Author's Note: Not really much to say about this chapter. . .it's beginning to foreshadow the plot that's to come. All will be explained. . .eventually. ::evil laugh:: Let's see. . .things used in this chapter:

Random Object: silly string (contributed by Goddess of Ivy)

Place: the subway (contributed by Goddess of Ivy. . .a looooooong time ago)

Chapter 5: Truth or Dare

~~~**~~~

December 29th

Aimee walked in and carefully shut the door behind her as quietly as possible. The glowing red face of the clock on the counter read 4:52 AM. She walked into the bathroom and shut the door, listening all the time for the sound of Collins' quiet snores in the next room.

She turned on the light, wincing as the beams reached her eyes, and examined her image in the mirror.

No wonder people were staring on the subway. I look like I stepped out of some horror movie.

She opened the medicine cabinet and began searching through it, still keeping her ears peeled for any sense of a stirring in the next room. She got out the rubbing alcohol and the bag of cotton swabs and gently swiped the cool liquid over the insides of her arms, blinking back tears at the needles of pain that instantly shot through her skin.

Aimee pulled out a roll of gauze and began wrapping it around her left arm, then froze, lost in thought. It wasn't that long ago that she'd been in high school, living at home with her parents. She'd been a straight A student, top of the class, with a promising career in medicine. Then IT happened. That was the only way she could think of that night. Could face it, was by labeling the event as IT.

A nondescript, nonspecific, nonthreatening pronoun. IT could be anything in her mind. That is, anything besides what IT really was.

A knock on the door made her jump, nearly made her run. She realized too late that she'd let her guard down. How long had it been?

"Yeah?" she called shakily.

Collins slowly opened the door and stepped in, regarding her with a look of silent concern.

"Aimee?" his deep voice was full of questions. "Where were you? What the hell happened?"

Aimee stiffened, preparing her excuse.

"I-I told you. I'm a waitress. I work a night shift. Someone broke glass in the kitchen and well-I guess I'm clumsy."

Collins looked skeptical.

"You work at a diner? Must be a pretty rowdy place for you to be getting hurt this much. And pretty flexible hours, too. You think you could tell me what your schedule's like for next week? You know, just so I could know?"

Aimee bit her lower lip, wincing at the metallic tang of blood that instantly washed over her tongue.

"I-I-"

Collins nodded.

"That's what I thought."

Aimee rounded on him like a wild animal backed into a corner.

"What is this, Tom? An interrogation? What are you gonna do, turn me over to the cops?"

Collins just shook his head.

"Aimee, I'm just trying to help you. Please tell me what happened."

"Nothing!" Aimee snapped, "Not like you would care anyway. Everything fell apart since you left. I remember-waking up that morning and you-you weren't there. And Mom and Dad said you'd left. Just left. And you never called, and you never visited. Mom and Dad stopped talking to me. And then to each other and everything just fell apart. And *you don't care.*"

With that, Aimee turned and walked out, slamming the door of the apartment, leaving Collins standing there, staring after her in shock. She started out into the night, letting the darkness wash over her, envelope her, sealing in all the pain and confusion. Images flashed across the back of her eyes, like a horror movie coming back to haunt, hours after the film has ended.

Screaming. . .hands, always those hands, coming out of the darkness to touch her, to hurt her. . .the hands around her throat, shaking her. . .then release. . .fallingfallingfalling. . .the glass tabletop. A loud bang, and the sound of fragments scattering across the linoleum floor.

~~~**~~~

January 1st

"Mimi, you're up!" Mark called out gleefully, "Truth or dare?"

"Umm. . .truth. . ." Mimi muttered hesitantly.

Mark grinned, "Most embarrassing moment."

Mimi groaned, "Damn. Couldn't you have picked *anything* else?"

"Come on, Meems, we're waiting," Roger taunted, tickling her until she was rolling on the floor.

"All right, all right! I surrender! Um. . .okay. Well, when I was in tenth grade, I had this huge crush on my geometry teacher's son. So one night I'm at this party. And we're all drunk. So my friends and I decide that we're gonna break into his apartment and steal his underwear. So we climb up the fire escape and sneak into the bedroom through the window. We get in there, and there's this guy asleep in the bed, snoring really loudly. So we're all giggly and completely trashed. We get to the dresser, and pick up the underwear. And then we hear this grunt, and the light goes on. And there's my geometry teacher, sitting up in bed. We got the wrong bedroom."

Everyone dissolved into laughter.

"Okay, Roger," Mimi purred, smirking at him. "You're last on the torture list. Truth or dare?"

Roger eyed her warily, then took a deep breath and blew it out in a quick puff of air.

"Dare."

Mimi's eyes lit up with a demonic gleam. She got up and pulled something from under the couch, then went over and took Roger by the arm, keeping it behind her back. She lead him over to the front window and ran her arm across it, clearing a streak through the grime coating it.

"See that Range Rover?" she asked, pointing.

"Benny's?" Roger asked, puzzled.

Mimi nodded, laughing to herself.

"He's in there right now, probably with Kati. And you, darling, are going to take this silly string," She paused and made a show of pulling it out from behind her back, "And decorate that car."

"Oh, no I'm not!" Roger protested.

Mimi shoved him in the direction of the door.

"Oh yes you are. You are, or you're gonna be celibate for a month!"

Roger groaned, took the silly string from her, and shuffled his way out the door.

The group gathered around the window, eagerly watching as Roger made his way up to the Range Rover. He walked around it in a slow circle, then pressed down on the trigger of the silly string can, covering the black car in strands of bright purple foam. Just as he was finishing, the door of the building opened, and Benny strutted out, pausing in shock at the scene he'd stumbled into. Roger tried to run past him, but Benny blocked him, yelling some nondescript obscenities that caused the group of onlookers in the loft to burst into uproarious laughter.

Roger was attempting to dodge past Benny and yelling excuses that amounted to "they made me do it." Benny, in an uncharacteristically good mood, grabbed the can from Roger and doused him in the purple foam. Roger yelped like a wounded dog, but finally succeeded in running past him and back up the stairs to the loft.

"Aw, poor baby," Mimi laughed as Roger appeared at the door, his entire upper body covered in silly string. "He got your shirt all dirty. Guess you'll just have to take it off."

Roger laughed and lifted up his arms, allowing her to pull his shirt over his head. Maureen whistled obnoxiously at him as he retreated into their bedroom to get another one.

"Hey, has anyone heard from Collins?" Mark asked suddenly. "It's not like him to miss something like this."

Maureen waved a hand dismissively.

"He's probably just at a party for NYU faculty or something."

Mark looked doubtful.

Roger reappeared wearing a clean white t-shirt, and everyone sat on the floor in a circle around the coffee table.

"All right people, time for New Years Resolutions!" Mark announced. "Everyone has to think of the most ridiculous resolution they can!"

Roger shook his head.

"We *know*, Mark. We do this every year."

"Well I'm just making sure!" Mark protested.

Roger patted him on the head.

"It's okay, Mark. There *is* medication for that."

"Hey!"

Mark dove at Roger, knocking him to the ground.

"Whoa, whoa. . .violence!" Maureen protested.

"Any time you boys are done, we can get on with this," Joanne broke in.

The two men finally stopped wrestling and sat up.

"Okay, who goes first?" Mark asked.

"You do." Roger answered.

"Okay. . .umm. . .I resolve to. . .eat more peanut butter!"

Maureen wrinkled her nose.

"Ew, you're gonna get fat, Marky! Not that it matters. . .not like you have a love life anyway. Okay um. . .I resolve to. . .stop believing in my mood ring."

Joanne gave her an odd look.

"I didn't even know you *had* a mood ring. . .I resolve to clean more often."

"Jo, that's not a ridiculous resolution!" Roger protested. "I resolve to. . .learn to play guitar with my nose!"

"I do *not* wanna see that guitar after you try that. . ." Mimi warned, "I resolve to paint my toenails a different color for every month of this year."

"So that's that then." Maureen said triumphantly. "Now we need to have our ritual, or else the new year won't start right."

Everyone gathered in a circle around Maureen, trying to hide their scorn at her ridiculous tradition.

Maureen lit a candle and began speaking in her most mystical voice.

"Oh spirits of the New Year. . .bless us. . .make our resolutions come true. . .may you be. . .pacified by our wishes. . .bring us peace, happiness and freedom in the new year. . ."

There was a loud pop, and the power blew.

"It's the Y2K bug!" Maureen shrieked in the dark.

"Mo, that's not for another two years." Joanne muttered dryly.

The group dissolved into laughter for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

~~~**~~~

Okay, you now what I want. Same things as always. And please review!!