Hey, thanks so much for the reviews, I love reading them!
Also, I need to do a disclaimer for the movie 'The Conjuring 2'. I used it in a scene in this chapter, I did not make the plot line for the movie and all rights belong to the directors and whoever else was involved.
Anyway, that's it. Read on and enjoy!
Maren
I wake up with a with terrible pain in my head, like a pounding on the inside of my skull so intense I fear it may split my head in two. Groaning, I cover my head with my hands and squeeze, hoping the pressure will somehow dull the throbbing. Of course it doesn't work, if I was thinking logically at all I could have known it wouldn't bring me any relief, but I find my thoughts hard to get past the layer of ache in my brain.
With a massive amount of effort, I roll over and press my head into a pillow, desperate to fall back to sleep to escape my pounding head and the nauseating feeling creeping up in my stomach. I fling my arm out in a futile attempt to get comfortable, only to find it drop and dangle off the edge of the mattress. Wait, is this a mattress? Not willing to open my eyes yet, I feel around the soft material underneath me. My hands find a gap between two cushions and I feel a blanket wrapped around my legs. This is not my bed.
I tilt my head to the side and reluctantly open one eye, my curiosity overpowering the headache. I'm filled with immediate regret when morning light shines into my eyes, causing the pain in my head to increase. I curse and shut my eye again until the pain tones down a little, then I slowly open my eye again, looking out through my eyelashes. It's hard to see through the limited view through my squinted eyes, but I manage. There's and table in front of me, a hardwood floor underneath it, and a small flat screen on the other side of the room. I close my eyes again, not needing any more details of the area to figure out where I am. This is Riley's living room.
I try to remember anything about last night, and at what point it was decided I would not be going back to my own house, but I can't seem to recall the moment. I assume the decision was made without me. Not that I mind, I would rather not be around mom like this, she'd likely tease me about my hangover and turn on the vacuum just for the heck of it.
Through the ringing in my ears, I pick out the sound of someone knocking on a bedroom door. "Riley, get up. I'm going to work soon." It takes all of my strength to suppress another groan at the voice. It belongs to Riley's sister, the only person that surpasses my hate of Stanley Worthington. Stephanie.
I hear thumping as her lazy footsteps sound down the hallway. I hear them get louder, closer. If sitting up didn't seem like such an impossible goal, I would already be walking out the door so I could escape her, but as of now, I don't see myself getting off this couch anytime soon. The footsteps stop.
"What the fuck are you doing here." It's not a question. It's code for 'get out'.
I don't respond, not giving her the satisfaction of an argument, but also too muddled to think of a witty response at the moment. Sadly, my silence doesn't deter her.
"Are you deaf, Maren. I asked what you are doing on my couch." She continues, pronouncing every word slowly as if I couldn't understand. It makes my blood boil. I open one eye, squinting at her with what I would hope she takes as malice.
The sad part is, Stephanie is actually really pretty, even when she's just gotten out of bed. She's the complete opposite of Riley though other than hair colour. Instead of straight hair, she has curly ringlets. Her skin and eyes are darker, and she's quite a few inches taller. Beautiful really. But none of that matters because her personality is complete garbage, she's rude and for lack of a better word, extremely bitchy. She wears a glare that would never fit on her sisters face and I find it hard to believe she shares the same blood with Riley, but life is weird sometimes, and so are cranky older sisters.
"I was sleeping. Are you blind?" It's a weak retort, but the best I can come up with considering the circumstances. Stephanie frowns even more than usual, like she's disappointed at the lack of fight I'm giving her.
"What's wrong with you?" She asks. She studies me for a second, then a look of mock sympathy dawns on her her face. "Ah, a hangover? Damn, that really sucks. You know what'll help though?" She walks over to the side of the room and my eyes lose track of her, too lazy to move my head to track her progress. Suddenly, bright morning light streams into the room. Pain stabs my skull and I curse, burying my face in the pillow once again.
"Up and at 'em, girl." She says, I grit my teeth. I can practically hear her smirk.
"Fuck. Off." I manage, hatred racing through me at an alarming rate. She only laughs and I hear her heavy footsteps disappear into the kitchen.
I raise my arms and cradle my head in them, just laying there, not able to find the energy to get up and close the blinds, or curtains or whatever they have over the windows. I forget. I stay like that until I hear a second set of footsteps, these ones are quicker and quieter, the sound almost inaudible. Riley. I hear her sigh and when I open my eyes again, the light has dimmed.
"Water." She says when she walks past the couch. She looks tired but not unhappy, but she's not a morning person anyway so I'm not concerned. She looks at me expectantly and it takes a bit of effort for me to remember what she said.
She rolls her eyes a little and holds out a glass of water. The last clear liquid I had was vodka, so it's a relief to see something that doesn't contain alcohol. I still don't take it though, not being able to find the energy to physically take the glass from her hands.
"I'll... later." I mumble, closing my eyes again.
She sighs, her patience uncharacteristically thin in the morning. "No. You... now." She says. I still continue to lay there until her hand grabs my arm and she pulls my body into a sitting position, ignoring my groan of protest.
I force my eyelids up and look at her through squinted eyes. She sits on the table and pushes the glass of water onto my hands, which are a little shaky. "Drink the freaking water, Maren."
I roll my eyes and make a big show of drinking the water, I don't stop until it's all gone. It helps the nauseating feeling in my stomach, but not much. As if reading my mind, Riley points to bucket by the side of the couch that I never noticed before.
"You're probably going to want to throw up later. If you throw up in the bucket, you clean it out. If you throw up in the toilet, you don't clean out the bucket. Choose wisely." She explains flatly as she plucks the glass out of my hand, coming back with another one almost immediately. I raise an eyebrow. "One glass of water for every alcoholic beverage." She says wisely, then heads out to the kitchen, to make breakfast I assume.
Now it's too much effort to get back in a comfortable lying position, so I stay sitting, holding the glass between my two hands and taking a sip every once in a while. After a while, I hear sizzling and the smell of bacon starts to fill the house. I would usually be happy about the aroma, but it's my worst nightmare right now, the smell seeming thicker and more potent than usual. It fills my nose and the urge to vomit gets stronger. I try to suppress it by taking another sip of water but it doesn't help.
Marina emerges from the hallway, her hair is already done and it looks like she's borrowed some pyjamas from Riley. I make a mental note to ask Riley for a pair later, I'm still wearing my jeans and shirt from yesterday and it's only now I notice how uncomfortable they are. Marina looks at me for a second.
"You look like hell." She concludes, yawning through her words. I'm about to respond when my stomach decides it doesn't want it's contents anymore.
"Shit." I mutter. It's not hard to get up now. I shoot off the couch and run/stumble to the bathroom, pressing a hand over my mouth as I go.
I get to the washroom and drop to my knees, opening the toilet seat cover and leaning over it. How could I have been so stupid? And here it comes, along with the sickening feeling of vomiting. I empty my stomach's contents into the bowl and since I don't have any food in my stomach, it's pretty much all alcohol. I heave deep breaths as my headache increases and I can tell I'm going to puke again, and I do. This time when I lift my head, someone is holding my hair so it doesn't get in the way. Riley. After I'm done (I hope), she hands me a paper cup with mouthwash in it and flushes the toilet for me, taking my alcohol down the drain but only a little of my regret.
"It was Steph that started cooking the bacon." She tells me apologetically as I swish the mouthwash around my mouth. "At least it sped up the process." I spit the mouthwash in the toilet, the sink seeming too far away at the moment.
"Thanks." I say. It's not sarcastic but my voice comes out terse anyway, I'm not sure why.
"Don't mention it." Riley replies.
It's still dark in here, with no windows in the bathroom, and it's better than the living room with the limited darkness the curtains supply. I lie down on the mat she has over the floor, closing my eyes.
"No, you can't sleep here." Riley sighs. She grabs my arm and tries to get me up, each tug making pain stab my head, but I refuse to move.
"Can I have an aspirin?" I ask. She shakes her head. "I'm dying, R." I say dramatically as she makes little progress getting me out of the bathroom.
She rolls her eyes. "If you take an aspirin your liver will have to work harder and over time it'll get stiff and swell and..." She trails off, probably remembering that I don't understand biology. "You're better off drinking water." She finishes. I groan as she pulls again. "Come on, Maren. You don't want to lie down here."
"I do though."
"If you don't get up, I'll take a picture and send it to your mother."
I open one eye, squinting at her. "You wouldn't." I say suspiciously.
"Oh, but I would." She arches an eyebrow at me while I fix her with the most menacing glare I can conjure at the moment. After a few seconds, I sigh and resign myself to getting up. I don't want mom being all smug about the state I'm in.
I pull myself up, holding onto the counter and Riley's arm. Once I get standing I realize Riley is looking at me weird, almost smug.
"What?" I ask irritably. She just smiles and gestures to the mirror. I sigh and turn my head to look. My eyes widen. Is that even me?
The person in the mirror is pale, clammy, and red, all at the same time. Her hair is a mess and sticks to her face. That can't be me. I don't have mascara and eyeliner smeared across my face. I don't have red rimmed, dull eyes, and lips to match. It can't be me. Although she moves when I move.
"Holy shit." I murmur.
"Yeah..." Riley trails off with a chuckle. "Okay, how about you get in the shower, I'll get you a change of clothes, and breakfast will be ready when you come out. Good?"
"Great." I reply, still trying to comprehend the image of myself in the mirror.
How did I let this happen?
John
My eyes stay closed as my phone rings on my nightstand. Who the hell is calling me at eight in the morning?
As I let the wails of the ringtone wash over me, I make up a short list of the possible callers in my head. The most likely to be calling me would either be Joseph or Stanley, considering I don't have a lot of contacts in my phone. Although, since it's a weekend, I find it hard to believe either one of them would be up this early, especially considering the party last night. Maybe it's dad, although he doesn't have to work today so he's probably home.
Finding out the identity of the caller isn't really an important thing to worry about, but I'm just wasting time so the phone can stop ringing and I can go back to sleep. Whoever it is, they can wait until later.
Finally the ringing stops and I let my mind drift off again. For a couple peaceful seconds, there is silence. My eyes snap open as the phone rings a second time, somehow sounding more annoying than the first call. Irritation bubbles inside me at the sound. I imagine a brief scenario in my head of the phone breaking into pieces from being thrown at a wall, my doing. The wailing would stop, and all would be okay once again. Of course I don't do that.
I pick up the phone and can't stop an exasperated sigh from escaping me when I see Stanley's contact. I should have known that he would be the only person inconsiderate enough to wake somebody up early on a weekend.
"What." I growl when I answer the call. I can hear heavy breathing in the other end of the line, almost sounding panicked. Concern spikes in me, but not enough for me to actually get up.
"Dude I have a huge problem."
"Its eight in the morning."
"I don't give a shit what time it is. You need to get over here ASAP." At that I sit up, rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out of them. I don't have to ask why because he quickly explains. "So I wake up on the couch right? And I have a terrible hangover, I threw up a couple times it wasn't fun. There's dark stains all over the carpet. The carpet is white, John. White."
"So? Just call the cleaning service or whatever." I mumble already lying back down.
"You don't think I thought of that? I already talked to them." He pauses dramatically. "Man, they're not working today. Something about a holiday."
I roll my eyes. "Okay. Call another cleaning service." I'm trying my best not to get angry with him, but it's hard. So hard.
"Are you kidding? Anyone else who steps foot in here is gonna go running!" The implication is clear.
"Dude get your ass over here, and pick up Joe on the way. Also, cleaning supplies." Before I have a chance to reply, Stanley hangs up. Probably to go google how to use a broom.
I take my time getting up and shoving on a pair jeans and a t-shirt, smoothing out my hair as I go down the stairs for some breakfast. Dad is already sitting at the kitchen table when I come in and I head to the counter, pouring myself up a bowl of cereal.
"Morning." He says, looking at me over the newspaper in his hands. "This is early for you to be up on a weekend." He raises an eyebrow at me skeptically and takes off his reading glasses, setting them on the table.
"Well, Stanley called and it seems that he is in the midst of a crisis." I reply, rolling my eyes as I sit down at the table with my bowl.
Dad chuckles and shakes his head. "How much of a mess is his house?" He asks, not even needing to guess the reason for Stanley's despair.
"He said it's going to be a three man job, if that puts anything in perspective." I shrug and eat my cereal quickly.
"Oh no, he dragged Joseph into this?" Dad asks, a sympathetic look on his face. "Poor boy."
"Which one?" I ask.
"Both." He says.
I finish my breakfast and brush my teeth and straighten out my hair. It's only now that I notice I don't have a hangover, and I quite thrilled to say the least. I smile when I think of the state Maren was in last night and imagine the hell she's going through this morning.
Strangely, when I think back on last night, I find a grin creeping up on my face. I shake my head to try and dispel the image of Maren's drunken grin from my head, but it doesn't work. Despite knowing she was drunk the whole time and she probably doesn't remember half the night, it was still the most fun I've ever had at one of Stanley's stupid parties.
The smile fades when I go downstairs and realize my car is still at his house. He won't be pleased to have to pick Joseph and I up.
. . .
"Okay so... windex?" Joseph examines the cleaning product in his hands like it's rare specimen. I laugh and he grins sheepishly.
"I don't care what it is. If it cleans stuff throw it in the cart." Stanley grumbles, examining his own can of something that sprays, it looks like bathroom cleaner.
After Stanley picked Joe and I up, he wasted no time getting us to Walmart, muttering something along to lines of 'stupid party' the whole way here. Of course, he has never picked up any type of cleaning product in his life, while Joseph's experience is limited, so as much as I avoid cleaning, it wouldn't be stretch to call me an expert compared to these two. After having to ask for help to get to the aisle, we scavenged through the shelves looking for anything that can take the smell and stain of alcohol out of the house. Between the three of us, we managed to collect about 35 cans of various products- which basically just means throwing in anything that says the word 'clean' on it -that are arranged in a not-so-tidy heaping pile in the cart. I'm actually quite proud of the accomplishment.
I hear a clank as Joseph tosses in his latest discovery, and Stanley throws yet another pair of rubber gloves on top of the pile. An employee walks past the aisle and has to do a double take when she sees the mountain that is the items in our cart.
Joseph notices her and greets her with a friendly smile. "Good morning!" He says, waving to her. She doesn't say anything and just continues her walk, ignoring this aisle completely. Joseph just shrugs cheerily, unaffected by her attitude. For someone with a hangover he's awfully happy.
Stanley is the complete opposite, looking up and glaring at us with dark, bloodshot eyes. "Are you idiots gonna help or what?" He snaps before turning around to throw something else into the cart.
"Not with that attitude." Joseph replies, smirking. Stanley just eyes at him with enough hatred to send Joseph back to looking through the shelves once again. Stanley seems pleased and turns back around to his own section. He said earlier that he took 3 aspirin to help with his hangover. Obviously it wasn't enough.
"You know, I think we might have enough stuff." I interject before Joseph is subject to too much verbal abuse. Stanley looks at me like he looked at Joseph but I just shrug. "Seriously, I think ten cans of carpet cleaner will do."
"You didn't see the house man." Stanley says, almost looking scared.
I roll my eyes and start to wheel the cart out of the aisle. It takes a bit more effort than I would like to admit. "If we don't have enough, we can come back for more. It's not a big deal."
Stanley looks unsure, but Joseph doesn't waste any time before following me out of the aisle. Eventually Stanley comes too, although much more reluctantly. We continue our way to the checkout, some passerby giving us weird looks and a wide berth when they see the contents of our cart, and some nodding understandingly.
The checkouts aren't very full because it's a Saturday morning, so we don't have any trouble finding an empty one. The cashier- a guy maybe in his twenties- smiles at us warmly until he sees our cart, then the smile fades and a look a bewilderment replaces it. All three of us start to load the products onto the belt and it slides forward, the cashier desperately trying to check the containers in at the speed we're loading them on. Eventually he gets backed up and he resigns himself to doing it at a reasonable pace.
I load the bags into the cart while Stanley pulls a sleek looking credit card out of his wallet. It probably belongs to Sandor. I can't imagine he'll be very happy when he sees the bill.
"Alright, that'll be $228.78." The cashier says finally, sounding breathless after scanning everything through. Stanley shows him the card and the guy nods, telling him to put it in the machine.
Joseph smiles kindly at the guy, probably just wanting to apologize for Stanley's attitude. It doesn't seem to work, the cashier's look of confusion only increasing as he looks back forth between Stanley's bloodshot eyes and Joesph's overly cheerful grin. I feel bad for him.
Stanley finishes paying and I thank the cashier as we go, Joseph running ahead with the cart. The guy just shakes his head.
We load everything into Stanley's truck and it's not long before we pull into his driveway. We all shoulder at least 6 heavy plastic begs each and the scattered cleaning product that fell out of the bags.
"I really don't think all of this is necessary." I say to Stanley as me and Joseph make our way up the walkway. Stanley is already unlocking the door, the bags he carried at his feet.
"Yeah, well I know it's necessary." He retorts finally getting the door unlocked. He pushes it open before grabbing all the bags and heading inside. Me and Joseph go in behind him.
I open my mouth to reply but the words don't come, stopped dead in my throat as I look around the house. Calling it a disaster would be an understatement. There are red cups literally everywhere, few beer bottles mixed in with the mass as well. They litter the floor, the mantle, the furniture and anything else you can think of, dark stains crawling underneath them on the originally creme coloured carpet. Aside from the obvious damage caused by the unforgiving colour of alcohol, mud and dirt stains are also ground into the floor, giving it more of a brown shade than white. There are shirts and hats all over the place and even a lone sneaker in the corner.
"Well shit." I say. Joseph nods and Stan sighs dramatically.
"Alright. Dad gets home at two AM." He stares determinedly ahead. "Let's do this."
Marina
"Okay... how about a comedy?" I ask hopefully.
Maren who sits on the other side of the couch wrinkles her nose disapprovingly. "No. Too happy." She replies, stretching her legs across two whole cushions so I have to curl up on one.
I sigh and continue scrolling down through the endless movie options, trying my best to find something Maren might approve of. So far, my efforts have been futile. It's now six in the evening and Maren is still in the worst mood possible, but I think the darkening sky is starting to make her a bit more pleasant.
"A thriller then?" I try again.
"No." Maren replies and I have to stifle a groan. "Too... loud." I watch her take another sip of water, oblivious to the death glare I'm giving her. Both of us are more than a little on edge today, between the hangover and the fact that I'm on my ninth glass of water, my nerves are running pretty thin at the moment and Maren's pickiness is not helping matters.
"A romance?" At this, she just raises her eyebrows at me, almost tired. I knew that suggestion was a long a shot, but she could have at least pretended to be interested. "You're going to have to pick something because Netflix is running out of options." I snap, unable to keep the irritation from my voice.
Maren glares at me and I match the expression, neither of us budging on the matter. After a few moments of tense silence, she finally says, "Give me the remote."
I comply, heavily slapping the remote into her outstretched hand. I'm too tired to argue and frankly, fighting with Maren is a losing battle from the start so I don't even bother. I don't watch she's doing, closing my eyes to escape the incessant brightness of the tv. My headache isn't even that bad anymore, but my attitude is still far from happy.
I open my eyes as Maren chooses a movie. "The Conjuring 2". A horror movie, of course.
"Maren." I groan. She knows my dislike for the genre and smirks, which I'm pretty sure is the first time she's looked happy today.
"What, are you scared Mar?" She teases. I just roll my eyes and look away stubbornly, earning a laugh from her.
"Alright, did you guys chose something without killing each other?" Riley walks into the room carrying a bowl of popcorn so large she has to wrap both arms around it to keep it from falling. She sees the movie on the TV and her face lights up, although when she looks over at me she quickly conceals it, looking almost guilty.
Maren raises an eyebrow at her popcorn bowl of choice. "Think you got enough popcorn?" She asks sarcastically.
"Maybe."Riley walks up to the couch, eyeing the spot where Maren is currently resting her legs, obviously wanting to sit there. "If you don't move your legs you won't be getting any of it."
Maren makes an annoyed noise but moves her legs, letting Riley sit down with the bowl. Aside from the three person couch, there's one armchair in the living room, but nobody ever sits in it because it is the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever. It looks nice though, the modern pattern a strange contrast to everything else in the house, which is either dated or cheap. Riley's sister picked out the chair.
The couch squeaks as Riley sinks into the cushions and Maren puts her feet up in her lap, the humongous popcorn bowl sitting on her legs. Maren picks up the remote clicks a button, the movie on the screen to coming to life. I sigh, making my displeasure known.
"Don't worry Mar, I'll protect you." Riley whispers, a serious look on her face. I roll my eyes and shove her with my foot, coaxing a laugh from her.
The movie starts off with a family, two boys, two girls, and their mom. They just moved into a new house and aren't doing well money wise, but they all seem content. The scene almost seems happy, but I know better. A few days later paranormal stuff starts happening in the house. Surprise surprise, I think sarcastically, taking some popcorn out of the bowl that's now a quarter empty due to our anxious eating. I try to distract myself with the food so I don't have to pay attention to the building suspense on the screen, but it's intriguing and I can't help but keep watching.
A paranormal investigator is called into the house and things get unsurprisingly worse. There aren't really a lot of jump scares, just slowly impending dread, which is somehow worse. Eventually the haunting gets so bad that the family has to move in with the neighbours to avoid it. The neighbours have a dog and one of the boys wakes up in the middle of the night to let it out.
"Oh no." I murmur unintentionally when the boy opens the door and the dog doesn't move. The boy, maybe seven, starts talking to the dog, confused at it's sudden change of plan.
"Don't talk to it, run you idiot!" Maren hisses, biting her thumbnail. The boy moves closer to the dog. "Okay, that's it, the kid is dead. He's gone." Maren throws her hands in the air in frustration, shaking her head.
"It's just a movie, Maren. Calm yourself." Riley chuckles, glancing at her cautiously.
"That kid is going to get himself possessed." She mutters, reaching forward for another piece of popcorn.
The ominous music from the movie gets louder as the dog transforms into a giant disproportionate man with a wicked grin and sharp teeth. The monster towers over the kid in the middle of singing some children's song in a demonic voice.
"Okay. That's nightmare fuel." Riley says calmly, tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
I watch the boy run from the monster, screaming and waking his family members as the giant finishes his song.
"Wouldn't it be funny if the power went out right now?" Maren says, smirking a little.
"No!" I reply immediately. I'm not afraid of the dark, but this movie is terrifying enough to make anybody afraid of everything. Or at least I think so.
Maren looks like she's about to say something but a particular loud noise from the movie makes us both jump, and whatever words she was about to say turn into a curse. In her surprise, Maren jostles the bowl on her legs and popcorn spills all over Riley.
"Ugh, Maren." Riley whines, looking down at her shirt where most of the food seems to have accumulated. Maren bursts out laughing as Riley fixes her with a look of disapproval, and I can't help but let out a chuckle too as the action dissipates on-screen.
"Get your nerves in check." Riley chides, taking a piece of popcorn off her shirt and chucking it at Maren who still has yet to calm down from laughing. It lands on her shirt and she picks it off and eats it.
Riley tries to act angry but it's hard for her to frown even on a bad day so I know it won't last long. She eats the popcorn off her shirt and I reach over, taking a piece and popping it in my mouth.
"See the bowl. Feel the bowl. Be the bowl." I say dramatically. Riley snorts, choking on the popcorn in her mouth and successfully sending Maren and I into a new fit of laughter as she struggles between coughing and laughing. Eventually she swallows the popcorn and shakes her head as Maren and I calm down to chuckling, the movie forgotten between the three of us.
"I could have died and you guys are laughing." She says. "You know what? I hope that dog-monster thing comes to get both of you tonight."
"You'd miss us too much." Maren grins, showing off a whole row of perfect teeth.
"Shut up and watch the freaking movie." Riley says, biting her lip to keep up her stern facade.
We all focus back on the movie as a second set of ghost hunters are called in, because apparently things are only now getting extreme. There are some possessions and some more jump scares, but Riley holds the bowl away from Maren's legs when those parts come on so no other disasters happen.
In the end, the girl who was being haunted the worst gets saved by one of the ghost hunters and they send the demon back to hell. So yeah, there goes my night of sleep.
"Well that was terrifying." I say when the last scene fades out. Riley and Maren don't seem fazed while I know I won't be sleeping for the next week.
"It's just a movie, you'll be fine." Maren replies, not seeming the least bit concerned and also putting me at ease a little. If it's not real it doesn't matter what happened because it could never happen anyway. The fact calms me.
"Yeah, I g-" I let my words cut off as the futures of the characters are explained in the credits. It's not fiction, this actually happened. Great.
"Oh." Maren says, looking at me cautiously. I glare at her and she has the nerve to smirk.
"It's okay, the demon is back in hell now." Riley reasons.
"That's comforting." I reply sarcastically and Riley turns away, probably to hide a smile. "How is this not freaking anyone else out? A dog morphed into a twelve foot tall monster and everyone just thinks it's fine?" I exclaim.
"Just don't get a dog and you'll be fine." Maren chuckles and I groan as Riley suppresses her own laugh.
"You guys actually suck." I grumble.
"Oh, you love us." Maren grins, causing me to roll my eyes in exasperation. I don't respond and Riley looks at me smiling almost apologetically.
"Well this exchange has been fun, but if you'll excuse me, I need to go shake the popcorn out of my shirt." Riley glares at Maren as she says this and gets up, dropping her legs on the floor. Maren tries to trip her as she leaves but Riley hops over her foot laughing.
When Riley gets into the kitchen, Maren turns to me. "Look, I seriously didn't know the movie was based on a true story. Sorry." Her earnestness surprises me and it takes me a few seconds to reply, shocked at her sincerity.
"It's okay, but if you try to scare me anymore tonight I will kick you in the face." I threaten, she laughs.
"Noted." She says. "And don't worry, you can sleep with me tonight so you won't get scared." She smirks at me and I raise an eyebrow. We're sleeping at Riley's again tonight so we'd all end up in the same room anyway.
"Are you sure you're not scared Maren?" I tease. She glares at me and shakes her head. I grin, knowing the movie frightened her more than she'd like to admit. She's good liar, but you can't lie to someone that you've known since kindergarten.
"Nope, I'm completely fine." She lies. "In fact, I think we should watch another one." Now I'm the one glaring and she's looking back with her signature smirk.
"Bite me, Maren." I grumble. She laughs, looking through the movies again despite my protest. It's going to be a long night.
Stanley
I collapse on the couch next to John, peeling off my rubber gloves and throwing them lazily on the floor. It's now one in the morning and after seven cans of carpet cleaner, four garbage bags, five pairs of gloves, three cans of Febreeze, and a very thorough vacuuming job, I'm finally confident that we have everything cleaned up. As long as dad never flips over the couch cushions, checks the garbage bin, or notices the suspicious amount of cleaning products in the cupboard, I should be in the clear. Joseph come out from the kitchen and doesn't even make it to the couch, lying flat on the floor.
"Done." He breathes, closing his eyes as if to go to sleep. I can't blame him, we're all exhausted from cleaning the whole day and all I want to do is go to bed. Actually, that might not be such a bad idea.
"Thanks for helping out guys." I say, my voice breaking the tired silence of the house.
"Yeah, no problem. Bro code or whatever." Joseph mumbles against the floor.
"Did you just say 'bro code'?" John asks. His question is only met with silence, except for a ringing sound, but I think that's in my ears. We all stay like that, twenty minutes going by easily in the unbroken quiet reverie.
Suddenly, the door unlocks and I shoot up into a sitting position and grab the gloves I threw on the floor. Dad shouldn't be back yet, his plane was supposed to land at two o'clock and it's only one-thirty. Sure enough, it's him that comes through the door quietly, probably thinking I'm in bed asleep. John sits up too when he notices it's who it is and he waves so dad notices us.
"Hey Sandor. How are you doing?" He asks politely.
Dad shrugs and sets his keys down on the table by the door. "I'm a bit tired, I never got much sleep on the flight." He takes off his coat, eyeing me suspiciously. I put on my most innocent smile, which I'm not sure helps at all.
"How was trial?" I ask, trying to draw his attention back onto himself.
Dad just sighs. "Stanley, why is Joseph asleep on the carpet?" My eyes widen as I remember that Joseph is using our floor as a bed.
"Oh, right. Um... well..." I don't really know how to explain the reason for my friend being passed out on the floor, but I suspect dad has already drawn his own conclusions.
"Yeah, we were just leaving actually." John interjects awkwardly, getting up from the couch and nudging Joseph with his foot. One of his eyes open and John says, "Come on, we have to go. I'll bring you home." John pulls Joseph to his feet and helps him to the door. "Nice seeing you Sandor. Bye Stanley."
"See ya John." Dad says, smiling at him. As soon as the door closes, Dad turns to me with a calm expression, leaning his shoulder on the archway of the living room. He's close enough now that I can see the dark bags under his eyes and his slouched posture. He must be more tired then he let on.
"You look exhausted, you should probably get to bed." I say, standing up and hurrying towards the stairs. My stomach sinks when Dad puts a hand up to stop me.
"Sit." He orders. I know better then to argue and go back to the couch defeated while he stays in the archway. The way he looks at me is like he knows something already. My nerves spike and I anxiously await the lecture.
"So I was having my breakfast in the hotel this morning," he starts, scratching at his beard. He'd much rather shave it off but apparently people with beards are supposed to be more trustworthy or something, I don't know. He's a lawyer so I guess it makes sense. "and a notification popped up on my phone from the banking app I have." He continues, walking further into the living room with his hands in his pockets. Oh no. I know where this is going.
"Anyway, so I looked at it and it turns out somebody bought two hundred and twenty-eight dollars worth of cleaning supplies, from my card. Now I don't know about you but that seems pretty suspicious to me." He says it with mock surprise, but I know that he knows it was me. I don't interrupt though, not really wanting the questions to come sooner then they have to.
"I phoned the credit card company and they traced the purchase back to the Walmart here. You know the one about two kilometres from here? And they said if I didn't make the purchase, somebody must have stolen my card and somehow figured out the PIN number. As you can imagine, that was a bit alarming to me. They were going to launch an investigation, but I told them no because I had a pretty good idea of who it could be." Every word is perfectly spoken, perks of being a lawyer I guess. He's now only a few feet away, and looks down at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation.
"I'll pay you back." I say lamely, knowing that isn't what he wants to here.
"Oh, that's not necessary. I just really want to know why you needed all that stuff, then you can go to bed." He says lightly. I sigh and look up at him, he's smirking at me like he's almost excited for the explanation.
I take a breath. "Well..."
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I put more POVs in this one but I think I'll just keep it to one or two POVs per chapter in the future. Nonetheless, thank you for reading and please review!