Two updates in one week? That's right (and yes, I'm counting my update on the other story on this, thanks)!
I'm writing this as I'm sick so I hope it's not crap. It could be though. I do everything very badly when I'm sick.
Anyway, thanks to everyone who has followed or commented or just reads this! It makes this lil' ol' heart of mine all happy and junk when you do! :)
John Egbert woke up to the bruised face of the dawn, his phone vibrating on his chest, and exhaustion tugging hard at his brain, attempting to coax him back into the dark peace of sleep. Tempting though it was—extremely tempting, so much so. Gosh, his skull felt like it was being split in two he was so tired—he knew it wasn't an option. Or at the very least, not a good option.
With a low groan, he scooped his phone off his chest, peering at the digital numbers flashing across its screen. 6:30 a.m. Yeah, that was about the time he needed to get up and get ready for school.
Feeling distinctly like death, he unlocked his phone and shut off his alarm before tossing it back onto the bed and forcing himself to sit up. It was still dark in his room, the fall season readying itself to hand the city over to the cool kiss of winter, but it only served to make it harder for John to drag himself out of bed.
Since he showered last night, he didn't bother with it this morning, and simply slipped into a pair of jeans and a Ghostbusters T-shirt before staggering to his bathroom.
The light blinded him for the first few seconds, ambushing his poor retinas until he was leaning against the wall, blinking and squinting and feeling even more unwilling to leave the sanctity of his house for high school. Ugh. Why couldn't he be older and graduated already?
From there, his body was on autopilot. His hands brushed his teeth, his fingers combed through his hair, his legs carried him down to the kitchen and worked with his skilled arms to slather jam onto a piece of toast. He didn't think about anything else as he grabbed his backpack and keys; he didn't think about the bills he still needed to pay, the stacks of homework he would probably have due to missing yesterday, the troll that was still supposed to be sleeping upstairs, or the creaking groans of the floorboards in the guest room. No, John Egbert didn't think of any one of these numerous things as he left his house for school, which was a blessing for now but a terrible curse for later.
Instead, John focused on reaching his school without getting into a wreck, an accomplishment which wasn't as easy as one might think when the driver was still a quarter asleep.
However, despite the odds, he was proud to say he parked his car and made his way into the school building unscathed! He was so talented. Sometimes he even impressed himself with how awesome he was. Who else could drive when super duper exhausted and live to tell the tale? Probably everyone in America, but it was still a wonderful feat and John was content to take it as it was.
He found his friends chatting by their lockers, Dave leaning back against them as Jade and Rose talked to and around him. John waved and called out to grab their attention, beaming at them through his exhaustion. "Hi guys!"
"Well if it isn't the delinquent," Dave called back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I heard you were skipping school, John. Care to explain yourself?"
John glanced around quickly, giggling nervously when he didn't see any teachers. Whew. "Uh, yeah. I guess it was kind of stupid. I was just really worried that my troll would be delivered without me there, so I stayed home." Speaking of trolls . . . crap! He totally forgot to check on the deadly little guy this morning! Crap, crap, crap! There was no way he would have time to check back before he had to head off to work! Gosh, he really hoped the troll would just sleep through the day. Please, please just let it/him/her sleep!
"Likely story, Egderp. Likely story. I'll let it slide this time but pull a stunt like this again and I'm grounding you."
"Shut up, Dave! You're not my dad," John scowled.
"Show me the blood tests and then I'll buy that."
"Okay, okay!" Jade cut in between them, laughing. Looking over, John saw that Rose, too, was chuckling behind her hand, violet eyes lit up with humor. "Jeez, I didn't realize how much I would miss you two interacting after a whole day without!"
"Then why are you interrupting? If you enjoyed it so much, sit back and watch the show." Dave responded with a raised eyebrow.
"Not this time. John looks like he's going to fall over any second, and I doubt you arguing with him is going to help with that! Right, John?" she questioned, looking over at him with a big grin. He couldn't tell if she was kidding or not, but he nodded anyway.
He was a man, after all. Men could admit to weakness.
The bell signaling the start of school shrieked overhead, and the group all said their goodbyes before heading to their separate classes: Rose to Psychology, Jade to Physics, Dave to AP Music Theory, and John to Biology.
There was something John liked about Biology. It wasn't the students or classmates, as they were all loud and obnoxious and whiny, and it was probably not the teacher, who was only okay as far as instructing went. He wasn't really sure what it was that attracted him to the subject; maybe it was the way it explained things, the way it made functions seem less weird and more scientific and logical, maybe it was the obliteration of childish fears and falsehoods and the establishment of reason and expectancy. He didn't know, exactly, but he enjoyed learning it and pouring through the Biology textbook. John even considered going into Biology himself someday, though college during his lifetime was an "if" at best and a certain "not going to happen" immediately after he graduates at worst.
The rest of the day passed as school typically does: agonizingly slow, boring, and with a few frightening wake-up calls in the middle or end of a few classes. This equaled another day of detention (and it probably wasn't good for him to be so familiar with the routine of after school detentions by now, but what else could he do?), which meant there was no WAY he was getting home before he had to drive off to work. In fact, the only positive to detention was he was forced to have an hour's worth of time in which he could get all of his makeup work out of the way.
It was four by the time he was released, and he ended up hurrying to his workplace, where there was once again a few people waiting outside for him to open shop (crap!) and who were not happy to be standing around while he fumbled with the locks on the doors to the bakery.
From there, the hours blurred into a line of flour, scowly faces, and dough. John didn't have any time to think, much less worry over trolls and homework and bills, which was kind of nice in a "oh my gosh, why can't I just be lazy?" sort of way. Unfortunately, that only lasted about an hour into his work, when the customers ceased coming into his store and left him to stew in his thoughts at the counter, chin propped in his hand as he stared into the night outside of his shop's windows.
It was dark outside, but John could only see a single, thin bar of black sky against the backdrop of shops lining the street, not enough to give him a pretty view but enough to determine what general time of day it was. He stared at that strip of sky, mind wandering over to his troll.
What was it doing right now anyway? Was he (John was pretty sure it was a he, so that was what he was going to refer to it as) staring out through the bars in his cage, bored out of his mind? Was he still sleeping? Was he—crap—starving since John forgot to feed him this morning? Did the troll miss his friends, assuming he had any? Was he scared, just waiting to be put into another ring and made to fight to the death?
Well, that last one wouldn't be happening ever again. John would make sure of that, at the very least.
Unfortunately, he didn't have many customers that night, so he closed shop a bit earlier than he usually did, though he was covered in no less flour than was typical, and he drove on home, gripping his steering wheel a bit too tightly.
The lights in the house were all off, which should have been a good thing, but only served to make John shudder and paranoid. It was just so . . . creepy with the house's windows gaping and dark. Logically, it should make him slightly more reassured that the troll was still in his cage, but instead it made him anxious that he would be hiding in the house, waiting to ambush the human.
I'm being an idiot. He thought firmly to himself. If Rose or Jade were here, they'd probably tell me so, too.
Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that darkness didn't mean anything in this context, he forced himself to shut off the engine and get out of his car. The house loomed over him in the night, crickets singing around his yard, the only witnesses that would be around should something go wrong.
Stop that! You're acting stupid! His conscious chastised. Believe it or not, it sounded strangely similar to Jade. Go get your butt inside right now, mister! Quickly, before I mentally smack you!
Another deep breath, and he forced himself to walk up to his porch, push his house key into the lock, and turn it until it clicked open. John paused, breath held and waiting, but no noise erupted from the other side of the door, and no force suddenly collided with the wood and attempted to claw its way out to get him. Maybe he really was being stupid.
More confident in his safety, he opened the front door and let himself in, turning on the living room light so he could see. No angry trolls, nor any other sort of harmful intruder. John was in the clear.
With a relieved sigh and a laugh, he shook his head at himself. See? There was nothing wrong. He was safe, his house was safe, and his troll was most likely still sleeping upstairs. All was well with the world, thank goodness. John was free to shower without the fear of a foreign creature tearing into his vulnerable skin.
Or at least, that's what he thought as he bounded up the stairs two at a time, tired and covered in flower as he was. Because it had been the only light switch he'd been nearby, only the living room lights were on, leaving the whole second floor and kitchen swathed in pitch and shadow, obscuring John's view. Which, considering he only got a few steps into the second-floor hallway before he heard a nauseatingly threatening growl, was not a good thing.
He froze instantly, heart jumping up into his throat. Through the pulsing beats, he heard another, lower growl, and nails scraping over wood.
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap crap crapcrapcrapohSWEETBETTYCROCKERIT'SCOMINGCLOSER—
John didn't spare another second for observation or thought; with his fight-or-flight instincts screaming, he turned tail and fled back down the stairs, terror igniting through his very bones when he heard another tearing after him oh gosh.
The front door was right there, closed and locked but right freaking there, he just had to get to it to leave the house and jump into his car. Then he'd be safe; he'd drive away, maybe to Rose or Dave's house, it didn't really matter. He'd drive away, stay the night, and be safe until he could figure out what to do. Perfect plan.
Only he never made it that far.
He hit the ground floor and sprinted towards the front door, cutting diagonally across the living room, but right as he hit the very center of the room something heavy and hard collided with his back, forcing the air from his lungs and sending him face-planting into the carpet. A snarl sounded above him, but he didn't have time to properly react before claws were digging in to his shoulder blades and dragging through the fabric of his shirt and his top layer of skin, splitting him open for the world to see. It hurt, it hurt like fire and knives and a knife on fire, drawing a gasp from his mouth and sending his fingers into a spasming frenzy against the ground.
"Get off!" John wheezed, so panicked that he could barely speak, let alone yell.
The troll pinning him to the floor made another intimidating noise, a series of clicks and rumbles that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Oh man was he bleeding? He was totally bleeding. The troll made him bleed. The troll was violent and was attacking and made him bleed. Okay, that was very not okay.
Another clawed swipe down his back left another hot stripe and furious, shrieking nerves and a lot of pain, and maybe this time John screamed, he wasn't really sure, he only knew that his elbow suddenly came up nice and sharp and hit the troll, which made a weird noise as it fell to one side, successfully unpinning him. Taking advantage of the moment, John pushed himself to his feet and glanced between the front door and the staircase before taking off for the stairs, a vague bit of plan revealing itself to his frightened brain as he pounded up the steps, the troll below only remaining so for another moment before it was suddenly thundering after him.
He had to get to the bag. He had to get to it. Things would be okay if he could just find that stupid little bag.
As soon as he reached the upper floor, he ran for the guest room, barely sparing a second to note how the door was now a mess of splinters across the floor as he flipped the light switch, desperately looking around for the black bag the delivery guys had given him yesterday.
A screech suitable for war ripped through the house just as John spotted the bag. He didn't waste any time, just lunged for it and began digging through its contents, fear making his fingers clumsy.
The troll entered the room then, eyes glowing in the dimness, but John could barely make out anything else about it. It sauntered into the room slowly, eyes lowering as if it were crouching, getting ready to pounce him like—like a big predator getting ready to catch its prey. Gosh, that was a terrible analogy. Thanks a lot, brain. Now he was even more terrified of this stupid creature than he had been before.
Just as he wrapped his hand around a shot—success!—it paused in front of him, as if readying itself for the kill. John didn't give it the chance; as soon as he had the shot, he threw the bag to one side and launched himself at the troll, shot held out and ready. The troll snarled at him, one set of claws coming up to slice through his flour-stained shirt, the other brushing across the back of his head—oh good golly gosh please no—but John was faster. He stabbed the needle into the troll's back to inject the drugs into its tough body.
Unfortunately, like most drugs, this stuff didn't do like it did on TV and act immediately. No, the troll had time to shriek into his ear and drag claws down his ribs and yank the hair on the back of his head, enraged at John's assault.
He cried out, trying to squirm away, pushing at its arms and chest, but it wouldn't let go. His heart rate spiked in the unholy horror that rose up, because oh my gosh it wasn't going to let go. It was actually holding him here, all sharp claws raking at his skin and glinting fangs, and it was very possible that it was going to rip him to pieces in his own home—
But it didn't. It tore another five lines down his chest before its grip went slack, allowing Egbert to pull away with a loud, panting breath, staring at the troll as it swayed and growled, glowering at him in the darkness. It attempted to stalk closer again, obviously agitated at itself for letting go, but it tripped and fell to the floor, where it snarled quieter and quieter until its noises stopped entirely.
John waited a few minutes, gulping in sweet, sweet oxygen, hands held up to his bleeding chest. It didn't move any more though, and after a few more minutes, it began to snore.
Okay. Okay. So it was most likely asleep now. Okay, good. Awesome.
He checked just to make sure, inching closer and cautiously poking it with his shoe. It didn't move or make any sound other than a loud snore.
Perfect. It was asleep, it shouldn't suffocate if its angle was anything to go by, John's chest was bleeding and his back was in so much pain he was surprised he could still stand, and everything was A-okay. Yes. Alright. Now he should probably drive himself to Rose's house for medical aid if he didn't want to possibly bleed out in his own home.
Now, John never did remember how exactly he got to Rose's house, because one minute he was in the guest room with the snoring troll, thinking about how he needed to find Rose, and the next he was in his car, covered in blood, and sitting in the Lalonde driveway blinking and dizzy. He does know, however, that he never made it inside on his own two feet, because he distinctly remembered resting his cheek on the steering wheel and closing his eyes right before he passed out.
For anyone confused by Karkat's actions: please understand that right now, Karkat is extremely animalistic (the next chapter will explain why don't worry your little head over it). So yeah, he's confused, hungry (as mentioned earlier), and probably a bit scared. He's going to lash out and try to kill anything and everything; it's what frightened predators do.
So yeah. Explanation over.