So I was talking with my friends Rochelle and Stevie a little while ago and I was telling them about these creepypasta stories that I'd accidentally found on pinterest.

Stevie: (really confused) So is that a pope or something?

Me: ...

Dez: ...

Me: (starts laughing cuz I don't understand what she said but it sounds funny)

Dez: ...

Me: (starts laughing harder cuz I suddenly do understand what she said and it's hilarious)

Dez: (starts laughing cuz she gets it now)

Stevie: (embarrassed) Wait, I'm confused now. Is a pastor the same as a pope?

Me: (dying) Not that 'pasta'!

Stevie: Ooohhhh, you mean the food pasta! But that doesn't make sense...

Me: It's the name. They're a bunch of scary stories and characters and they're called creepypasta.

Stevie: (starts laughing)

Me: What?

Stevie: I was just picturing a piece of macaroni or something with the pope's face on it. With a creepy expression.

Me: (dying)

Dez: (dying)

Stevie (dying)

So there you go. Something funny before something serious. I told you guys last chapter to be prepared, didn't I? Cuz I think you'll have to be to read this. Some of you, anyway.

So last chapter, Mich snuck around to Quasi's bedroom, they started playing guitar together and she saw something suspicious. This chapter, the holidays start, there's more sneaking around and something intense happens. That's all I'm saying.

Read on :)

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

'Say Something'- A Great Big World.

The school term soon ended and the last week of September passed in a whirlwind of parties, movies, ice-skating, trips to the city and a huge shopping trip that nearly depleted my pocket money. My regular routine of schoolwork and music was replaced by fun and sleeping in and a list of projects that wouldn't get done until after the holidays. I was constantly worried that my parents were spending too much money on us, a trait left over from our less... let's just say, less exuberant days. But as dad pointed out, he was in charge of the budget, not me, and he knew exactly what we could afford and what we couldn't and he had it all under control, so for God's sake stop worrying and let him spoil us for once. So I had fun and tried not to freak out when dinner at Sizzlers set us back more than $100. The first week of October and the second week of Spring break was going to be even more exciting- my friends and I were going up to Gympie with a friend of the family and his 3 boys to visit Dez's uncle, who lived on a big property and was throwing a massive bonfire/party like he did every year. We would camp out on the property in our little 3 or 4 person tent, play pranks on the boys who would be next to us in the bigger tent, learn to ride a motorbike, meet new people, stuff ourselves with junk food, veg in front of the TV for a few days and just hang out for a week. For Dez it was an opportunity to catch up with relatives she rarely saw. For me it would be a great chance to reconnect with my friends who I had been neglecting.

The night before we left, we all slept over Dez's place, all of us packed and really to leave early the next morning. We had a 'Pirates of the Caribbean' marathon, decorated her brother's room, took numerous selfies that ended up being deleted, played around with makeup and overdosed on sugar, so by about midnight we were bouncing around and giggling like a bunch of six-year-olds. Mercifully, when we got around to playing Truth or Dare, beyond the usual 'do you like him' no-one said anything about Quasi. I answered no, just like I had when they asked me about Robert (Dez's brother) and Max (Em's brother) and every other guy we knew, and they left it at that. I had expected them to gang up on me to force out what they thought was the truth, but even though I blew them off every day to hang out with him, they seemed to have forgotten it.

But I hadn't. The holidays had been too full for me to miss him exactly, but at 2am, when the girls had just fallen asleep and were snoring peacefully, I lay awake in my sleeping bag and stared out the window at the barely-visible stars and wondered if he was awake too. Probably not. Then I wondered what he would do if I woke him up at this time of night (or morning). And then I spent the next ten minutes calculating the quickest route from Dez's place to his and trying to decide whether I actually wanted to leave my warm spot on the floor to venture into the cold, dangerous streets of Boronia Heights.

I still don't know what it was that made me grab my leather jacket and a packet of lollies, jam on my sneakers and climb out the window. Nor do I understand what I wasn't scared out of my mind to be walking around a neighbourhood that was known for its crime. Boronia was all housing-commission and low-income families, and bad things happened there all the time. But, with my mind distorted by sugar, lack of sleep and adrenalin, I never even stopped to consider whether I might be putting my life in danger or not.

I'm surprised I made it there without being mugged or raped or murdered, but the odds were in my favour than night and there was no-one about on the footpaths or the road. Good thing, too, for I probably looked a strange sight- messed up hair, leather jacket and dark blue pajama bottoms. A few times I thought I was lost, but I shuffled down Short Street, across the road, past the shops, and into the next street, and then I started recognising landmarks- that fence, that tree, that dead possum by the side of the road that still hadn't been disposed of and was now just bits of fur clinging to a skeleton of the creature it once was. And then I found the street I was looking for and the rest was easy.

I lie.

It would've been easy if it was daylight and I could see exactly what was in my way. It would've been easy if I had a torch with me or if the light from the streetlamps reached all the way to the back of the house and if my blind determination had lasted a bit longer. And it would've been so much easier if I didn't have an overactive imagination that frequently ran away with me when confronted with something like this that could've been the setting for a horror movie. Or at least a really scary story. I almost turned back when I saw the shadows cast on the house that flickered every so often as the streetlamp lured bugs in to their deaths. My stomach twisted as the house seemed to leer at me, its window like great dark eyes and the door like a cavernous mouth eager to devour me. The yard that I knew held nothing but grass and rubbish suddenly seemed like a collection of things ready to pounce. Terrified thoughts started swirling disjointedly around in my mind. What really lived in that grass? What wicked creatures lurked under the piles of rock, dirt, bottles and other trash? If I stepped into this unknown territory, would my feet be grabbed by unseen hands? Or would I fall down a hole and hit my head, unconscious and prey to whatever roamed here at night?

My heart was beating hard and painfully loud in my ears by this time, and my breathing quickened at every noise I heard. I had to stop imagining things or I would stay rooted to the spot all night, unable to move or think. I'd probably freeze to death if someone didn't grab me first- the damp, cold ground was already seeping into my battered sneakers and numbing my feet. I had to move. I had to stop freaking out and think clearly. Move, dammit!

Have you ever tried talking some sense into yourself? I don't know about you, but it never works with me. Time for a different plan.

I opened the packet of lollies, wincing at the great noise it made, and shakily pulled out a snake. I couldn't tell what colour it was in the dim light but at this point I couldn't care less. I needed to the sugar.

As soon as I bit into it, my head started to clear. It's hard to be scared when you're chewing on something sweet and the artificial sweetener coats the inside of your mouth like a comforting blanket. The things in the dark that were surrounding me backed off and suddenly my feet were obeying my brain again. They took me over the fence and slowly across the yard, where I picked up a stick and held it in front of me like a sword. Spiders beware- there was no messing with me tonight.

I shoved another lolly in my mouth as I started down the side of the house, heading towards the corner window. The light didn't reach this far, but in the almost-blackness I could see that it was open a crack, and when I came nearer, I stopped, eyes widening, for I had heard something. Just a quiet, constant, heartbreaking sound.

Crying.

Quasi was crying.

It wasn't loud. In the Doctor Who episode 'The Beast Below', the Doctor had said that children mostly cry to get attention or to let everyone know that they were hurt. But if a child was crying silently, it was because they just couldn't stop. Something terrible had happened, I was sure of it, and being the curious person I was, I wanted to find out what it was and try to help in any way I could.

So I knocked lightly on the window and peered inside, my breath fogging up the glass. "Quasi?"

The crying stopped at the sound of my voice, but there was no movement from inside. So I tried again. "Quasi? It's Mich…"

The rustle of sheets and movement behind the window; then Quasi's pale, tear-stained face appeared and the window was pushed up quickly. "What are you doing here?" he whispered fiercely, wiping the last of his tears away with an impatient hand. He looked almost angry that I was there, which surprised me for a moment and made me wonder uneasily whether I had actually done the right thing coming. Maybe I had interrupted something important, though that didn't seem very likely.

"I couldn't sleep," I answered with a shrug, subtly (or I thought so, anyway) examining him like a doctor examines a patient. I wanted to know what it was that was upsetting him, why he was always looking so mournful and why I had just found him crying in bed. I knew by now that though he knew I was his friend, he would not tell me what I wanted to know. But I asked anyway, just for the sake of it. "So, what's up with you?"

"What? Nothing, I'm fine." He looked away, and I wondered whether he knew that I was never going to give up, never going to stop trying to find out the truth.

"You were crying."

"N-no I wasn't."

"Yes you were, I heard you."

"I...I was d-dreaming."

I crossed my arms. "Ok, what were you dreaming about?"

"My mother," he answered quickly and almost defiantly.

I didn't believe him. For one thing, I was sure he hadn't been asleep- he had reacted too quickly. And his answer was so unconvincing it was ridiculous- I was about to chastise him for his terrible lying when I noticed the dark bruise that spread under his good eye and was immediately distracted. Without thinking I reached forward to touch it and was startled when he jerked away because I pressed too hard.

"Oops, sorry." I shook my head in disapproval. "Where'd you get that?"

"Ah... A- A ball." I almost snorted- even the first syllable sounded false.

For the first time I actually felt a bit hurt. We had become pretty good friends and he had told me the truth about his actions with Esme, and I had thought he'd tell me of all people if anything was going on, but it seemed that all he ever did lately was lie to me. Such obvious lies, too. Did he actually think I believe him?

"A ball, huh?" I took another lolly and offered the packet to him. "What kind of ball?"

"A... a cricket b-ball. We were playing and it flew into my face-"

"What, you mean from a bat?"

"Y-yeah-"

I crossed my arms. "Uh-uh. A cricket ball coming at you at that speed would do some serious damage. Choose something lighter." He froze, a lolly halfway to his mouth, and I laughed at his stricken expression, thought I really felt nothing like laughing. "What, surprised I saw through your flawless deception? 'Course I know you're lying. You're always lying." I thumped the windowsill, suddenly angry and forgetting to keep my voice down. "Why do you always lie to me? I thought we were friends!"

He glanced at the door in panic, fear in his eyes. "Shhhhh! I-I-"

"Don't you shush me!" I put my hands on my hips and glared. "Why don't you trust me? Friendship is a two-way thing ya know, and that includes talking. You've gotta start telling me the truth." I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "What is going on?"

He drew back, rubbing the backs of his arms and shrugging helplessly. "I-I-I'm s-sorry-"

"You know what?" I threw the packet of lollies at him and shoved my hands in my pockets, tired and fed up. "Keep 'em. I'm going home. I have defended you time and time again, and I'm willing to help you. If you can't talk to me even though you know I can back you up in whatever's going on, there's no point in me staying.

"B-but it's not-" he started to protest weakly, but I help up a hand and cut him off.

"Goodnight, Quasi."

The walk home was uneventful and quick; I walked fast and my mind was blank except for my frustration at his reluctance to talk to me. But as I climbed in Dez's window, stripped off my jacket and shoes and nearly fell onto my sleeping bag in exhaustion, I hoped I hadn't ruined whatever tense friendship we had by getting mad at him. God only knew what he had already had to put up with in his life without me flipping out at him. I didn't hope for very long, thought, because in few minutes I was fast asleep.

Next morning, we left for Gympie.

Gympie was great. Although there was nothing interesting in town and the country usually bored me to tears, we were kept busy as we helped chop wood and set up the bonfire, made desserts, planned pranks to pull on the boys and started learning to ride the little motorbike. And although I ran over one of Sean's precious saplings and fell off the bike more than once and was subject to many episodes of 'Peppa Pig' by Dez's little cousin, I had the time of my life. Because for one thing, Sean (Dez's uncle) played guitar. So in the moments when we weren't socializing and being crazy idiots and wrestling the boys to the point of injury, I was getting guitar lessons; and by the end of the week I could play a number of easy songs and was looking for something a bit more challenging. I was so proud of myself and I couldn't wait to show Quasi all I had learned.

I didn't think about him a lot over the trip, but when I did, I felt guilty. I hadn't meant to get angry at him, and the more I thought about it the more I realised that if he didn't want to tell me what was going on in his life, then I had no right to try to force the issue. It wasn't any of my business, even if we were friends. I mean it wasn't like I was going to tell him every little thing about me and my life and 'air my dirty laundry' at him, so to speak. There were just certain things that I wouldn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone, not even the girls. So why would I try to make him talk and begrudge him the right to keep stuff to himself, even if I was insanely curious and a little bit worried? All I could do was hope it wasn't anything terrible and move on. It was probably just bullies after school, anyway. Lots of kids got bullied and put down and didn't want to share it. He was strong- if things got too bad I was sure he could take of himself. So I told myself thing whenever I let myself think too much about it and then dropped it, choosing instead to make the most of what was left of the holidays.

But all too soon it was time to go home. Friday morning I sprayed silly string all over the boys' tent, then helped pack up the camping stuff, packed my bags, ate the last off the leftover pavlova for breakfast, said goodbye to everyone and hopped into the van, ready to go home.

The ride home was noisy and took all day, the eight of us- me, Lester, his 3 boys, Dez, Bex and Em- packed in and exchanging photos and stories and complaining about having to go back to school and laughing over funny things on pinterest and uploading photos to instagram, and then Lester turned the radio up and we had a karaoke thing instead. It was so much fun and I was a little sad when it ended and we were dropped off at home.

That night we slept over Dez's again. I was surprised when, exhausted from our busy week of partying hard, everyone crashed at about 11. It was so unlike our usual sleepovers, where we didn't start heading for bed until 4 in the morning and then those who fell asleep first were drawn on with sharpies. Overtired, I found it hard to get comfortable and felt wide awake. I tried to sleep for a little while, but my mind was too active. I think you can guess what happened next. I was outta that window and halfway down the street before I know what I was doing, hyped up and spurred on by the success of my last late-night escapade. But what you wouldn't guess- at least not at first- was what else happened that night.

There was no car in the driveway when I got there. The spot was completely empty, and the only thing that showed there ever was a car was the flat grass and faint tire marks outside the house. Was he out? At this time of night?

As far as I knew, Quasi never went out. He just didn't. Perhaps it was his father. If that was the case, I didn't need to worry about being quiet and I could stay for longer. Good. I smiled and climbed the fence, then grabbed a stick and walked quickly around the side of the house. No fear of terrifying creatures this time!

There was a faint light coming from his room, which I nearly tripped over and fell on my face to get to once I saw it. But when I looked in the window, I couldn't see anyone. The lamp on the desk across the room was on and pointed at the bed, but there was no-one there.

"Quasi?" I called softly, pushing up the window with some difficulty and sticking my head in the room. "Hello?"

A tousled red head popped up from out of nowhere and scared me half to death, making me bang my head on the windowframe. "Mich?"

I winced, rubbing my head. "You know that's the second time you've frightened me to the point of injury?"

He glanced at the little clock on his bedside table then back at me. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, nice to see you too." I pushed the window up a bit more and crossed my arms on the sill. "Same as last time. We got home from Gympie today and everyone was knackered, so they're all asleep. I couldn't, so here I am." I sighed. "Actually, what I really wanted to say is I'm sorry for getting mad at you last week. I have no right to force you to say anything and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's your business, not mine. Forgive me?"

"O-of course." He looked at the clock again and an expression of panic crossed his face. "You sh-should probably go now."

"Already? But there's no car in the driveway- you're dad's not here, is he?"

"N-no, but he'll b-be home soon."

"He won't find me. I did spend the last few years successfully trying to be invisible."

He shook his head forcefully. "You sh-should leave. It's...it's safer."

"I swear, he won't even know I'm here." I drew my jacket around myself and breathed out, watching the smoke it made in the air and trying to ignore the fact that the cold ground was seeping into my shoes and numbing my toes. "Beside, even if he did, what would he do? Ground you for having a girl over without permission? Take away your guitar? Actually, that would be pretty bad, but seriously, it's not like he's gonna doing anything major like arrest me-"

"Mich..." Quasi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if summoning his courage; I frowned in concern when I saw that his hands were shaking. "I-I... well... he..."

We were interrupted by the sound of a car driving up the street and headlights flashing over the house, and the car pulled into the driveway; at this, Quasi went white as a sheet and ducked down onto the floor again- from the look of it he was shoving whatever he had been doing under the bed out of site.

"You need to leave now." His voice was shaky, fearful.

"Oh, Quasi, really-"

He looked at me pleadingly. "Please just go."

"Ok, ok, fine," I grumbled, edging away from the window as I heard the sounds of the car door slamming and the front door being unlocked. "But he really will never know I'm here." An idea popped into my mind and I almost laughed at the obviousness of it. Quasi was sweet for not wanting me to be found by his obviously strict father, but I didn't need to leave. I could just wait until he went to bed and then go back and talk some more. So I stood there leaning against the wall, listening to the front door opening and the heavy and... uneven footsteps? I frowned. There was a thump, a crash, the smash of something ceramic or glass and a string of slurred curses. My jaw dropped. This guy was a policeman. A policeman had had too much to drink and actually driven home? If anyone should know better... I jumped as the door opened in Quasi's room.

"Hey Quasimodo, you ugly sot!" slurred the voice whom the curses belonged to. My eyes widened and my hands clenched in immediate fury at the words, but before I had gotten over the first shock the voice was right next to the window, and I had to cover my mouth to stop the squeak of surprise from giving me away. "What's this window open for; it's freezing out there." Said window was yanked down and slammed shut, and I edged back towards it and peeked through the glass.

I was just in time to see him grab a handful of my friend's hair and yank him off the bed and onto the ground. Quasi immediately flipped over and started backing towards the wall, terror written plainly on his twisted features. The man who was supposed to be his father followed, smirking as he spoke something that I couldn't hear and which made Quasi cringe. He asked a question; Quasi looked down, submissive, and answered it quietly. They conversed for a few minutes, his father waving his arms around drunkenly and him downcast and shrinking into himself with every answer he made; then he obviously said something the other didn't like, because Officer Frollo suddenly and unexpectedly slapped him and kicked him onto his side. I watched, tears frozen in my eyes and both hands covering my mouth with horror as Quasimodo curled himself into a ball and made no move to defend himself from the drunk's boot that swung and struck his back and side again and again and again...

I think, as I watched this horrible scene unfolding in front of my eyes, the thing that got to me the most wasn't the violence but Quasi's reaction to it. Despite the ridiculous amount of pain he must have been going through, he made not a sound; he never said a word, never cried out, never made even a whimper. The thought that had entered my mind back during the beating Phoebus had given him came back to me now- this must have happened so many times before that he was almost used to it. But for how long? How many times had he been beaten, abused, hurt so badly that now he always expected it and didn't even try to escape? I was afraid of what the answer might be.

I don't know how long it went for, how long I stood there unable to move or breath while my friend was beaten black and blue by his own father, but eventually the drunk began to stumble between kicks and decided to quit for the night. He aimed one last clumsy, parting kick at Quasi's head and lurched out of the room, slamming the door behind him. When he was gone, Quasimodo slowly, painfully picked himself up and stumbled the last few steps to his bed, where he collapsed in a broken pile and didn't move for a while; and when I was freaking out that holy crap he might be dead oh please don't be dead come on move dammit move after what seemed like ages his shoulders started to shake and he was crying just like he was a week ago when the exact same thing must have happened just before I got there and I never had an idea of the scale of what had occurred.

The window was pushed up and I was halfway inside by the time I had even thought of it, and I landed on the bed next to him with all the grace of a baby giraffe. But when I gently touched the top of his head in an effort to be of some comfort, I was not expecting him to sit up suddenly and look at me, the tears in his eyes turning to fury, and whisper angrily "What are you still doing here?" as if I had just committed the worst crime imaginable.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I stammered, tears blurring my eyes as I saw the way he held himself, gingerly and almost paralyzed with pain. "I thought I could wait until he left... I didn't know he w-was gonna..." Despite my efforts, the tears fell and I choked out a sob. "Oh Quasi, why didn't you tell me?"

He shook his head, his breathing labored. "Go away, Mich. Please just go away."

"But why-"

"Go."

"But Quasi-"

"Go!"

"I can't just-"

He looked up and glared at me again, cutting me off for the third time. "Go. Away. I don't want you here. Just go away and don't you dare tell anyone what you've seen. Get out of here."

He was serious. I shook my head, lips quivering, and backed away from him towards the window. I scrambled through and landed unevenly on the ground outside, then looked back inside at the boy on the bed who refused to cry again until I was gone, wondering if we were ever going to be able to go back to what we used to be.

I watched him for a moment, but when he eased himself over and slammed the window in my face, I left, my feet searching blindly in the darkness for the way home as I cried and cried for everything that had happened in the last few months and realized that I was back to where I had started. He didn't want me to tell anyone or say anything, and for now at least, I had to honor that, no matter how strong the urge was to ring the police and blurt out the whole story.

Once again, there was nothing I could do.

I really didn't want to leave it here, but whatever else I wanted to write would take too long and I guess it can wait. Let me just say that there is a reason that she can't tell anyone about what happened and you'll find out next chapter.

Review and tell me what you think. I'm expecting lots of capitals and exclamation marks from at least one of you, haha :) Also, tell me what you think is going to happen next, I like to hear your ideas and input.

See you next time :)