You've Got a Friend in Me (Vio & Minibit)

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Minibit, Oct 25, 2015.

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    • A roleplay between Vio and Minibit

      Trigger warnings: Drug use, suicide, violence, dark themes

    9:00 a.m.
    Trevor's grey eyes snapped open. The sun was up, but the chill of the dawn still lingered, cooling the air in his room to icy levels with every gust of wind through the open window. He'd fallen asleep on top of his covers, and his pale skin was covered in goosebumps, his mouth felt dry; his lips cracked and peeling and a fuzz covered his tongue.

    He sniffed, and pulled himself upright. It felt like any other day, he observed, licking his lips in a vain impulse to refresh them. He had had a vague notion that today would be different. The way the end-space of a game board is always a different colour than those on the way.

    It was almost enough to dampen his resolve, this day being the same as all the endless days before and doubtlessly after it. Almost.

    His hair fell forward, dangling almost over his eyes as he shook the fog from his vision. Most of it. It would never all be gone, he knew that. Well, not as long as he was alive, which was what passed for 'never' in mortal terms. Bit selfish, when one thought about it.

    There were some clothes laid out at the foot of his bed. He'd got them ready the night before. All clean; he'd made sure. It felt right, for it to be all clean clothes today. Appropriate. Washed-out blue jeans and a green tee shirt. A big black hoodie that fit him once before he dropped two classes below a healthy body weight. Now it hung off him like a shroud, casting an extra shadow on the dark circled face staring back from his bedroom mirror.

    He'd come very near to punching that mirror, it seemed like forever ago. But it didn't matter; he could smash the mirror, he could cut his fists to ribbons and bash his bony face in it, it wouldn't change a damn thing. He could throw the mirror out the window, watch it sail through the air down to the lawn and shatter over the neighbours damn dog while it whimpered and bled on the grass. Time would move on in its endless ocean, and he would continue to float along over it, sliding through and over everything without really touching it, like a fog.

    He blinked away from the mirror, opened the door. Down the hall, Nana was puttering about. He took the hallway in shuffling steps, and paused at the end until he heard the front door's latch click and the screen snap shut over it before he entered the kitchen.

    He figured he oughta give his Nan a proper goodbye, but they hadn't exchanged words in ages and he didn't want to blow the whole operation by tipping her off.

    He grabbed a box of cereal out of the cupboard. He guessed he must have grabbed the bowl, too. He didn't remember doing it. He didn't remember doing a lot of things, these days; so much of it was just routine, robotic moments ingrained in his fingers that didn't even register in his brain anymore.

    He took the cereal over to the kitchen table, and sat on the opposite side to the window, looking out of it.

    Nana's minivan hummed to life and gradually faded out as she drove it down the street, accompanied by the yapping of the neighbour's terrier. That dog barked at everything.

    The cereal crunched between his teeth, a soft percussion section to the slowly layering noises of the neighbourhood coming to life. It was supposed to taste like fruit. It didn't.

    Nana would be back in a few hours, he mused, watching drops of milk splash off of the spoon. He'd have to make sure to be back in his room by then. She'd be home a while between coming back from church and leaving for bingo. His plan involved doing It while she was gone, but now he wasn't sure. Maybe it'd be better while she was home.

    No, if he messed it up and she was home, there was every chance she'd get him to a hospital and he'd survive. If he messed it up home alone, the worst case scenario was that he would bleed out instead of dying immediately of a hole in the brain.

    He could live with that.

    He chuckled dryly at his own irony, and glanced at the clock ticking its dreary way through the hours. The space between now and when Nana got back wasn't time enough, he'd wait til she came and left again. He could get ready, though. He guessed there was more to dying than figuring out what to wear.

    Goodbyes were important, he supposed. If he wasn't going to give even his Nan a proper one in person, he guessed he could write some notes. Yeah, notes. Not e-mails or texts, those were too fast. He'd have a bunch of writing to do, and he didn't need anyone coming to find out the reasoning behind one message before he was done writing the rest of them. He had paper in his room, wasn't like he'd be using it for anything else.

    He put his bowl in the sink and rinsed it out. Any other day he'd have left it dirty for the milk to sour and the cereal to stick to the porcelain like grainy glue. But he supposed Nana would have enough to deal with without the extra dishes.

    He felt a little bad about Nan, he really did, but she'd get by. She'd survived worse - well, comparable. Besides, overall it would be a relief; he guessed at the very least she'd get over a good part of her grief once she noticed how money stopped slipping out of her savings account like water through a sieve.

    He closed the bedroom door behind him, but didn't bother locking it. He'd decided on the way from the kitchen that he wanted to shower before he did it, so he'd be leaving the room at least one more time.

    He sat down heavily - as heavily as a nearly twenty-pounds-underweight kid could manage - at his desk, and pulled out a plain spiral notebook. It'd do. He felt like he should be writing on special stationery, but he didn't have any and going to the store to get some seemed a bit excessive. Besides, it was what he wrote that counted, right?

    He glanced aside, at the ipod sitting docked in its speakers, the green battery icon slowly filling and emptying in a continuous loop. Music couldn't hurt.

    The strums of an acoustic guitar floated through the speakers and filled the room as he found a pen and tapped it against the paper.

    How did one start a note like this, anyway? His last chance to speak to anyone, to tell them what was inside his heart, his head all this time; what were the right words to use?

    One by one, they came to him. Note by note, signed and dated like homework, folded and placed into neat little envelopes with names on them, stacked on the corner of the desk.

    It took most of the day to get done, by the time he was through with it, he really needed a hit.

    He'd decided ahead of time that he wanted to go out on a high note, quite literally. He'd been saving his last line for today, and speaking as an addict, he considered this his last great accomplishment. The last hit was a ritual all its own. He cleared the desk of his letter-writing paraphernalia and cleaned his straw. He always used the same one, and admittedly it was probably pretty gross, but it would never be anything but golden in his eyes; the implement that scattered the fog his atoms became between highs, and reformed him into a person with shape and form and feeling again.

    It burned in his nose, like a shot straight to the bottom of his brain, and spreading upward like electricity.

    His heart raced, his breathing felt rapid like a hummingbird, and stars exploded across his vision.

    For a second he wondered if it had been too much, and he leaned forward, pinching his nose; it felt like it was bleeding. It did sometimes, these days; out of nowhere occasionally, but almost always after a line. He stood up, vaguely aware of the squeak his chair made pushing it back, and paced the room. The high crackled through his bones - would have electrified his muscles but he was pretty sure he didn't have any of those anymore. How weird was that? He was basically just a skeleton. An electrical skeleton in skin.

    I should shower now

    The thought popped into his head like a bubble in a river; foaming with a thousand others as the rest of his brain crashed around it

    I should shower now while sensations mean something

    He snatched his towel off the back of the door and marched to the bathroom, turning the tap on without really looking at the temperature. He watched his reflection in the glass until it was too foggy to see any more.

    Good. His reflection scared him a bit, sometimes. It was too skinny, and his cheeks and eyes were marked with dark circles that had a worrying gray tone to them. His eyes seemed bigger too, and not in a nice way. They stared out from beneath his hair like lost lamps.

    The water was too hot; it sizzled over his skin like lava, and he turned his face up to it, holding a hand up. He watched the skin slowly abandon its grayish-pink shade in favour of a more alarming red.

    He wondered if it would hurt.

    He wondered if he'd forgotten any notes.

    He wondered if it was really this simple all along.

    He wondered when they'd find him

    He wondered who Gran would call. The ambulance? He'd be pretty obviously past their services by the time she got home.

    He wondered about the mess.

    His blood would be everywhere; bits of his brain and skull too, probably. He'd chosen the gun specifically to accomodate an explosive round; his brain would be soup as soon as the trigger was pulled. Lumpy soup. It'd be a lousy thing to walk in on.

    Belatedly, it occurred to him that she might not walk in on it at all.

    His going to bed early and remaining quiet until dawn was not unusual; in fact for him to stay in his room until well past tea was not strange in the least. He might be very smelly and staining the whole damn floor by the time she had reason to try coming into his room.

    If she heard a shot, she'd come right away, but he'd have to get it right; he couldn't afford to make it to the hospital; it was already taking all day to psych up for one try. One try was all he'd get, and it was all he needed.

    So then, before she left for Bingo.

    Trevor realized he was shivering, and turned the tap off. The water dribbled down noisily off the shower head, and he groped around outside the curtain for a towel. He put his clothes back on with his hair still wet, and returned to his room.

    Well, that put a time limit on it. She left at around six, it was already three.

    The music he'd put on earlier was still playing.

    Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you
    By now, you should've somehow realized what you've gotta do

    He inhaled slowly, feeling the breath inside his lungs before he exhaled it past his dry lips, and licked them again in vain.

    It was in the dresser drawer, and felt heavy in his hand, gleaming somberly in the afternoon light.

    He decided to sit on his bed. If he sat at the desk, it might get on the letters and ruin them, and he wasn't sure he could keep his feet steady enough to do it standing.

    He thought he'd have to convince himself; he heard about people psyching themselves up; listening to angry music, talking to themselves, enumerating their failures and dysfunctions to amp up despair to an appropriate level. He wondered that he didn't feel compelled to do any of that. His hand was steady, his breathing as regular as it possibly could be on the tail end of a respectable high. He'd be coming down soon; it was lasting less and less time these days.

    Swallowing, he looked around the room. It was relatively clean; he had dirty clothes but they were in the bin. There was dust on his desk and dresser but the stuff on them was in order. His bed was a mess but who made their bed, anyway? Was anyone going to come and see his body on the messy bed, his brains staining the pillows and think "Oh, of course he offed himself, look how messy his bed was"? Nope. Nobody would give a shit.

    He turned it over in his hand, wondering about angle. He'd read a bit on the subject, opinions seemed to diverge on whether the shot was better from the temple or the back of the throat. Trevor wasn't dumb enough to think dignity counted for squat in either case, he just needed it to be done in one go. Especially if he was going to do it within the next few hours, while Nan was still in the house and could know right away before he became a smelly, decomposing corpse that could get her sick or something.

    He'd heard that shooting from the throat was hard to aim; you could aim too low and end up just shooting your spinal cord, ending up paralyzed.

    On the other hand, it was hard to tell from the temple, too; depending on the bullet he could blow a hole straight through his brain, and it'd hurt like hell but if he didn't bleed out his brain would work around the missing tissue. Brains were cool like that. He'd gotten an explosive round; it should be soup, but he couldn't exactly afford a do-over, and it wasn't the sort of thing that tested easily.

    He tested it in his mouth first; the barrel tasted metallic and vaguely oily. He tested the maneuverability, aiming toward the roof of his mouth and imagining an vector line; straight through the middle, or should it be toward the back?

    Funny thing about suicide; nobody good at it was around to advise those who followed.

    He licked his dry lips again as he removed the gun and placed it against his temple instead.

    Yeah, that felt right.

    It was easy to figure out a position, he thought, settling on the temple position as the barrel fit with an almost comfortable weight in the small indentation between his ear and eyebrow, where the bone felt thin and soft and where the round would explode from the centre-side of his brain, blowing bits of metal and bone through his grey matter until it was soup.

    He closed his eyes, the instrument sounded loud as he cocked it; the revolving chamber right next to his ear. The gun was an antique; it had been his grandfather's. He learned how to load it on the internet. He wondered if Nana realized how long it'd been missing.

    He exhaled, slowly; everything seemed to slow down. All he could hear was the buzzing live-wires of his brain, the whisper of breath through his throat and past his lips. His free hand on the bedspread; steadying him for the moment, but it'd be useless once the shot fired; he'd drop like a sack of potatoes. He wondered which direction; probably left, away from the gun.

    He closed his eyes and swallowed past the dizziness. So this was the way it ended; peacefully, prepared for, orderly. Who'd have figured this was the thing he got to avoid screwing up?

    'Go me.' he thought

    He'd always had a weird combination of detachment and hyper-awareness during a high, and even as it started to fade, he felt critically aware of the movement of each individual muscle as his shoulders tensed instinctively for impact, his eyelids stayed shut, but not squeezed, and pressure began its intricate chain reaction through the muscles of his right forefinger on the trigger.
    #1 Minibit, Oct 25, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 16, 2016
  1. 10:00 Am

    Karalynn could feel the sunlight peeking through the front windows of the guest bedroom against her skin. She knew that the morning was passing, but was fading in and out of consciousness. Her body wasn't ready to wake up yet until now, yet despite that she turned away from the illuminated windows. With the sun no longer beating down on her eyelids she dreamed lucidly for a while, but there was something she could hear that was making it difficult. There was the three dogs down stairs barking away for a while, but as she began to focus more on her surroundings she finally noticed that there was sounds coming from her head phones. Her eye lids fluttered open to reveal grey-hazel like eyes to the new day. Instinctively Karalynn looked at her phone first to look at the time, but groaned at the sight of a data usage warning on her phone. Annoyed she quickly looked to see what happened, and found that she had fell asleep to her ASMR sound track before she could turn it off last night. While it did what it was supposed to, Karalynn couldn't help but be annoyed with herself for not getting thw wifi password from her grandmother.

    After closing out of her apps she tossed the phone aside and yanked the covers above her head. She wasn't ready to wake up and face the shitty world she lived in. Unfortunately the loud demands and grumbles of her stomach rang out into her ears, and once again she sighed. Flinging the covers off her she grabbed her phone to check through all her messaging apps. Karalynn said good morning to some of her online friends on skype, and then forced herself out of bed. She wondered what her grandmother Alice had made her for breakfast this morning. Pulling on her boyfriends black hoodie she sluggishly made her way over to the door that opened up to the next room. Pulling the door open she was immediately greated by Zach the middle child of her grandmother's schnouziers.

    "Heh...good morning boy." Karalynn's voice groggily greeted the sweet dog before stepping down a small flight of stairs that lead to the next room. It was only about four steps down into the room, the bed to the left as one descended., and then to the right there was a steeper stairway that lead into the downstairs kitchen. Karalynn mused quietly to herself as she looked down the steps to see the other two schnauzers, Zina and Zoey, excitedly making their way up the steps. "Hey guys, I know I know." The girl murmurs to herself as a small yawn escapes out of her diaphragm. She carefully made her way down the carpeted steps, and making sure to have a firm grip on the wall railing as she walked down. Ever since her fall back in high school Karalynn had made it a habit to always grip any support railing available for anything. Since then she's actually saved herself from falling twice at home. Finally reaching the bottom floor she found her grandmother sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. The exchanged good mornings like they typically would, and the kind elderly woman asked what Karalynn would like for breakfast. Karalynn hadn't really given breakfast much thought since she typically didn't eat breakfast at all. Sometimes if she ate breakfast these days she would get sick afterwards so she tend to avoid it all together. This was a special occasion, since this was her belated birthday plans with her biological father's parents, her grandparents by blood. She didn't get to see them often, so refusing anything from them felt...well.. awkward.

    "Hm does waffles sound good?"

    "Oh, yeah sure! I'll pretty much eat anything." Karalynn chimed a bit sincerely. While it is true that Karalynn did not eat breakfast, or much in general, she would still eat anything that was given to her. If anything she just wouldn't eat it all unless she was very hungry. The waffles and other breakfast foods didn't really take that long for her grandmother to make, so while Karalynn waited she sat at the table on her phone. She scrolled through facebook, looked at skype, and even checked to see if she had any new alerts on her favorite role-playing website. Eventually after some time her grandmother brought her a plate and a glass of milk to drink. There was the late foot steps of her grandfather Bill in the hall way and the opening of the doggy gate. She gave her grandfather a pleasant smile as he told her good morning and then sat in his seat. Once everyone was properly seated with their food they began eating breakfast. The three of them talked leisurely while they ate, though it would soon be a blur later that day. Once breakfast was over they all cleaned up the kitchen and went about their own devices. Grandaddy Bill went back to his office, Karalynn went into the living room to watch netflix, and her grandmommy Alice either went outside or upstairs with the dogs.

    At some point around noon her grandmother made her a sandwich and they both sat in the living room and watched a movie they had started the previous night. It was a pretty good sandwich made with ham, cheese, and mayo. After she finished with her sandwich Karalyn got up from the couch to toss away her plate. It was safe to say that she was starting to feel a bit bored like she always did, but there was no denying the fact that she was okay with feeling a little dull. Looking around the kitchen she finally found her birthday cake from last night and cut herself a new slice. It has only been a few days since she turned twenty, and if you were to ask her she would tell you she felt exactly the same. With a subtle sigh she brushed her finger against the cardboard the cake sat upon and picked up a good chunk of buttercream icing. The young woman then proceeded to put her finger into her own mouth and lick off the icing. After getting a taste of such delicious sweetness Karalynn immediately felt a bit better about whatever it was that was ruining her mood. After retrieving a shiny fork she entered the living room and plopped down unto the couch once again. Karalynn ate the cake steadily, savoring each bite while the movie reached its end. When it finally did end her grandmother got up to go do something some where else in the house.

    "What to watch now..." Karalynn sighed quietly as she picked up the TV remote and pressed the return button. The Netflix home menu lit up the plasma TV and the girl began scrolling through the selections until coming across the show she had started watching the night before called The 100. She started the show and blew through one or two episodes before her grandmother came back into the show with two baggies in her hand. Curious and intrigued Karalynn immediately asked what the pictures in the baggies are. Her grandmother then took a seat next to her and she began explaining all the pictures she had were from when Karalynn was younger. One by one she showed Karalynn people she hardly remembered anymore save for their pitbull timber and her own mother. The picture of Timber quickly reminded Karalynn of her deceased yellow lab Charlie, and her currently dying lab Lucy. Though she immediately pushed that aside wanting to focus on the other pictures her grandmother was trying to show her. Eventually they came across a picture of Karalynn playing with a baby boy with dark hair. Karalynn stopped at that picture wanting to know more about another playmate she once again had forgotten about. Karalynn was disappointed with the fact that she didn't have any child hood friends growing up, and always wondered why her mother decided to keep her away from other children when they moved around. Unfortunately, her grandmother's opinion of the boy Trevor wasn't someone with an outstanding personality or a good natured kid. Still, Karalynn wanted to meet him, and while her grandmother wasn't fond of the idea she agreed.

    Ecstatic Karalynn rushed upstairs to get shower and get dress. Stepping into the bathroom she turned on the water to the desired setting and stepped away from the shower to undress. After stripping herself of all her clothes in the mirror she leaned forward closer to the large frame of glass and inspected her skin. She had a few small pimples here and there on her forehead, and as usual she carefully popped each one. With nothing left to look at Karalynn then proceeded into the warm water. I wonder what he is going to be like....Karalynn's thoughts began to wander as she imagined scenarios in her head of what would happen. Though she never really got to the actual boy. While she bathed she could only imagine speaking with Trevor's grandmother who told her to head to his room, but when she approached the boys door her mind would go blank. Maybe it was just the girl being nervous, but there could be a number of reasons as to why she was drawing a blank. After thoroughly cleaning her wet hair and figure she turned off the water and quickly dried off with a fluffy towel. The first thing the young girl did after stepping out was check her phone to see how long she was showering. She was in there thinking to herself for quite some time, around twenty minutes. Setting her phone to the side she pulled on her stripped underwear and then proceeded to dry her hair with her grandmother's blow drier. Slowly, very slowly, the dark wet hair turned into soft dirty blonde locks that cascaded down to her shoulders. Karalynn smiled to herself in the mirror while she set down the drier, then pulled on the rest of her outfit. She decided to wear a grey tank top that was embellished with print. Five large feathers of various colors were printed unto the grey tank top, and a pair of light blue shorts that matched one of the feathers. Then she pulled on her boyfriend's black hoodie again and a black hair tie unto her wrist. Ready to go meet a potential new friend she immediately headed down stairs to get the picture of Trevor and herself and some cake to share.

    By this time it was already pretty late in the evening, so when she walked over to the house on the left she came across an elderly woman pulling into the drive way and turn the car off. Oh that must be the Trevor's grandma...I hope she is nice...Karalynn though to herself as she could feel her own anxiety starting to plague her. She was starting to feel awkward about the situation, but never the less pushed herself to continue. The grandmother almost instantly notice Karalynn come over and gave Karalynn a wave.

    "Can I help you?" The grandmother asked her curiously, but almost defensively as if she found it strange to see a girl approach her with cake and a baggie of photos.

    "Yes, uhm...I'm Alice's granddaughter. Your daughter used to be friends with my mom Kristen.... a-and I used to play with Trevor when I was baby. I figured I'd come over and say hi? I have some baby pictures to show him...oh! And cake! I have cake too!" Karalynn chimed awkwardly as she raised the cake in her arms forward hoping that what she just stuttered out would be enough to get her inside to meet Trevor. The grandmother smiled and nodded to Karalynn. She then asked her what her name was because she couldn't remember. "Oh, I'm Kaden. N-nice to meet you." She said a bit sheepishly.

    "Alright come on inside. Trevor normally doesn't socialize with anyone, but it doesn't hurt to say hello." The elderly woman waved Karalynn to follow her inside as she slammed her car door shut. The both of them casually made their way over to the porch. Karalynn absent-mindedly gazed at the street with her hands in her hoodie's pockets while she waited for the woman to unlock the door. When the door finally opened the both of them could easily hear the sound of music coming from inside the house. The guy has good taste that's for sure....Karalynn thought to herself as she followed the woman inside.

    "I'll take the cake and take into the kitchen my dear, you go on up and say hi. Get him to come down and we'll all have a slice. His room should be farthest and to the right." The woman smiled as she gently plucked the plate full of cake from Karalynn's hand.

    "Okay, thanks. I'll go do that then." Karalynn smiles to her before facing forward at the steps looming over her. Feeling nervous again she began to chew on her bottom lip, but it still wasn't enough to deter her from meeting Trevor. She wanted a new friend so badly....after the others all left her. She just wanted someone....anyone would do at this point. Her grip on the plastic baggie tightened as she slowly began to ascend the steps to the second floor. With each step she could feel her heart beat quicken, and eventually her chest was starting to feel tight. Slowly but surely she made her way to the upper floor and looked down the hall way. The music was much more apparent, and now she could even hear the words to the song. The lyrics were clear enough for her to listen to, and it eased her anxious soul. Feeling a bit more confident she headed for the boys door.

    Now standing in front of the door she gripped the doorknob and spoke clearly "Hello? Trevor your grandma told me to come get you." She then turned the knob and pushed the door open which revealed to her the site of a young sickly looking boy holding up a gun to his temple. She froze for just a moment as a gasp escaped off her lips, then in a fit of panic Karalynn immediately discarded the baggie from her hand and charged forward. The bed wasn't that far away, but in this moment every second counts. In a rush of adrenaline she lunged at the boy and flung her hand unto his own, pushing his hand away from his head to the wall. A gun shot echoed through out the entire house, and then it quickly fell into silence. All that was left was the sound of two rapid heart beats and heavy breathing as Karalynn lay clinging unto the thin frame of Trevor. Karalynn could still hear the ringing in her ear due to the gun shot, and she felt some what dazed as she shakes underneath her baggy hoodie.
  2. His finger was tightening as Karalynn mounted the stairs; time moving in slow motion and he was going to do it.

    Blood rushed in his ears, surging like river-water when your head is pushed under, and he was going to do it.

    He swallowed past the lump in his throat, pressing the muzzle harder against his temple to steady the shaking in his hand; it was the last tenuous thread of his survival instinct, an involuntary response that he had only to sever in order to do it.

    He exhaled, and as the breath whispered past his dry lips, a shiver replaced it, penetrating through his spine and tingling around his bony shoulders. He would let this breath out, he would feel the shiver cover his body from standing-hairs to toes, and then as he inhaled, he would do it.

    Out, carrying all the toxicity and the last tingling awareness of his high, cold like clouded words in December, out, and then his lungs were empty.


    A solid force slammed against his wrist and the shot exploded next to his ear, his head knocking sideways, reflexively away from the force, miliseconds before the rest of the interfering force collided with the rest of him

    His eyes flew open on impact, and he found himself flat on his back, with a rumbled lump of blanket digging into his rather un-padded spine and a weight that smelled vaguely like watermelon and soap sprawled on top of him. The round echoed, and rung in his ears as if the left half of his skull had transformed into a gong that someone had just let the Hulk go nuts on.

    Stars swam before his eyes, and a weak groan ghosted past his lips involuntarily as inertia settled and time returned to its normal speed.

    It felt wrong; it felt like he'd broken a rule; it felt like he'd glitched into somewhere he was never meant to be. He was supposed to be splattered against the wall, staining the Oasis poster his bullet had landed in, he was supposed to be soup, he was supposed to be gone

    It was supposed to be OVER.

    Too many questions, curses, and wordless, animal screams vied for first place on his tongue, and the only comprehensible thing that came out as what he now recognized to be a girl around his age, with blond hair and a hoodie started pushing off of him, wasn't even a proper word

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  3. A bit frightened by the boys incoherent screaming and swearing, Karalynn immediately began to pull herself off him. She sort of just backed away from the bed a few steps, before her eye caught glimpse of the gun once more. Not sure if it had anymore bullets in it, she jerked forward and went for the gun. Grabbing it out of his hands, she quickly fled the room with it. She wasn't even able to leave the room before Trevor's grandmother came into view at the door.​
    "He," she gasped out unable to speak due to the sheer shock of what happened. The ringing from before had left her head thumping and aching as a headache was starting to come on, "It was at his head!" she exclaimed as if trying to explain what was going on in just a few simple words. She didn't really know what to do with the gun, so she simply placed it on the floor in front of the woman and then reached beside her to pick up the baggy of photographs. The poor girl was still shaking from the fright as she was unable to effectively cope with what had just occurred.​
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  4. Trevor didn't really remember what happened after the girl bounded out of the way; he honestly wasn't even really sure if she was real, because after that he blacked out.

    The sun was streaming in orange through the window when he noticed he was not only conscious, but alive.

    He pulled himself to his feet, feeling dazed. He could hea soft puttering about downstairs, and he moved on autopilot down the stairs.

    Nana was making dinner. Pork chops. He muted her inane and chipper babble at his making an appearance and sat down at the table. He got halfway through his meal before he saw It gleaming on the counter and nearly choked.

    "What's that."

    Nana followed his stare.

    "Oh, that was your grandfather's! That nice young lady found it, I wondered where it got to, you know..."

    Aaand back on mute.

    So she was real. It happened, it wasn't just some hyper-real fantasy.

    . . .

    "Who was she?"

    "Who, dear?"


    "Oh, the girl who visited earlier? I think that was Ellie's grandaughter; the resemblance is uncanny, you know; those eyes. She left some dessert, dear, wasn't that nice?"

    The old lady Nana had over for bridge sometimes. She lived close.

    He glanced at the clock. Six pm; normal people were still awake right now, right?

    There were lights on when he shuffled up the driveway, but the house sounded quiet. It was a warm evening, but he felt cold.

    The sound of the bell seemed to echo
  5. When the echo rang out through the entire home, several dogs from with in began furiously barking. The young man could hear the sound of an elderly woman hushing them to quiet down as she made her way to the front door. The large front door swung open and an inviting glow of the hallway light cascaded down on Trevor. The woman wasn't much taller than him, nor seem to look past her fifties. In fact she looked like she was still in good health. Upon her face the woman donned a surprised expression before finally speaking.

    "Trevor? Shouldn't you be in the hospital after what happened? I'm not quite sure how situations like earlier are supposed to go, but I suppose since nobody was hurt...." she pauses. After some quick thoughts she holds the door open for him and invites him into the house. Once the door was all the way open, he could clearly see all the way down the hallway and the stairs just a few steps away from the front door. The barking from the dogs picked up again, and all three of the woman's miniature schnauzers were pawing and jumping up on the metal doggy gate that sectioned off the kitchen from the hallway. "Would you like to come in? I figure your grandmother told you about Karalynn. You are extremely lucky. She was supposed to go home a few hours ago, but wanted to wait until she knew you were fine."

    In the other room Karalynn was just finishing up dinner and could hear her grandmother speaking to the young man. Her attention focused slightly more on her grandmother's conversation when she picked up on her name. The generally steady thumping in her chest began to beat a bit more rapidly as her nervousness grew. She twisted and intertwined her fingers in and out from each other as she fidgeted uncomfortably.

    The ringing in her ears were gone, but she still had a headache from their previous encounter. The barking dogs only made the throbbing worse, so she quietly called the dogs over. "Zina, Zoey, Max shush! Come here." she tried to distract them from the stranger at the door, but only Zoey the eldest stopped barking. She sighed at this and removed herself from the table. Shyly she moves over to the door frame leading to the hallway and peeks her head out from the side to catch a glimpse of Trevor stepping inside. Again, her heart beat increased at the sight. Just what in the world are they even going to say to each other? Surely he wasn't going to thank her, because she knew that even she herself wouldn't if their roles had been switched. She just simply stood there leaning around the corner, and staring at them both with grey eyes.
  6. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine." Trevor replied in a deadpan voice, looking past the woman and into the hallway until she stepped aside. He only half-listened to her concern as he scanned the corridor, tuning back in at the mention of - Karalynn, was it?

    A movement at the end of the hallway brought his icy gaze over, and for a moment, they were caught in each other's stare. After a few seconds which felt like an age, he cleared his perpetually sore throat and took a few purposeful steps forward, hoping he looked more relaxed than he felt.

    "You'd be Karalynn, I assume? I need to talk to you. In private."
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