Chapter 22

AMELIA

Neville opens the front door for me and steps to the side of the door, so I can enter the massive foyer my eyes have never seen. As I walk inside, I wonder why I have followed him to his home like a clueless deer waiting for someone to save her? Not more than a mere moment ago, the giant iron-wrought gates at the front opened up slowly when Arnold punched a series of numbers on the monitor's display set on the side wall. That little action reminded me of all those old late-night movies I had seen as a young kid where a kid's parents died in a tragic accident, and then the kid gets transferred with a neutral party to their legal guardian's home. Even though, in this case, the roles are reversed. Neither am I an orphan yet, nor Neville is my guardian by any means. Even playing that scenario in my head sounds extra funny to me.

Am I just a stupid girl relying on somebody?

Arnold takes off with the car once I'm inside the house to who knows where, and he doesn't follow us behind. I