No.

No..

No...

I look Alexander in the eyes and stare at him with all my might as I slowly return to my steps and hit with the wall.

The little boy is no longer alive. Everyone said he died as a result of my mother's remarks, that he committed suicide, and that I couldn't save him.

I shake my head at Alexander in front of me, not trusting a single thing he has said to me. He attempts to walk closer to me, "stop! Don't you dare come near me." He holds both hands in surrender. Alexander is the little boy, the boy who I thought I killed.

He stood right in front of me.

"Y-The little boy is dead, everyone knows that." I stutter on my words.

"I'm standing right here." He takes one step closer, "I didn't commit suicide, I just ran away from New York."

"I lived-my whole life thinking I had a death of a little boy in my hands! And now you're trying to kill me!" I raise my voice in an unfriendly matter.

"I've been protecting you my whole life, I'm not the one who wants to fucking kill you Nova," he tries to come closer. My body collides with the corner of the room as I hold onto the pocketknife, I grabbed from the table beside me.

"Don't you come near me, don't." He takes another step. "No!"

"My father wants to kill you Nova, that book has his annotations inside. I am reading it to see what he wants to do with you, you know Jane?" Jane...how does he know Jane? "Jane your social worker?"

"I know who the fuck jane is, I don't know who you are!"

"Jane is my little sister, she has been helping me to protect you, she got you the apartment next door to me-my father is a dangerous man and he is after you. So yes, call it stalking, call it abuse of power, call it lying and secrets, but I'll do anything to protect you."

Jane was Alexanders little sister.

Alexander Solonik was my neighbour, he was the little boy I used to see by the window of my garden. He helped me get my ball back and then came to say hello with bloody hands, he saw me upset and wanted to cheer me on, Alexander Solonik is now standing right in front of me.

And to say confusion has not gotten the best out of me-is a lie.

"How do I know you're not after me? Look at your hands, I did that. I hurt you. Why are you protecting me? It makes no sense Alexander. No sense. Who protects them who hurt them?"

You may argue that I was correct, because when someone betrays you, you cling onto that betrayal and never let it go.

He wanted me to help him through the night with bloodied hands, and all I did was run into the kitchen like a scared little girl. I had the option of telling my mother about him, but instead I hid under my bedsheets and slept like a baby.

Alexander sticks to where he stood, whilst i took the situation in hand. He paused for a moment or three before answering my recent question;

"Nova, I love you and have always loved you. I knew you were different the moment you moved, the way you rushed with the butterfly catcher—then you'd be disappointed because you caught nothing but bugs. The way you used to play football against your garden fence, how you used to cry when your mother wouldn't let you play for longer. I was never allowed to leave the home the day you unintentionally booted the ball to our side, but I did it for you since you cried day and night over it."

My face suddenly loosens and the wall I built up slowly crumbled down, Alexander settles down onto the side of the bed and glances down at his hands.

"My father sliced a knife through my hands fifty-seven times, because he caught me. I did not care though, because when I saw the smile on your face-it made it all worth it. And I would do it all over again. To see you smile just once."

"Who killed my mother?" I ask.

He slowly looks up, "my father."

I turn, but too slowly to be considered normal. When I talk, my voice trails slowly, as if my words are unable to fly. My eyes are sad, and the brown is overly glossy. I walk to the bed and sit onto the edge, staring into the galaxy.

"Your father wants me killed, you brother-"

"Stepbrother." I pull off the sheets and put on my underwear and shirt before grabbing my trousers and exiting the room. "Nova!"

"Alexander, I need space from you. I need to be alone."

I come to a halt the moment I open his front door; I have forgotten my apartment door open. I slowly step out of Alexanders apartment and see spray paint all over my front door.

It was made up of two crosses that ran from one corner to the other. I push it open, it creaks, and what I saw within broke my heart. Everything was destroyed when I dropped my shoes and phone before coming in.

The kitchen cabinets had been ripped apart, there was glass on the floor, and a red flowing spray paint covered the entire room.

My couch had been ripped to shreds, and my cushions had been thrown and opened. My television was on the floor, my clothes were ripped all over the place, and what killed me—what pained me the most—was the box of memories I had of both my parents.

I shake my head, run towards it, and slowly descend to my knees to see all the photographs in fragments. I look back to see Alexander closing his eyes.

◾◾◾

I sat on the corner of his sofa; it has been one week, and I did not move a bit. Nor did I talk to him, I could tell he had no idea on what to do due to the fact he only handed me dinner and that's it.

Normally, I stare at him longer than I used to. This man was the little boy I had a crush on, the little boy I thought I killed.

He puts the kettle on and settles onto the couch opposite me, I rest my arms around my legs whilst looking out the window. The snow slowly melting before reforming, "this is for your protection Nova."

"I don't want your fucking protection, Alexander!" I spit out.

"No, you need it. My father knows people, bad people. They are after you. I am protecting you. Stop being so fucking annoying about it."

"I'm annoying? You're fucking annoying, you and your stupid blue eyes. I thought I killed a little boy! But no, the mother fucker is sitting right in front of me, I have been having sex with-"

I groan, rushing my fingers through my hair.

"What do we do?" I mumble, "we have to do something before he kills me."

Alexanders eyebrows raise from the switch of my voice, he leans his elbows onto his thighs before looking up. "There's only one thing we can do." He whispers.

I await for his response; I watch as his eyes suddenly darken. "And what's that?"

"We kill my father before he kills you."