Skeletons in the Closet

"...Why are you with him then? I mean, he's nice-looking and he seemed real polite, but you don't seem like... I dunno, you don't seem that happy. If his friends are fucking assholes and he's so high and mighty, why don't you leave him? You can come live with me whenever you want, you know that, and Nina would welcome you in her place, so accommodation ain't an issue. But hey, I've met the guy once for a few minutes and I barely know your relationship. I'm just going off how you talk about him, but... I dunno, maybe I'm comparing it to how you talked about Victor. They're totally different guys," he quietly shrugged as he stirred the straw around his coke, trying not to judge and get too opinionated, which had always gotten him into trouble in the past. Instead, he covered his tracks with some defending of Andrew and the relationship, however weak that defence was.
 
"Look, you don't understand, alright? He's really sweet, and really loving. He may not really agree with our sort of life, but he's done so many things for me. He's also pretty romantic, you know? He may seem a bit stuck-up, but I'm sure you'll realize he's a lot better than he seems, and you'll love him. He, on the other hand, needs to get rid of his judging, you know?" She insisted, while eyeing the time, only to grin.

"I haven't been out this late in months, seriously. I feel like an old lady, just without any cats. That's probably one of the only things that's wrong with our relationship. I want a cat, you know? Or two... or five... It would be a lot less lonely, while he's at work. He's working hard for us, you know? It means a lot - plus he's put so much effort in helping with my career. I shouldn't have to explain this, though. Hmph."
 
"Nah, it sounds like you're trying to convince me, and you know I'd rather just find out for myself. Pretty hard to do that when he can't get away from me and the bar fast enough, but hey, maybe he actually did have to work. Or maybe he just hated me. He had to hide back a grimace, but I guess, if I was him, I'd hate me too. I'm a mess and I'd been smoking weed for an hour before you came, so... yeah, he has a reason to dislike me." Trey admitted as he absently scratched at one of the scars on his arm, though, despite the sight of them, he failed to really get the message he was ruining his body with drugs. He had never really been one to care about himself. he cared about others a great deal, but he'd gladly ruin himself without consideration.

"Are you gonna visit the grave tomorrow? I'll come with 'ya. I visit it every month if I can, put down some flowers. He hated flowers, so I'm putting them there deliberately. It'd piss him off, and I like the idea of him cussing me out from wherever he is, y'know? Nina keeps the grave in good condition, so it's pretty nice-- but if I die before you, which is likely, make sure I'm cremated, yeah? I don't wanna be buried."
 
"Don't say that, please..." she whispered, while staring down at her now-flat, barely touched drink. "You're not going to die before me, alright? We're going to both die at the exact same time, so neither one of us will have to deal with being bummed, how about that? I don't want to lose someone important to me ever again, so either you have to die later, or we both have to be immortal," she teased, desperate to lighten the mood she admittedly just lowered.

"Yeah, I was planning on going. I mean, I've been planning on this for a whole year now, you know? I don't think I could handle seeing it without you, so I'm glad I have no excuse now, at least. We... We could go tonight, if you wanted? I think that, if I wait until tomorrow, I'll convince myself not to go at all. It's hard, y'know?"
 
"Why don't we go right now? I'm not really that hungry, I'll be honest, and... I dunno, going to see the grave is more important than staring hopelessly at the pizza guy I crush on, ain't it? I can do that tomorrow. It feels pretty important to go and see the grave now," he decided, consolidating that decision as he rose to his feet and downed the rest of his soda in one or two gulps, determined not to waste the money he'd spent on it.

"It ain't that far from here. Going to a graveyard at night probably isn't the best idea, but I've had a lot to drink so it doesn't seem too bad. I don't believe in ghosts anyway, so it ain't a problem," he laughed, offering out his arm for her to hold onto, as he usually did when they walked together.
 
Hazel took no time in clinging onto Trey's side, snorting at the other's words. "Sure, ghosts probably exist. Yeah, we've never seen one before, but we didn't known dinosaurs existed for awhile, right? Maybe ghosts are real, but just have never been discovered? Isn't that a thing that scientists say all the time? 'Don't assume anything'?"

Once on the street, Hazel gave a last glance towards the pizza parlor before pausing to rummage through her bag and pull out a pack of cigarettes. Offering one to the other, she lit hers easily before handing over the cigarette. While Andrew would argue about her health, saying that she needed to take care of herself for him, the many matching scar marks on her arms were evidence that she had done much worse, and easily used that against her boyfriend whenever critiqued. Once settled, she continued down the street with a light shiver.
 
Balancing the cigarette inbetween his lips to light it up, he offered one of his signature lopsided grins in gratitude. It did feel wrong, being this happy on the anniversary of his best friend's death, but he wasn't going to deny how much he had missed Hazel, and like hell was he going to suppress his delight at sharing her company again. They had other friends -a whole group, really- but Victor, Hazel and Trey were definitely the closest. Not a day really went past without them seeing each other and hanging out at the bar, or at the pizza parlour, or just at the park. He understood her reasons for staying away, definitely, but... well, he wished she hadn't. He had had to grieve too, and clearly, given the escalation of his drug habit, he didn't grieve in the best ways possible.

His happy mood almost immediately evaporated the moment he found Victor's grave, though, and not just because of how sombre it was to be face-to-face with it. Instead, what sucked his happiness away was the fact the grave had been all but destroyed. it would take a lot of time and effort to smash it up so effectively, which made Trey realise that this was intentional and deliberate by someone who knew Victor and, Trey thought, hated him. That was hard to believe, given how well-liked Victory genuinely had been, but he really didn't have any other reasons to justify this.

"I... shit, stay there, Hazel," he quickly quipped, bending down onto the grass to assess the damage, at least thankful for the overhead streetlamps. Before he had a chance to really stand up, though, he crashed out on the grass after briefly registering a knock to the back of the head.

The perpetrator? Victor. Presumably he'd managed to escape from the facility for a second time, though unlike the first, he'd had to resort to extreme measures, if the blood drowning the white clothing and his face was evidence to go by. He hadn't exactly expected anyone to be up by the grave after he'd smashed it up -a few sadistic guards at the facility had made it clear to him that everyone thought he was dead- which was why he wasted several seconds just staring at Hazel. When realising this was probably surreal for her, he reached out to grab her wrists to ensure she didn't just run. It wasn't every day you were met with the boyfriend you thought you'd buried, after all. Especially when he was covered in blood.

"We... We need to go, Haze. Got that? Just... f-fuck, they're gonna come and they're gonna fucking take me back, so we gotta go right now. I'll... I'll grab Trey, I just... didn't want him asking questions-- I can hear 'em, s-so we really gotta rush. Thank fuck you're here, I... I didn't know where I'd find you, b-but we can talk about that later, yeah?"
 
Hazel was frozen in horror; first, from the totally destroyed headstone that admittedly took a big chunk out of Hazel's, Nina's and Trey's pockets, then from witnessing her best friend knocked out by none other than her presumed dead ex-boyfriend, who just so happened to be practically swimming in blood. Fearfully, she tried to tug away from Victor's grip, only falling to the ground from the wet ground. Naturally, her second reaction was to begin to sob, and let out a shriek of horror.

"T-This...This can't be real. This can't be fucking real - you can't be alive. I saw you, w-with a bullet through your fucking head." She managed through her gross sobbing, her nearly perfect makeup now staining her cheeks, matching the blood that stained Victor's. "I don't know what's going on, I-I can't be this fucking high, I-I..."
 
"I... I can explain, really I can, I just-- this isn't how I wanted to see you. I was gonna clean up, y'know? Come f-find you tomorrow, but... h-hey, Haze? I haven't really got the time to be doing this. God knows you must be terrified, 'cause they... they fucking shot me right in front of you, b-but... I really can't explain right this second, alright? So... So unless you want me to carry you, we r-really need to start getting a move on--" He began hurriedly, having already hitched Trey up into his arms when the nearby sound of a car screeching to a halt became apparent in what was otherwise stark silence. As soon as he saw the faraway torches standing out in the dark of the night, he instantly grimaced and motioned to them, hoping Hazel would realise he was being tracked down and chased, and time was pretty much of the essence.

"S-Seriously, just-- take me somewhere they won't find me and I'll explain, a-and clean up, and... And unless you wanna see me with another bullet in my head, I suggest we get going," he sternly demanded, even if the only thing he wanted to do was sit on the ground and comfort her. He realised the moment he came around in the facility that seeing Hazel again would horrify her, given she saw him receiving a bullet in the head that should have killed him. This only meant he had to explain to her properly, and hope she didn't think she was going crazy.
 
Her eyes darted back and forth between him and the shouts from the woods, and reluctantly decided to run, as who she hoped was her boyfriend, suggested. Hurrying from the graveyard, she would be proud of herself and how fast she could run in heeled boots... if it weren't for the fact that she was on the verge of passing out and desperate to just keep a quick pace.

The only place she could think of was the abandoned home the two would often spend time in on occasion, when their own home grew too cramped, or they just wanted to be able to have something different. Looking around nervously, she forced her way into the boarded up house with a few strong kicks, thanking whatever higher being there was for not breaking her heels in the process. Once inside, she hurried up to the house's attic, and proceeded to vomit into a box that had been tossed to the side, both out of stress and the obviously unhealthy amount of alcohol.

The vomiting soon turned to sobbing once again, as she clung to the box's edges and scooted to the corner of the room. She avoided eyes with Victor, hoping that if she did, her 'drug induced vision' would go away.
 
Setting Trey down as carefully as he could on a nearby mattress, that of which he'd often snuggled up with Hazel on while listening to the rain, he hesitated as he watched his girlfriend cry, before deciding she wasn't going to react positively if he headed over to comfort her... especially when he'd just cover her with blood. Instead, he took a seat on the edge of the mattress and pulled off the blood-soaked shirt, if only to make his appearance less terrifying.

"...I, uh... I get that this is... f-fuck Hazel, I understand, alright? Do you have a cigarette, o-or a joint? A joint would be preferable, I'm fucking... I've been through hell, like you obviously have, and... and I just want to hug you, but I can't do that because you'll freak out, understandably, s-so I'm just... I'm gonna sit here and... hopefully you can realise you're not, like, hallucinating? I'd offer you to slap me to make sure I'm real, but... a-anyway..." He bitterly laughed, kicking off the dirtied and muddied socks he'd run from the facility in, while taking into account just how nice it was to be out of the blindingly white room and not having scientists stare at him all day and night.

"You look great. I mean, besides the makeup down your face," he shyly smiled, beginning to bite and tug at his bottom lip, which was one of his habits when he was nervous. Another was to bite his nails, which he then started to do when he realised he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "How... How long's it been, exactly? I... I've kinda been... out of it, really. I didn't know if it was day or night most the time, so... yeah, I'd guess it's been a few months? You had black hair last time I saw you."
 
"It's been a year!" She snapped, while wiping her makeup on the sleeve of her dress. "A whole fucking year! Was this all a joke? What, did you not want to be with me anymore, so you had to fake your fucking death? Either that, or I'm just fucking crazy. Maybe this is all some fucked up nightmare after passing out at the bar, o-or maybe at the pizza place? I don't - oh god."

Once again did Hazel get sick, her body shaking hard. Her own nervous habit was to run her fingers through her hair, which is just what she began to do as she stared at the man, taking him in fully as she forced back the initial urge to vomit, and the second urge to stab the fuck out of him. After all, this had to be an impostor. Sadly, she had left her trusty knife at home under Andrew's insistence.

"Who the fuck are you? Y-You're not Victor, I saw him being buried!" She growled, her upset now fully turning to anger. "I saw him get shot in the fucking head! This is some fucked up shit, this isn't funny at all."
 
Despite his tall frame and, as some would say, his intimidating appearance, Victor really wasn't the sort of man to even raise his voice. He'd always shied away from conflict, shuffled on his feet while his girlfriend defended him, and now was no different: his shoulders hunched and he grimaced, eyes locking on the floor to try and avoid the anger and the upset aimed at him.

"I died for a few minutes. It was enough for them to take me, I assume they pretended to be paramedics and ambulance drivers, it's the only way they could have-- I... What do you want me to say, Hazel? The truth's fucking insane. You aren't gonna believe me. Hey, babe, I'm not human, how about that? I'm actually fucking immortal. If I had a gun, I'd be tempted to shoot my brains out to prove it to you, but that'd be reckless and do more damage to you than I.... than I'd want, so..." Breathing out heavily, he began absently picking at a cut on his palm that had recently healed over, but picking at the cut and reopening the wound made him focus on something other than Hazel. He didn't want to look at her, because when he did, he just wanted to rush over and embrace her-- and clearly that wasn't what she wanted right now.

"I don't know who they buried instead of me, but it... it wasn't me," the tattooed man eventually mumbled into the silence, finally bracing himself and lifting his eyes from the floor. "There's a lot of shit I haven't told you, but I... I'm exhausted, Haze. I just want to sleep. I've d-done a lot of stuff tonight I never ever wanted t-to do. I... f-fuck, I did a lot of bad stuff," he continued, pressing his hands into his eyes. Even if the guards at the facility and a few scientists deserved everything they got, it was typical of Victor to regret killing them. He wasn't violent, and he'd never hit anyone in his life... let alone snapping their necks and tearing them apart by the mouth. When those images flashed in his head, he pressed his fists into his face harder, just to prevent tears from leaking out. He knew he was in the right to do what he did after everything they did to him, but right now, it didn't feel like he'd done anything remotely good.
 
"What the fuck are you even talking about?!" She shouted, and began to pace nervously. "What do you mean, you died for a few minutes? People don't just 'die for a few minutes'! God, do you think I'm some moron? Where were you, then? Where were you, for a fucking year, that you couldn't see me?"

Pausing her pacing, if only for a moment, she turned to stare at him with narrowed eyes. "Oh, you're exhausted, yeah? You're exhausted? Well, that's pretty fucking unfortunate, huh? Here I thought you were taking a dirt nap, you asshole. Do you know how fucking upset I was? How upset Nina was?! All because you decided to fuck off to who-knows-where for a year?!"
 
It was true that he didn't raise his voice often, but he had spent half the night killing a bunch of people and running for god knows how long, all of which occurred in his real form which he hadn't used since he was a child. It was fair to say that the disuse of anger was slightly skewed at the moment, which was evident the moment he got to his feet and shot her a glare.

"Don't fucking yell at me like that, Haze. You really want to know? I was dragged off to a fucking facility in the middle of goddamn nowhere, had needles shoved into me and locked up in some white room for a year. Why? I already told you that. I ain't fucking human. I'll gladly show you, how about that? If you listen to those scientists, I'm a goddamn monster," he breezily huffed, his anger ebbing away just a little as he blinked back any urge he apparently had to turn there and then. That, he realised, would just make things worse, if she didn't believe him.

"...I didn't voluntarily leave, asshole. Do you really think I'd do that? Then again, I got shot in the head, so... yeah, I get why you'd think I'd faked the whole thing. If it helps, I still have some of the bullet in my head, so that's proof, ain't it? That I was actually shot-- gimme a knife, and I'll cut it right out, here and now," he offered, while absently reaching behind his ear with a faint grunt. "It's definitely lodged in there, it's fucking painful... Not that you care right now, that's... totally fine... I'm gonna stay here a while, if that's cool? You saw those guys chasing me, Hazel. You ain't fucking dumb. Doesn't that fit in with my narrative, just a little bit?"
 
"... why did you never tell me this? Why did you just decide to never mention the fact that there was a bunch of guys apparently chasing after you, because you're some crazy fucking monster? We were together for, how many years? Was I just supposed to deal with my boyfriend being shot in the head?! I think that, I dunno, you told me this, I'd be a little bit more understanding?!" She easily snapped back, despite the other's anger surprising her, naturally.

"If I had my knife, I would. You really can't expect me to believe that you were just faux killed and forced into some Orwellian facility - why do they care about you? No offense, babe, but you're no superhero." She grumbled, her anger slowly simmering to be replaced with sudden depression, as she wiped tears away quickly.

"Fuck off. I spend a year trying to get over you, found a guy who could make me feel better, and you just decide to come back out of the blue? That's... fucking dickish, if I've ever seen so myself."
 
Given everything she'd just been subjected to, Victor wisely chose to shut his mouth and just let her rant, even if she was completely in the wrong by blaming him. The only thing he knew he was at true fault for was not telling her at the beginning. He surely couldn't have the blame put on him for arriving back, as though he'd stayed away purposely. He would try to explain that to her, tell her that he'd been locked up and had to resort to some pretty brutal tactics to get out back home to her... but clearly she wanted to put the blame on him, which he understood. It probably made her feel better.

"...You have a new boyfriend? I... I didn't-- no, that's fine, I... you thought I'd died, that's... it's fine," he babbled, the repetition and constant smiling showing that it was anything but fine-- but he was mature enough not to show just how hard-hitting that news was. "...For the record, I didn't know how to tell you, a-and besides, you can yell at me all you want, but I've done nothing wrong. I-I should have told you the truth when we met, sure, but... you wouldn't have been my friend, or my girlfriend, and... I dunno, if I did tell you the truth, I'm pretty sure they'd have shot you in the head too, Hazel. How is it my fault I was kidnapped?! I-I came back because I didn't want to be there, and you're putting that blame on ME?! F-Fuck, do what you want, I guess. I'm the bad guy, so yeah, I'm at fucking fault for everything."
 
Growing silent, Hazel took a seat on the dusted boards, staring at the ladder up to the attic with pursed lips. She remained silent for quite awhile, her only real sign of anything was her wiping her eye clear of tears, and her mouth of remaining vomit. With a sniffle, she eventually glanced over at Victor, and offered a meek smile.

"Look, I am beyond fucking pissed that you didn't tell me about all of... this," she began, motioning towards Victor's blood-stained outfit, "but I'm glad you're alright, at least. Trey can attest, I pretty much cried for a week straight. I thought that, maybe it was my fault that we were out that day. I could have said no, that I didn't want to go, but it was something nice, y'know? I j-just... Yeah, I'm dating someone. He's a nice guy, his name is Andrew. I'd love for you to meet him, if you'd like? He's, ah... he's treated me well. I don't know what we're going to do, though. I can't introduce you as my dead boyfriend, right?"
 
"I'm not being funny Haze, but did you really want to know about this? 'Cause, y'know, we'd never have dated if I told you right at the start that, hey, I'm not human! I'm actually pretty fucking monstrous. Hardly the best conversation starter, is it? Look, do you have a cigarette, 'cause I'm gonna pass out if I don't have one. Those assholes didn't give me a single one over the year, y'know? I'm having serious withdrawal symptoms," he grunted while absently scratching shapes into the floor with a shard of glass he'd found near the corner of the room, no doubt from one of the beers he'd drunk up in the attic at some point.

"I don't think I wanna meet your fucking boyfriend, don't be dumb. Andrew? Sounds like a tosser," he continued bitterly, albeit with a quiet smile on his face as he finally looked up again to meet her eyes. "...I'm glad, I guess. That you had someone to look out for you-- not that you need that, obviously, you're the toughest person I know-- Look, you do believe me, don't you? Because I'd rather not prove it, to be honest, and even if you hate me, I've been through a lot of shit, and I'd prefer not to scare the hell out of you, if that's alright."
 
"If you really are this disgusting, monstrous beast, I really don't think it could be that bad. I'm no pussy, Vic, I haven't once freaked out over a horror movie... unlike you," she offered lightly, before tossing the pack of cigarettes and her lucky lighter over. She was upset, and incredibly confused, but she would never deny someone a good cig.

"He can be a bit lame, yeah. He's pretty pretentious, actually. I have no doubts that he'd, like, spit on any of our friends. He pretty much guilt me out of doing some fun shit, you know? At least he helps financially, plus he can be really sweet- I really hope you're not mad at me, it's hardly fair. Like I said, I thought you were buried, rotting away in a coffin."
 
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