Jordan walked for hours. He walked away from the crash, away from Cynthia. He meant to get as far away as he possibly could. Jordan found himself at his own doorstep. His feet apparently knew the way home without the help of his mind. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door, sighing. After closing the door behind him, he turned to the wall on his right and pressed a button, shaking his house with the power of his music turning on. He sighed again and plopped down on a couch. He should have known, Cynthia was the first person at the site, and would obviously feel the pressure to resolve it all. She would feel like she could have been there to stop it, and so feel the obligation to right the damage by resolving the mystery of the bomber.
So that was it. He could no longer let himself see Cynthia. As sad as the prospect was, it was the only safe option. But why was it sad? He had only known her for the past 15 hours, if that. He picked up a remote and paused the music. He stood and walked to his computer. He searched her name, wondering if he could find her online. Alas, no. Disappointment. But why? He had no interest in her. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself. He opened his mind. She was beautiful, and seemed to like him. That was a rarity among people.
Defense one: If he can manage to gain her trust by the time she finds out who he is, she'll refuse to accept it.
Defense two: Jordan trained himself in treachery and deceit since he was 12, and could very likely avoid recognition as a killer.
Guilt plagued him again. A killer. A cold-hearted killer, that's who he was. But then again, he'd known that since he was 12, and didn't do anything to stop his upcoming destruction.
His vision refocused on the screen in front of him. Cynthia.
Jordan jumped from his chair and ran out of the room. He grabbed his never-used keys off of the bookshelf and ran out the door. He opened his garage door to his shining black 2010 camaro. He climbed into the car, put his keys in the ignition, and pulled out of his garage. after making sure the garage door was shut behind him, he sped off to the crash-site. He stopped abruptly next to a large beam sticking out of the ground and jumped out of the car. Cynthia was gone.
What could he have expected? That she stay there, looking at a crashed train all day? No.
"Idiot!" he muttered to himself angrily. He fell back into the car and leaned back into the seat. He sighed again. He let out a long breath and started his car again. He pulled around and headed back home. What would he have even said, anyways? "Hi! I think I might love you" ? No. No guy can say that easily. Especially not if he knows inside that the girl may then end up falling for a man who believes himself to be a beast of nature. He shook his head sadly and started driving home. He flinched in finding Cynthia walking alone on the side of the road. He pulled over next to her and honked. It was her turn to flinch. She looked around, looking to see if the honk was meant for another. Jordan leaned across the car and opened the door. She walked slowly to the car and peeked in.
"Need a ride?" He said.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm really close to home, actually."
"You sure?" he asked, "I certainly don't mind taking you home, if needed."
"I'm pretty sure. Thanks though!"
"Alright... Well, I'll see you later then!"
"Absolutely!" she replied. She closed the passenger door for him, and walked on in the other direction.
Jordan swallowed down a knot in his throat and pulled back onto the road, returning home. Jordan felt like a part of his heart just died.
Jordan parked his car in his garage and walked to his front door.
Disappointment became despair. His house was a mess. It didn't look anything like how he'd left it. One thought rose to his mind.
He forgot to lock the door to his cellar.
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