An Eye for an Eye
How am I purring? I’ve never done this before! Am I half cat? Did I accidentally eat cat food this morning instead of real people food? Oh god.
“My god. She has to come with us. Ben, please let me carve a smile into her beautiful face?” Jeff was far too happy for this occasion. “I’m not going anywhere, I probably ate cat food this morning instead of mac’n’cheese. I’m sure this is a mistake.” I tried my best to awaken from the corpses and run towards the door.
But I was blocked by a tall, snow-white man dressed for a black tie event. I crashed into his pelvis (I’m not a midget, He’s just uber tall, I’m 5’8) and screamed. I looked up and saw a white oval, with a cresant moon smiling at me. No eyes, no nose, just a smile with beckoning yellow fangs spilling out. I stood in complete awe. “Ahhh, boys! I see you found the next profit in your rampage in the rank club.” The tall, slender man seemed to teleport over to Jeff and Ben, Sally was chilling out in the DJ booth. “We had pent up anger, Slender.”
Ahh, so this was the infamous Slendy. With the door unguarded, I grabbed the handle and twisted. The cool winter air hit my face as I ran as fast as I could towards the oncoming traffic. “HELP! HELP! MASSICRE!” I screamed out, catching many people’s attention. Luckily for me, a few of these people were police officers.
“Go home, Ma’am. Have a hot chocolate and enjoy your life. In the morning, you’ll be transferred into the witness protection program. We thank you for telling us a soon as you could. You may be traumatised for the next few days.”
The police officer was far from correct. I wasn’t traumatised, just a little bit confused. “Would you like a ride home, Ma’am?” The burly police officer asked me. I had left my Honda civic outside of the club, so I just I was forced to go along with the muscular officer. I gave him a shake of the head that could be passed off as a “Yes please.” I could go along with the act of being traumatised and let me dwell in my anti-sociableness, or tell him exactly what I saw and get throw in a metal institute.
I chose to go with trauma. We pulled up outside of my house, conviently in the middle of nowhere. “If you need anything, just give us a call.” I have to admit, the officer was a very attractive man, easily in his early twenties. I started walking towards the front door, and the police officer started racing behind me, probably trying to escort me to the door. “I’d actually prefer you call me on my personal number, the secretaries who answer the phones are quite arrogant.” He pulled a white slip from his jacket pocket. I nod curtly.
When We get to the front door, I open the door with ease and the officer looks at me with concern. “Oh, the lock is broken.” I answered. A whole new look entered the police officer’s face. “Okay, I insist that I stay overnight. I won’t have a beautiful girl like you get butchered by some sick bastard.” I was honestly flattered at his sweet comment, but I honestly didn’t think they would find me in the middle of nowhere. But, if they could, I wouldn’t be able to scream for anyone’s aide. “I guess, it’s for the best.”
I stepped into my house, kicking off my sneakers. The officer soon found my light switch. The living room was dimly lit. My laptop was still open, showing an eBook of Jane Eyre. I had a half finished burrito sitting cosily next to the laptop. Clothing was strewn across the room. “What a nice little home you have.” I know I live in a dump, but I make it work. “Please, take off your shoes. I think I have some guy clothes here somewhere.” I started to tread up my stairs to my bedroom. “Oh, you have a boyfriend?”
Oh, now that’s rich. “No, I have a few brothers that come in every now and then and leave their shit everywhere.” A look of relief washed over the officer’s name. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Brock. You see, the situation was so severe and I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself.” I drowned the rest of his useless banter out with my thought. I started purring while a serial killer pleased me. Do I have the vocal chords of a cat? Did Ben play a recording of a cat? It couldn’t be a recording, I felt it racking through my body.
I pulled out a black tee shirt that looked to fit snugly around the burly body of Brock. I snatched up a pair of grey track pants and rushed down the stairs. “So, do you listen to music?” I asked Brock. His face lightened up and a charming smirk enveloped his features. “Yeah, a little bit. I, umm, I listen to 90’s grunge. How about you?” Brock isn’t an asswipe. “I listen to death core and 90’s grunge, pretty much the same as you.” His smile widened slightly. “How about we put some on, I see that you have some sick speakers in the corner.” I grinned.
So he noticed my speakers. I nodded wildly and got up and slipped ‘American Idiot’ inside the disc slot. The bass started to vibrate the floor and I got an ingenious idea.
What could Georgia possibly be thinking?
Does she have feelings for Jeff?
Is she a stick of butter?