"I'm sick, I'll leave you blind
Now the time has come
To leave this love that's left you dry
No need to work this out now
Cause you know there's no reason why"
-Another Love Song, Queens of The Stone Age
If there was one thing the students of Casper High's detention loved, it was recycling day.
Thursdays were easily the best part of the week for many of them. Sure, a teacher (usually unwilling) had to be with them at all times, but it was fun to just walk around, making a fool out of themselves while dumping trash always managed to keep Winnie in high spirits.
"Oh, shit."
Winnie licked at the blood on her thumb, hissing curses quietly to herself. The edge of the silver can in Mr. Falluca's trash can glimmered in the fluorescent light, razor sharp. Winnie picked it up again, delicately, before flinging it into the trash can on her caddy.
"Language, Miss Gallows."
"Tell Mr. Falluca to please stop putting sharp objects in the trash, then!" she snapped back, before chucking the bin back in the room and slamming it shut.
"You good, Gallows?"
"Peachy." she grumbled back to Mendoza, who simply grunted back in response and continued on his way.
Delmar Mendoza was another regular in detention, a grade higher than Winnie. He was heavyset, his frizzy hair tugged back on his head in a ponytail, his clothes baggy on his large frame. Winnie considered Delmar a good friend of hers, surprisingly, despite the fact she only saw him whenever she received detention.
Oh, the princess is wounded, by a mere cut…
Sometimes, I really do hate you.
But you love me! I'm hurt.
When have I EVER told you that I've loved you?
Sometimes, it's the actions that count…
Winnie couldn't help but snort at his comment, falling back into her routine.
Open door, throw bin in can, close door, rinse and repeat.
Winnie loved routine. The thought that something in her life could be consistent was riveting to her. The fact that something could stay the same for God-knows how long was riveting to her, and for the longest, she hadn't really had a chance to experience that. She hated to admit, but the only consistent things in her life right now were her mother, school and Nightcrawler. But, even then, Nightcrawler didn't count, considering he wasn't exactly there by choice in the first place.
She hated the fact that, as much as she loved it, she wanted something to happen so, so very badly.
Night? Do you ever get the feeling that something's gonna go really wrong?
Explain.
Well, it's just-
"So, are you-"
"Jesus!" Winnie yelped, dropping the bin she just grabbed on the floor, papers scattering all over the tiles. She rushed to her knees, grabbing for them frantically.
"Sorry, sorry!" their voice was nasally, kneeling down in front of Winnie to grab up the mess as well. The boy was rail-thin, his blonde hair a mop on his head. His braces were shiny in his mouth, which seemed all too wide for his face. "I didn't mean to scare you!"
"Don't do that shit," Winnie shook her head, ignoring his frantic apologies. She had given up putting them back into the bin and that begun balling them up into the can, the boy doing the same. "You've been here three days and you've already managed to scare the living hell out of me. Good job, Abe."
Abe was one of the newer members, a freshman, from what she'd evaluated. He was loud and exuberant, with his off-brand humor, but Winnie couldn't help but feel motherly towards the boy. Sure, he didn't exactly make his crush on her subtle, but he seemed to do the same to all of the older girls he saw, so she didn't look that much into it.
"That's what I do best," he skipped past her, reaching for his own caddy and shoving it lightly down the hall.
"It's not you, Ackner, Winnie is just a pussy who scares easily." Winnie glared over at Mendoza, rolling her eyes at his lax smile.
"He's not wrong." Rayman joined in, his tone dry. Rayman was another regular, a boy in her grade, his hair shaggy and his clothes covered in dried paint. "I managed to scare her when I sneezed."
"You all can go die." Winnie flipped Mendoza off, trying to fight the smile growing on her face. She closed the final door, wrapping up the usual run they all did. Abe had abandoned his can by this point, and was walking alongside Winnie, trying to be as slick as possible.
"So, uh, ghosts, right?"
Winnie tried her hardest to ignore the cackle that rang in her ears, her grip tight on the caddy's bars. "What about 'em?"
"You don't think they're cool or anything?"
"I mean," Winnie replied, "we used to get out of school early when ghosts came. Now, we rarely do. They're not so cool, anymore?"
"...What about Danny Phantom?"
Danny Phantom almost knocked a hole in my damn house. He never minds his business. He thinks EVERY single ghost-related thing has to do with him, and he literally woke me up from my sleep a few days ago. He's a piece of sh-
Bad words.
"I don't really have an opinion," Winnie blinked, "I don't really care for him."
"You don't think he's cool? He's literally a ghost boy! What isn't there to like about it?"
I've been attached to a ghost for two years. TWO. He got the easy route.
Ooh, that stung a little.
"Don't you have trash to be collecting?" Abe yelped, rushing back to his caddy when he realized that everyone else was already finished. Winnie didn't even bother looking back, shaking her head at Mendoza and Rayman, the two wheezing with laughter at the encounter. Winnie only shook her head once more, before thinking of the events about to unfold later that day.
Yes, today, Winnie had something to ruin.
Now, Winnie wasn't ruining her mother's date for no reason. No, this man, the elusive Ernest Patton, was a mystery. There was almost nothing to his name, at least in the searches, all except for a lone picture in the mirror, his grin crooked. And that gave her very good reason to ruin it. This man? No, he was the devil, as far as she knew. Nothing about him sat well in her stomach. Nothing.
Has anybody ever told you you're insane?
So far, only you, actually.
Winnie phased through the wall of the Craven with ease, dodging past waiters and chefs in the busy kitchen. The floor was slippery and wet, Winnie trying her best not to slip and blow her cover. The objective was simple - ruin the date. Get home before Mom did, and act like nothing had happened. In fact, she had already been rehearsing the lines in her head, every I'm sorry, that sucks and Oh, really?
The restaurant was full of plush, red tables and twinkling lights, the crystal chandeliers dizzying. The windows were long and paneled, the city's downtown bright and shining from the openings. The Craven was one of the more expensive spots in town, and everyone in the restaurant fit the theme, that was for sure. Every person, alone or not, was dressed in lavish clothing, the men in excessively tidy tuxedos and the woman in sparkling gowns.
What do you gain from this?
A good night's sleep, hopefully.
Ernest Patton looked nothing like the photo online, that was for sure.
He was a handsome man, sure. He was bulky, with a chiseled jaw that seemed a bit too pointed for her tastes, his hair auburn and slicked. She could see why her mother would find him cute, sure. But, her mother also married her father, so it didn't really matter in her book. His tuxedo seemed a tad bit too big on him, and he kept fiddling with the silverware, his finger grizzling the side of a butter knife.
To say Daphne Han was radiant was an understatement. Her makeup was flawless, her lips painted the color of coffee. Her dress was black and sleek, cascading down to her bare legs. Her tattoos were exposed, coiling around her neck and arms, her face content and her smile plain.
Oh, bummer, he's cute. It's a shame he's not stepdad material.
I'd let him be my daddy.
Can you, like, never talk again?
Winnie took a deep breath before she saw that her feet were off the ground, her body raising higher and higher in the air. No matter how many times she did it, she would never get used to flying, or anything of the sort. To her, it felt like walking on a treadmill, so she often left that part to Nightcrawler, letting him take over momentarily and watching from her own eyes.
"...Must say, Daphne, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight." she heard as she made her way to the table, stopping as she hovered closely over the couple. Their table still had only wine, her mother's half-full and his already downed. The smile he gave was crooked, before he took another sip of his drink.
"Thank you, Ernest," she thanked him easily, crossing her legs, "This restaurant is so fancy, how did you even get a reservation?"
"Ah, let's say I know someone," he joked, "Tell me, how did you end up bartending?"
"I just really enjoy the art," she shrugged, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp (it was then Winnie realized it was water, not wine), "What do you do?"
"Accounting." he stated, "It's boring, I know."
"Oh, that's not boring!" she shooed, "You don't have any other hobbies?"
Is this what adults do on dates? This is boring.
"I like to fish," Ernest began, "I grew up near the ocean, in Key West."
"In Florida? That's so far!" Daphne chuckled, "I grew up in China, so I really can't say much."
Ernest gave a hearty chuckle, "Do you have any hobbies?"
"Me and my daughter rollerblade sometimes. That and I-"
"Wait...you have a daughter?"
"Two, actually," Daphne answered honestly, "One's twenty, and my youngest is sixteen. That's okay with you, right?" Ernest's eyes glazed over, momentarily, as if he was lost in thought, before he gave a quick head shake.
"No, no, it's just you look so young!" his cheeks flushed, "Anyways I…"
Okay, I'm going to tune this out. What's the plan, Winifred dearest?
I was thinking fire alarm.
That's simple, even for you.
Maybe I'm feeling simple today.
"...I can take you home."
Oh, no. That's the line for me.
Winnie began to ascend towards the ceiling, her fingertips touching the fire alarm above. An exhume of smoke poured from her lips, the shill noise piercing her ears the moment it hit the round device. People jumped up with speeds she didn't know possible, rushing towards the door like a stampede.
"Everyone! Please, exit in an orderly fashion!"
Daphne and her date hopped up, Ernest saying something she couldn't make out over the clattering of silverware and stomping of feet. Her mother seemed to give a response in return, zipping out of the building and blending into the crowd. Before she knew it, the auburn head was lost as well, and they seemed to blend into the horde, diffusing into the night.
Winnie phased through the ceiling, into the dark sky above, gliding towards the edge of the building. She peaked over it, staring at the busy bodies dashing out of the establishment. It didn't take her long until she spotted her mother, standing near a barren tree, standing out in the chilly night.
Mission accomplished.
Damn, he was cute too.
When her mother arrived home a bit past eleven, Winnie had taken her usual spot on the loveseat, a face mask covering her features and a book in hand. "Someone's home early."
"Yea," her mother flung her coin purse on the counter, flopping on the couch next to her daughter, "He was so...boring. And he stood me up when the alarm went off."
"Well, you're not boring, that's for sure," Winnie gave a shrug, "You don't deserve some dork. You need someone to match...whatever you got going on, there." her hand made a motion over her mother's figure, before she turned another page of her novel.
"Maybe you're right, Xia," her mother admitted, leaning back on her daughter's thigh as she spread out on the couch, "I didn't even get dinner, damn."
"Does ice cream count as dinner?"
"It does now."
You're a little shit, you know that?
I hear it twice a day from you.
As far as Miss Han knew, she didn't know what was coming, not at all.
No, Ernest Patton was a simple man. Everything he had told the lovely woman was true. His hobbies. His interests. He loved fishing, he'd loved it since he was very young. He also loved drinking, he loved vodka and drinks that burned his throat, that made him black out when he was done with them. He loved long, walks on the beach. He loved the beach in general, he had grown up practically on the beach, his mother and father had loved him very much and provided him with all the resources he needed to succeed in life.
The only lie was that he wasn't Ernest Patton.
Mick Roth was a simple man, really. He didn't want success, success was besides the point. He wanted to be seen, to be heard. And if this is what he had to do, so be it. He would go on for as long as he could, so far there had been fifteen. And if there was to be fifteen more, men or woman, so be it. It wasn't his fault she had children.
It wasn't his fault she'd end up in a ditch somewhere, either.
And then, everything shut off.
He didn't remember blacking out. No, he remembered running towards the doors, then it was dark, the feeling of rushing wind around him. That wasn't him. Had he drunk too much? All he had was a glass (or two) of wine, it wasn't anything to make him pass out. He was sure of it.
When he blinked again, he was in the back of a station truck, his hands cuffed and his eyes blurry.
"Fuck," he groaned, slamming his head against the headrest, over and over again.
"I'd be saying that too if I were you." the officer grumbled, peering at the man in the mirror as he drove to Amity Police Station, "I better be getting a raise for this."
Mick Roth was a simple man.
"This just in, the Darly Slasher has been identified and captured, near the scene of a local Amity Park restaurant. More to be given at ten."
Told you, bitch.
this chapter was revised/rewritten as of 4/19/19!