Sorry about the wait. School's got this sick joke to load the homework up during Spring Break. I'd burn it down if I wasn't such a good person…

P.S. I don't own Taylor Swift...

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Engaging Nightmare

Chapter 10

--

Lili's POV

Dad had been right.

It was around six when I heard Pamela pull in the driveway of our home, step out into the gravel in her gawky platform shoes, and storm into the house.

I was sitting in my room, watching the entire scene through the window.

As soon as I heard her say something to my dad, I turned on my music and placed one of the plastic buds in my ear.

Knowing Pamela, it wouldn't be anything nice. Those two would probably be fighting in a moment again, but I always listened in to make sure things didn't get too bad.

I grabbed the book that sat on my nightstand, under my lamp: Eternal Abyss. I hadn't even read the first page since I bought it last weekend. Even though Ferb gave it good reference, I just hadn't found the time.

Guilty and desperate for something to do, I cracked it open to the first page and read while my music slightly blasted in my ear. Loud enough to hear the music, but quiet enough to hear what was going on in the next room.

You were Romeo and you were throwing pebbles.

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet!"

And I was crying on the staircase, begging you

"Please don't go!"

Like I had expected, they had already began to yell.

"What makes you think you can just storm in here!?"

"The fact that this is my house is what!" Pamela shot back, her voice filled with anger and dominance.

"It isn't and never will be your house alone. You can't keep changing your mind! Either leave or stay!"

I shook my head. This was almost exactly what happened the last time Pamela came back. Could they be arguing about the same thing again?

"You know damn well why I came back, Joseph! I want my wedding ring!" she shrieked to Dad. There was my answer; a big YES.

Dad was getting angry. "Why give a woman a wedding ring, when she doesn't deserve it? Especially, if she keeps changing her mind!"

"Because you want to marry me! And there isn't any way in hell I'll let you try to bring me to this place without a ring!"

"You know I can't afford a ring right now! I don't know how many times I've told you!" Dad never cursed. I'm not too sure why, but whenever he and Pamela argued, all that would happen was the vein on his forehead would pucker. If things got really bad between them, he would stutter, exactly like when I got furious. "Is a ring all you care about?"

Pamela snorted. "Don't try and pull a guilt trip on me. Just make sure you get me one, and we can put all this fighting behind us."

That wouldn't help anything. I'm sure Dad understood that as well. As long as those two had been fighting among one another, there wasn't any way a ring was going to change that. A band of gold couldn't convert a devil to a saint.

He must have, for he told her exactly what ran through my mind. "What makes you so sure that things will change after I get you a ring!?"

There was silence after that. Pamela seemed shocked by Dad's words. Speechless.

Then, with a loud and frustrated growl, she yelled back at him. Her words were unintelligible and slurred together out of rage. I could only make out mild cursing and whining as she yelled at my father.

Part of me wanted to head into the room and give her a piece of my mind; to tell her how she wasn't wanted at our home, how disrespectful and ungrateful she was, and that she needed to try keeping her mouth closed for a change. But, the other part knew that would be a waste of time and energy, and would only lead to her fighting back. All I really could and needed to do was stay in my room and wait it out.

Dad was yelling now, though I couldn't understand either of them. I placed my hand on my CD player and toyed with it until my fingertips touched the volume control. I turned it up slightly, hearing the words flood my head again.

Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel.

This love is difficult, but it's for real.

Don't be afraid we'll make it out of this mess.

It's a love story, baby just say yes.

The music only lasted a few moments though. Soon, the yelling outside my walls grew and I could barely even concentrate on my reading. I'd only managed to read one line, but I couldn't really think about it's meaning. They were only meaningless letters at the time.

Dad barked, "She's only eighteen! She isn't old enough to be out on her own yet! Especially not when she's still in high school!"

I groaned and buried my face in my pillow. They were talking about me again, something I absolutely hated. Obviously, Pamela was trying to convince Dad to kick me out again. They were on a whole new sujbect.

"Are you saying she means more to you than me, Joseph!?" she shrieked. From the sound of her voice, it was like she was on the verge of tears.

I turned the music down and listened for Dad's answer. He was silent for a long time, either trying to think of what to say or what to do.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "You know she's my daughter. She's my own flesh and blood and I love her more than anyone else in the world. So..." he paused. The entire house was silent despite the cars that passed noisily outside my window.

"So, yes. I do..."

Pamela didn't speak for a few seconds; another episode of silence passed through.

Then, with a huff and a few sniffles, she replied in a defeated voice, "I see. Then I guess you won't miss me too much if I never come back."

And, again, after heavy footfall on the tile flooring of the kitchen, her heels making a tapping noise, she opened the screen door again. It swung shut much more quietly than before, so I wasn't too sure she was really gone until I heard the engine outside rev.

I closed my eyes and listened to the gravel crunching and then the truck's noise fade away down the road. Whenever she was gone, our home was much more peaceful...

Grandma would be here to keep us company, and sometimes cook delicious sweets. And Dad would be in a much better mood.

When I was thirteen, and Pamela was apart of my life then as well, he would play games of chess with me while Grandma watched. I always won every game with him, be it he let me win or I was just smarter than he was. Though, there had been a few times he had me on the rocks.

Pamela hadn't been around in any of my good memories, only the bad ones.

I laid on my old bed for about five minutes with my eyes closed and listening to the birds that perched on branches above my head. The copy of Eternal Abysslaidbeside me, and my CD of Taylor Swift had begun to play another song, one I didn't really recognize.

So, bored and worried, I took the bud from my ear, slid off my bed, and made my way to the living room. The only noise I heard was the sound of a newspaper rustling.

Dad always read the paper after a fight with Pamela. When I asked him why, he joked and said, "It's nice to know there's people out there who've got it worse than me at the time."

As dark as it seemed, I laughed anyway and headed quickly to my room.

Now, being older, I knew he was just trying to keep his mind off of her.

I rounded the corner of the hallway and saw Dad lying longways on the couch. His head and feet were propped up on the arm rests, and the paper was held above his face. He looked uncomfortable.

"Dad," I said softly to him. His eyes flickered quickly to me, then back to his paper. "You okay?"

He finished reading whatever it was that caught his attention, then looked back to me. "Yeah, Lilian. Why?"

"I just...well, I heard her,is all."

He sighed and folded the paper, then sat it on the floor. While keeping his eyes off of me, he pushed himself up with a groan, sitting up in an upright position. "Everythings fine, honey. We've just been on the rocks a bit lately."

I shook my head. "It's more like the two of you stay on the rocks."

He stared at me; his eyes seemed glassy.

I paused before saying, "Are you really going to buy her a ring?"

"If I can get a hold of the money, then yes."

I had only gotten a couple of years alone with Dad, back when the memories of my mother began to grow hazy. It was just after she left, when I was four, that Dad seemed to be all about spending every waking moment with me. Even when I was in kindergarten. He would always be there before all the other parents to pick me up.

I remembered once, after school, I rushed out the doors and saw him standing beside the old, second-hand van we used to own. It was a dirty black, with multiple dings and scratches riddled around it. He crouched down to one knee and opened his arms for a hug as I ran to him, giggling the entire way.

Back then, my hair was a sandy blond and too short to braid or put up. When I met with his arms, he smiled and hugged me tightly. I saw a glow in his blue eyes, identical to mine. They were happy. He was happy to just be with me...

Now, I could barely recognize that man from the one sitting in front of me.

As I continued to stare at him, he stood up from the couch. It screeched from all the use over the years.

"I think I'll go for a walk." he told me as he scratched the side of his leg with his naked foot. I really wished he would at least put some socks on. It was around sixty degrees inside.

I pulled my arms together, hugging myself tightly as he opened the door and a cold wind rushed throughout the house. "Should I fix dinner?"

"No. I'll just order us a pizza later." He shrugged, and opened the door that had been slammed shut so many times before. Oddly, this particular item didn't screech.

In seconds, he was out the door and slipping on his Timberlands on the front porch. Then I was alone.

Without making a sound, I shuffled to the couch where Dad had been sitting and picked up the paper. He was probably going to be gone for hours.

--

Ferb's POV

I stared at Carmen. Her golder hair fell off her shoulders and slid down her back as she took her helmet off. It was the same exact color as her bike. She looked directly at me after hanging it on her handle bars. "Hey!" she called in a shrill voice.

I pulled myself out of my trance, them forced myself to walk towards her.

When I came closer, I noticed the outfit she wore. It was somewhat formal: a white V-neck shirt with long sleeves, black dress pants that slipped down to her ankles, and black high heels. I looked at my outfit. There she was, dressed like some sort of a goddess, and I stood there in my old worn out tennis shoes, a black button-up shirt that was too big for me, and blue jeans with one too many holes in them.

I looked like a hobo compared to her.

"Should I change first?" I asked her nervously.

She looked me over. Her eyes trailed from my feet to my head and back down as her lips pressed together ponderously. Then, they pulled up into a sweet smile. "Nah, you look handsome."

My cheeks heated up. I pushed my hands into my pants pockets nervously. "So do you." I complimented as I stroked the side of my phone.

"Thanks." giggled Carmen. When she turned to the other side of her bike, I saw that all her hair had been curled. The ends dipped outward and curled inward on themselves, bouncing with every movement she made. She whipped back around and handed me what I thought was the same helmet she had just taken off.
"Here," she stretched the helmet towards me, indicating for me to take it. "I hope you're into red."

It took me a moment, but finally I realized what she was planning. Only outside of school did my observation skills weaken. "We're...we're going to ride THAT!?"

"Well, of course!" she laughed. "What? Did you think we were gonna walk?"

"No," I began, shaking my head. "But won't it take longer if we go on this?"

She gave me a strange look as I took the flaming helmet from her. "Not really. Actually, I think it'll be faster; this thing drives much better than a car."

I thought about it, and she was probably right. It would definitely be easer to weave through traffic on something five times smaller than a large vehicle. I took my hands from my pockets, grabbed the helmet and placed it on my head, then snapping the buckle shut tight under my chin. After all that, I stared at her quizzically. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather take my car? I'd only have to run inside and get the keys."

She shook her head. "That's okay. I just filled this baby up on gas, anyway." she explained as she used her left hand to pat the shiny metal and the other to apply her helmet as well.

And then, with one flick of her wrist, she turned the ignition of her tiny bike, making the engine come alive with an earsplitting roar.

I took a step back in alarm. For such a small thing, it sure made a loud noise.

"Where will I sit?" After looking up and down the bike, I noticed how little space it held. Clearly, it was designed only for one person.

She chuckled, and scrunched upward until her knees were inches from the handle bars. Then, she patted the leather seat. "Right here, silly."

"But," I gulped and nervously fiddled with the buckle on my helmet. It was somewhat tight, but I didn't bother try and fix it. "Isn't that dangerous..?"

"I don't know. But it'll work won't it?"

"Er...sure." There didn't seem to be enough room, but I tried my best to get seated and comfortable on the small scooter.

It was quite ironic, actually. Dad had asked if she was a decent driver, and I assumed he meant in a car. What was I supposed to say when he asked, Well, son. How does the girl handle a car?

It would probably be a good idea not to mention she didn't take a car, and that we rode illegally on a one passenger motor bike.

Dad might have seen like a relaxed man, but he could get on edge at times. Especially when it involved recklessness.

A good example would probably be the day Phineas tried to jump from the large tree in our backyard to the edge of the roof. No matter how many times I tried to tell him how stupid that would be, he climbed up and onto the top branch. He was just about to take off running, until Dad saw him out the kitchen window.

It only took Dad a few seconds to convince Phineas to come down. After that, there was loud yelling and the use of the words 'idiotic', 'asinine', and 'jackass' echoed throughout the block.

I shrugged, and continued to read my book under the shade of the branch my brother may have broken his neck on.

This time, it would be a good idea not to mention it and pray nobody saw the scene out the window.

When I was settled on, she revved the engine a few times. It rattled and shook on its two wheels, the only thing keeping the bike in place were her two slim legs.

"How will I stay on?" I gripped the back of the seat, but even the bikes vibration was enough to make me queasy.

She laughed, then took her hands off the handlebars long enough to grab my wrists from behind her back. "Like this,"

Her arms wrapped mine around her waist which caused me to become anchored to her. My cheek was pressed tightly against her back, and as the motor's roaring grew more violent, I awkwardly held her closer.

With every passing second, my cheeks grew a deeper crimson; I thanked God she wasn't able to see my face.

Then, finally, she released the brake and the bike began to move. It started off at a slow pace of five miles per hour, then began to quickly accelerate as we sped out of Maple Drive.

--

I couldn't tell how long we drove. The bike traveled so fast, it was probably a good estimate of only six or seven minutes; I wasn't even sure if we made any stops. My eyes stayed closed then entire drive and I kept my grip tight around Carmen. If I lossened my arms just a little, my heart beat faster and I feared I would fall to my death.

It was a good thing I didn't peak. Any person driving down the road at six at night would have laughed straight at me. A seventeen year old boy, riding a pink scooter, eyes squeezed shut, and clinging for dear life to an older girl.

Hopefully, Buford, Baljeet, Django, or Isabella (anyone who I knew) weren't taking a joyride tonight.

Especially not Buford…

The wind passing by us made my ears tickle from chill. We rounded another corner and I wrapped my arms around her more as my fingertips came centimeters away from her clothed bellybutton.

She must have thought I was a wimp, for she took her hand off the handlebars and patted my knuckles.

"Are you nervous?" she asked me. She kept her hand on mine, and I nearly melted.

"Just a little," I admitted. "I've never really ridden on one of these before."

Carmen laughed and I opened my eyes as we turned the corner of a McDonalds. I could see through the windows that weren't fogged up that it was nearly empty. Danville wasn't really popular for its fast food, minus the Mr. Slushy Dawgs that seemed to be popping up everywhere. "I guess you have something to brag about, huh?"

I chuckled nervously. "Sure." If I live that long.

She patted my hand and returned hers to the bars in front of her. For just a few seconds, I was in heaven. My hand tingled from where the cold metal of her bracelet previously laid. I bet it smelled just like her perfume now.

Then, she flicked the turn signal for the umpteenth time. It made a ticking noise, abnormal to a cars. She tapped the brakes and we cruised into the parking lot of a large building, about the size of a decent house. There were multiple lights decorating the porch, where people were filing out of the doors in large numbers. Some leaned against the guard rails with cigarettes balanced in their fingers. Deadly smoke puffed from their mouth and poured from their lips, filling the air.

One man sauntered in front of us. He had a cell phone plastered to the side of his head, oblivious to us.

Carmen honked the small horn of her bike. He looked up at the noise and jogged out of our way, and Carmen proceeded to park in the closest spot she could find.

"Well," She pulled off her helmet as soon as she was parked and the bike was dead. "This is it."

I unbuckled my helmet, took it off, and handed it to her. She placed it on the bar next to hers.

Up close, I could see the name of the restaurant decorated in large, green letters above the porch.

The Spaghetti Factory.

"It's sort of a queer name," Carmen explained as she sashayed next to me. "but they're really good with atmosphere and stuff."

"It's nice." I said. "Like something from New York."

She laced her arm around mine, constricting the two of us at the hip, and chuckled. "Yeah. I guess so."

I looked at her, slightly surprised by her movement. Her smile was twisted upward, one side higher than the other. For the first time, I noticed the glitter on her eyelashes.

"Well," she rested her hairspray coated head on my arm. "Aren't you going to lead me in, handsome?"

I paled. Her arm was tight around mine, and I could detect her vanilla perfume easily. She smelled sweet, like sugar cookies.

"Right, sorry!"

Nervously, I strode forward as she followed closely behind. Any claustrophobic person would have panicked by how attached she was to me.

Instead, I enjoyed the moment as we made our way to the glass doors, where a man dressed in black welcomed us.

So far, everything was perfect.

--TO BE CONTINUED-----

Awwwww…Sweet American/British love! Haha! He...he...uhhh...

But, I'm not making the whole Spaghetti Factory thing up. There really is a restaurant by that name in Nashville, Tennessee. At least, it was there the last time I went. It was cool! They brought us soup and ice cream!:)

Okay, so, please review so I'll be motivated to write the next chapter in less than two months please!

Peace out!