This is the fourth part of a series of guest posts by the ladies over at The Secret Life of Writers blog. Over these next two weeks, the five of them will be telling a collaborative story that we hope YOU will interact with and then help finish (which will win you AWESOME PRIZES MADE OF AWESOME. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing.)
For full event details, prize info and more, GO HERE!
Today's post is by Heather Marie.
***
Once we were inside the music was well on its way to neighbors-calling-the-cops mode.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Mouse, though I was sure she couldn’t hear me over the obnoxious bass.
I didn’t want to leave her alone for too long, but I was on a mission. Something was up, I knew it. There’s no way we got that invite out of the kindness of their hearts. Mouse was convinced they were trying to make it up to us somehow, after the scene they caused in the cafeteria last week, but I knew better. It was just another setup, and I was on my way to find Isabelle and the rest of the bitch-fits to put this shit to rest. Messing with me was one thing, but messing with Mouse, that shit does not bode well with me.
I pushed myself between a couple who were sticky with sweat and grinding way to close to one another.
“Watch it, freak,” the blonde snapped with a look of disgust, like the very idea of being touched by me was inconceivable. Guess my mask did the opposite of what I intended. Blending in wasn’t exactly my strong suit.
“Ouch. You hurt my feelers,” I said with an exaggerated pout, before giving her my favorite one finger gesture.
The whole house reeked of booze, and as much as I could have gone for a beer at that moment, I couldn’t let myself get distracted. But the need for a drink was hard to ignore when Caelyn and Seth Lancaster were in the kitchen getting rowdy with the rest of them. I needed something to block out those jackasses. From the looks of things, they were definitely on their way to puking their guts out. Someone’s gonna get their stomach pumped tonight.
Near the foot of the steps, Simon watched with his sad puppy dog eyes as Isabelle ran up the steps to her room. Beauty and the Nerd having a lover’s quarrel. Tsk Tsk. The poor fool didn’t know she was only using him. Isn’t that how it always goes with those types? Not far from him was Hayley looking all holier-than-thou. I guess winning the presidency does that to you. I ripped the mask from my face and threw it to the ground. I wanted her to see me, all of me, and know just how serious I was this time.
“Hey,” I said with a snap of a finger in her face.
“What?” she spit back.
I leaned in, forcing her back against the side of the stairs, making her as uncomfortable as possible.
“If I ever hear about you or your other bitch-fits fucking with Mouse again, you’re gonna have to deal with me. And you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Oh, please,” she said, clearly not grasping the extent of my wrath. She looked away.
Wrapping my fingers around her jaw, I jerked her head back in my direction. Our eyes dead-locked.
“Don’t think for a second that I won’t break that pretty face of yours. I almost want you to give me a reason.”
The music and jumbled voices around us gave no indication that anyone was aware of our little chat. She was alone, with me. Her lips began to tremble after it all settled in.
Mouse appeared in my peripheral, causing me to release Hayley before she could say anything. But with one last glance, the terrified look on her face told me I’d gotten through.
I followed Mouse up the stairs, weaving my arms through hers. When she went into the bathroom, I decided to search for Isabelle while I waited. She was the leader of this operation and if I had to go through all of them one by one, so be it. I was fed up with them and they way they treated people like Mouse. Whatever they had up their sleeve that night, I was gonna put an end to it.
The funny thing is, I don’t remember what happened after I found Isabelle. They say when you go through some sort of traumatic event that your mind becomes selective. You can remember some things up until that very moment and then, just like that, nothing. Whether Isabelle was alive or dead when I found her, I can’t remember. But when I saw Mouse with the blood on her hands, I didn’t know what to think. Something was wrong. Very wrong. And all I could think was: I have to get Mouse out of here.
People are capable of the strangest things if you push them enough. Awful things. I only wish I knew what really happened. Or maybe I don’t. It could have been anyone. I think.
***
Heather Marie is a YA writer who loves all things creepy. She enjoys writing horror/supernatural stories that make you question that feeling of someone watching over your shoulder. Heather spends most of her days reading and writing and plotting her next idea. When she's not in her writing cave, she enjoys watching creepy TV shows with her
husband and picking apart plot holes in movie
Wis.
No comments:
Post a Comment