AN: Yes, I did use Avenged Sevenfold's A Little Piece of Heaven, and yes, I DO have that as my text message ringtone. : 3 Anyway, this is what it would've been like if The Fox River Eight (well…seven if you want to get technical and not include Haywire) just happened upon a house…my house, that is.
Chapter One: Breaking and Entering is Not a Sport
"Fucking Leon, you useless excuse for a video game whore!" I shout as I die on Resident Evil 4 and the red words You are Dead appear on the screen for the fourth or fifth time that night. I throw the controller down in disgust and take a swig of a can of Coke, before setting it down in front of me, away from the army of empty cans I have been building all night. What can I say? I love me some soda. My phone sings at me from the table.
"Cause you had my heart, at least for the most part…cause everybody's got die sometime. We fell apart…let's make a new start…cause everybody's got die sometime, ye-e-ah But baby don't cry-y-y-y-y." I flip open the Verizon phone to read my friend's text, then reply, my fingers flying across the keys. I turn it to vibrate, then slip it into the pocket of my favorite torn jeans, and turn the speakers my mp3 player is hooked up to even louder, and sing along to Panic! At The Disco's But It's Better If You Do as I shimmy/sing my way into the kitchen to grab another slice of pizza.
Outside:
Six men sprint as fast as they can through the woods, panting and dragging in air as they feel the adrenaline start to peter off.
They grind to a halt on the slimy bed of leaves and dirt, and take a breather.
"Michael, we need somewhere to hide." A Latino man gasps, the tall guy with shorn hair and a muscular build next to him nods.
"Where in the hell are we going to find someplace like that here?" A man slightly behind them growls, the red slash of a scar on his throat standing out in the moonlight filtered through the trees.
The man referred to as Michael looks ahead of them, and barely makes out the light coming from a house maybe a quarter of a mile or less to their right. He points, a small smile appearing on his face. "We go there."
Back to Me:
I half sing, half chew along in the kitchen with Brendan Urie in the song A New Perspective, which I'd put on repeat after the previous song ended. And even with food in my mouth, I'm pretty good at singing it.
"There's a haze above my T.V., that changes everything I see, and maybe if I continue watching, I'll lose the traits that worry me. Can we fast-forward to go down on me?"
I switch it off repeat after about the eighth time hearing it, then get up again to toss part of my empty cans away in the trash can. I hear a pounding at the back door (which I don't blame the knocker for since I have my music blasting so loudly it's a surprise the windows don't break). I cautiously head that way and look out the peephole, and feel a chill go through me when I see no one there. I grab my pocket knife, flip it open, and fling open the door. The wind whispers through my hair as I step outside, and the chill only gets worse as I see no one gain. I close the door behind me, then walk in a careful, slow circle around the house before shuffling back to the door, and locking it firmly behind me.
Assholes, I think to myself before closing the knife and jamming it into my back pocket. I see a flash of blue in the living room out of the corner of my eye, and I stiffen, cursing myself for the loud music I can't hear anything over. The knife slides neatly back in my hands and I open it before stepping through the kitchen and stopping in the entrance to the living room.
I see nothing so I shuffle through the doorway, but I barely set foot on the wood floor before someone grabs me from behind and places their hand over my mouth.
The Other Side of the Matter:
Michael watches as his friend, the Latino called Sucre, ambushes the ruby-haired girl when she enters the living room. She struggles furiously, her tall, skinny body thrashing so hard Sucre almost lets her slip away. The knife is still in her hand, and as Michael and the rest come out of their hiding places, she jams him in the arm with it. Sucre swore loudly in Spanish as the girl yanked it out and raced away from him the best she could without slipping in her bare feet.
She barely slipped past the scarred man, Abruzzi, and she flew up the stairs.
"Stay here." Michael told a thankful Sucre, as Lincoln, Abruzzi, T-Bag, and he went up after her, leaving Tweener behind as well. He motioned for them to check all the rooms, and they did, mostly without comment. T-Bag started calling for her in his heavy southern accent.
"Girl, why don't you come out? You're just causing more trouble for us. We'll find you either way, so why not make it easy on yourself?" he drawled; in what he hoped was an enticing voice. A loud vibration started going off as he searched a room, this one possibly the girl's, with comic book stacks and posters everywhere, and he made his way over to the closet, listening as he heard a faint scrabbling sound from inside it.
Back to Me:
"Fuck!" I hissed as my phone vibrated on the floor of my closet, as it reminded me I got a text message as I had struggled in the living room. It only got some bars downstairs, so I had taken it out and placed it on the wooden floor of the closet, despairing at its uselessness. I pulled it over to me, wincing as it clattered loudly when I dropped it in my haste. I stopped the vibrating, but all too late as the door flew open and hand pulled me into the light of my room.
The Other Side of the Matter:
T-Bag dragged her out of the closet, grinning brightly. "Oh boys! Look who I got here!" The girl tried to stab him like she did Sucre, but he twisted her wrist, hard, and she dropped the bloodstained knife to the floor. "You are a looker aren't you?" he murmured as he kicked the knife away from her searching foot. Her almond-shaped hazel eyes met his, fire rising in their depths. She was almost his height, give or take a few inches, and she tried to stare him down like she was six foot. She opened her mouth to scream, but he quickly grabbed her wrists in one hand, and slapped the other over her mouth.
"None of that, please." He said firmly, as Michael, Lincoln, and Abruzzi entered the room.
"Are you alone for tonight?" Abruzzi demanded from the girl, and T-Bag took his hand away so she could talk. She lost the color in her face instantly when she saw their numbers.
"Abruzzi!" Michael said sharply, before approaching the girl. "What's your name?" he asked, softly. She remained silent for a second before replying.
"…Are you going to kill me?"