the barrel of his gun is dug deeper into my side. I think I've forgotten how to breathe.

"No worries, I don't want anything tonight."

I don't know how that is meant to make me not worry.

"But, you see, some buddies and I were chattin' and we think you could be a lot of help to us," he says with an enthusiastic nod. "With that disappearing act of yours, we could make a great team."

I don't like the sounds of that at all. My expression must state this because he chuckles, which dies the moment I say, "I'm not really a team player."

"I don't think you're in any position to be crackin' jokes, kid." To remind me of my position, he presses the gun further into my side. The pressure tells me there will be a bruise later.

"Now, listen up, tomorrow some friends of mine want to chat to you about a little job." He opens the hand on my shoulder to show a piece of paper between his fingers. Slowly, I take it and open it to find an address that I recognize. It's a not so friendly part of town, a fitting place for him and his "friends" I'm sure. "Be there tomorrow at 4pm and I suggest you not put up a fight. I'd hate to see the look on Beckett's face if something happened to Misty."

I whip my head to the side, staring at him with wide eyes. When he sees my shock, he sends me a wink; such a simple action makes a shiver run down my spine. He even knows that much? Has he been watching me nonstop since the soccer match? Have his so called "friends" been watching me too? They had to if they honestly believe him. They had to have caught me.

"Such a pretty girl like her has a lot to lose."

"Don't you fuckin-"

"Touch her?" He interrupts, pulling away while roughly patting my back. Finally, the gun is taken out of my side but I do nothing. Even if I call the cops, I don't know who else he has told. "We won't, as long as you cooperate, nothing will happen to them...or that sweet Leo of yours."

My hands turn into fists at my side, the action only causes him to chuckle while he backs away. His hands are on his pockets, ready to pull the gun out at any minute. "I'll see you soon, Micah, and remember...we got our eyes on you."

He waves goodbye like he didn't just threaten the lives of everyone around me before strutting down the street. I watch him speak to whoever is in the vehicle but he doesn't get in. Instead, he looks back at me with that twisted smile then walks away while the car remains like a looming threat.

No, not like, it is a threat.

My brain feels like it's on the verge of being friend. Even if I know to get inside, my body doesn't seem to be listening. When I try to step forward, my leg feels like jello and I wobble to the side, barely catching myself. Bit by bit, I work my way up the porch, my hands clutching the railings to keep me upright.

My heart is beating faster than I ever imagined it could. My skin is burning, like I want to scrub it off. My mind is reeling. I don't even know what I'm thinking. What the fuck just happened? Is any of this even real?

Pushing open the front door, I step inside, shutting and locking it behind me even if I know, if they wanted in, they'd find a way.

"I saw you talking to Leo!" Mom squeals from the kitchen without turning back to face me. Good. I don't know if I can handle it.

Her following words don't reach me though as I rush over to her. She's unaware of me until I suddenly wrap my arms around her from behind, burying my face into the back of her neck. She jumps but giggles while patting my arms around her waist.

"Micah, what are you doing?" She laughs, now rubbing the skin of my arm. "Honey, you're shaking. Are you feeling sick? What's wrong?"

Everything. Everything's wrong and I can't say a word.

Part of me is saying to call the cops this instant, have them pick up the guys in that vehicle quietly but, I know that won't fix anything. That clover fuck face is still out there. I'm not sure who else he has told. He has been following me, who else has done the same? If even one person knows, they can hurt everyone in my life. So even if the ones outside are picked up, there's a chance there are others.

I can't do anything.

I've been pretending to be a hero all this time and now I'm facing the consequences. Mom was right. I should have done nothing with it. I should have stayed home, where it was safe.

"Micah, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie, pulling away to head for the stairs. My voice is low. It has to be or she may hear the shaking in it. "Nothing's wrong."

Mom probably doesn't believe me but, even if she asks again, I'm not going to answer. I run up the stairs to the bathroom where I quickly turn on the shower. Normally, showers make me feel better but, in this instance, I just feet sick. I kneel down, my head hanging over like I'm going to throw up but never do.

What the hell am I going to do?

What can I do?

The water beats against my back. It's starting to burn.

Whatever happens tomorrow, I know it can't be good. It's pretty obvious what some thugs like them want someone like me to do. Illegal, shady work that I could easily get away with. I'm like the fucking golden goose to them.

There's no way out of this unless I find out who all knows and...

And what?

Report all of them to the police and simply hope the cops can get to them before they get to me. Because the only way they'll leave me alone is if they are forced to do so.

Fuck.

The remainder of my evening is spent in turmoil. I retire to my room where I continuously look out my bedroom window. Each time I do, the car is there. Like a fucking stain in my life. It's there. It won't leave. I wonder who is in it. I wonder who else knows. I consider disappearing this instant, running out there and bashing them over the head with a rock but know that it will only make the situation worse.

My hands are sweaty. I'm pacing. Everything is suddenly changing. I think over my chances of getting out of this alive. It suddenly feels like my whole world is crashing in around me. I hate it.

I hate it.

I hate it.

I fucking hate it!

But...there is one thing I hate more than their threat. The fact that I'm sitting here whining about not being able to do anything.

Fuck that!

This is my fucking power. Not my mother's. Not my families. Not theirs. Not anyone's. Mine. My life. Of course I can do something. I'm not some damn tool they can pick up and use for their own personal gain. Come on, Micah! I've been around thugs like this before. I've handled them. I've handled every damn problem thrown my way.

Sure, this is something I've never faced before but I'm not going to lie on my back and take this shit. If this dumbass and his pals honestly believe I'm going to go along with this without a fight then they have another thing coming. I'll show them what this freak show is capable of.

The silent protector is going to have to take the back seat for a awhile because it may not be today, it may not be tomorrow but, soon, I'm going to make them regret the day they ever thought about messing with me.