The search for Max had been continuing and all Kit could recall was their conversation in the woods, how he had spooked the man accidentally but it had sparked a conversation between them. In all this tome Kit was trying to figure out not the identity of the killer but the motive, the pattern behind these attacks and why did were some people left alive? Thanks to Dallas, Kit had some semblance of hope that Max would come out of this, not unscathed but at least with his life. Ana and Dean had lost far too much, this town had lost too much, they needed a small victory, even if it was just one handed to them by the shadow. They were playing his game.
His stroll around the park took him down his usual route, with his eyes glued to his phone as he answered work emails and texts and set up a probable new book tour when his new release was to be set. There were movie rights or to make it into a show, animated, live action, he didn't really know which to go. But truly all he could think about was Max. Kit looks up and even as a non believer, says a silent prayer that Max be found safely. A looming figure rose up near him, and from his peripheral he could only capture a glimpse of it before it had disappeared.
Kit saunters toward the direction he last saw the figure only for his eyes to widen in shock. A blood curdling scream claws out from his throat as he races down. "Please be alive, please be alive," he tells himself in repeat over and over again, until he's down on his knees covered in dirt and grass, looking over Max, checking to see if he has a pulse, it's faint, very faint and weakening, but it's there. The rest of the world around him faded quickly, it was all a myriad of sirens, as his hands caked in dirt and blood from the pressure he applied to Max's wound. Kit felt very small when they were carting Max away from him, his voice frail and almost defeated as they kept denying him a ride inside the ambulance, but he knew he couldn't let the man go alone, he needed to be there holding his hand, doing something other than just stand around like a scared little kid.
Somehow, Kit strongarmed his way inside the ambulance, having called in a favor from a friend. Never had he shed tears like this since he left the hospital, but he wept silently during the wide having witnessed a man slip away not once but twice but still clinging onto life. He thought about Max's child, Mason, and how he couldn't be left without a father as well, it wasn't fair, that child deserved to have Max in his life. Kit's pinky was laced with Max as he spoke, "I promise that I'll take care of Mason if anything happens, but don't you fucking give up on us please, your baby boy needs you. I know what it's like to be all alone Max, don't let Mason go through the same,"
As their ride came to a halt, Kit was left waiting outside the ER, constantly asking on his condition, but they couldn't give him a direct answer. So he sat in silence as he dialed only one number that seemed relevant in this moment. Ana.
She hasn’t eaten, she hasn’t slept, she hasn’t moved.
And she won’t.
Not until he’s awake.
Adriana sat in the chair beside the bed where Max laid silently. The only noise to be heard was the beeping of the machines in the room. Her hand wrapped up in his as her head rested against the edge of the mattress in front of her.
Her eyes are shut but she is not asleep. She is only listening and praying inside her head.
Gently she rubs the top of his hand with her thumb as she raises her head back up to look at him. This man in front of her who was always so strong, always kept her exactly where she needed to be. He looked so soft and fragile laying there, Adriana could do nothing but watch him breathe. Waiting for a flutter from his eyelashes and a squeeze back against her fingers. Anything that told her everything was going to be okay, even if it really wasn’t.
The sun began to peak through the windows where the blinds were pulled slightly open. Adrianas gaze was pulled there before she gave her attention back to him.
“Good morning, Max.” She reached up, brushing her fingers against the side of his face with her free hand.
She lets go of hand and brings her own up to her hair, pulling all of it together into a messy bun on the top of her head. Adriana doesn’t look her best or feel her best, but for the first time in her life she doesn’t need to. All she needs right now is in the room with her.
“You really know how to make a dramatic exit from a fight.” She joked with him, pulling her legs up to her chest in the chair. She rested the side of her face on top of her knees and looked at him as she spoke.
“I thought you'd be the one person in this town that was safe from all of this shit.” She really meant that too, “But I know you fought hard, Max. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t fight hard and keep fighting hard like you are now.”
Her hand finding its way back to his once again, Adriana needed to be touching him. She needed to know that he was really there, that he was safe now there with her.
When she had gotten the news that Max was alive and there in the hospital, it was the first time since receiving the news of Marcus that she was able to pull herself together for even just a minute to get to the hospital. She was still in the same sweatshirt and jeans from the day before but she didn’t care, she wasn’t wasting any time getting to his bedside.
Her heart was beating out of her chest by the time she got to the door to his room. She remembered feeling scared to open it, scared that all she would see is an empty bed behind that door. But, she turned the knob and there he was lying. It only took the sight of him to get her choked up and crying again.
She had rushed straight to his straight, holding his face lightly with her hands as she looked at him so hurt and unconscious. “Oh, Max.” She had whispered, putting her forehead to his. “My sweet Max.” Adriana couldn’t even wipe the tears from her face. They were coming so fast, both out of happiness to see him and fear of what the future held.
Now they were here, Max still unconscious and Adriana still by his side.
“I was so mad at you when you said you quit.” Her eyes still full of the same sadness as the day before. “And now I’d give anything for you to wake up and yell at me right now. I’d give anything just to hear your voice.”
It wasn’t until his absence in her life that Adriana really saw the importance he held with her. For years Max had been her right hand man, the person that she went to for everything. Before she had even left Marcus, she went to Max over him. He was her person.
“I need you to wake up, Max.” She released her grip from his fingers again, moving out of her chair and standing next to his bed. She brushed her fingers through the side of his hair, just looking at him for a moment.
She climbed up carefully on the bed with him, nuzzling her head on him as she held him close to her. Adriana listened to his breathing and heart beating inside his chest, nothing ever sounding more beautiful to her in her life.
“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” Closing her eyes for the first time as she felt like she could finally rest knowing he was safe there with her.
BEFORE READING, PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE FOLLOWING TRIGGER WARNINGS.
TRIGGER WARNING: MURDER, DEATH, BLOOD, GORE, SEVERE INJURY, KNIVES, KIDNAPPING, TORTURE, HOSPITALS, COMA, VOMIT, RELIGIOUS CONNOTATIONS.
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
It had been quite the tranquil evening in Max's quiet abode, the waters of Hove Lake kissing the shore with a gentle sensibility that put him at ease. Tonight had gone differently than he had anticipated, considering that earlier that day Mason had insisted on going to a friend's house. At first he had sat with the thought, uneasy all things considered -- knowing that there was someone or something out there waiting in the trees like a childhood boogeyman, waiting for weakness. But then he has settled, knowing that there would be adults in the house and quite frankly, he wouldn't be alone. Maybe, just maybe he would be able to get a full night of sleep.
Perhaps he was a bit too hyper vigilant at times, even if he was the only one in the house. This is why when he hears the first crash as he eyes flutter shut, sleep's hand just barely begins to reach out for him to take. Too much had happened in this town for a single sound to simply just be the wind.
A hand reaches for the pistol he keeps by his bed, moving slowly as if not to let the potential intruder know that he was aware of their entrance. When the time was right, he would let them know that his home was the wrong one to break into.
A finger slips around the trigger, with ease when he comes face to face with the masked assailant -- somehow knowing and yet not knowing exactly who they were. The Shadow had never been quite real to him until now, a figment of both his imagination and his greatest fears. The Shadow was much like someone he used to joke with Mason about taking him away should he not listen to his father's instructions. But now he was real. Max had known this, but he had been clinging onto some false narrative of hope. That everything would be okay.
As he presses the gun to the intruder's temple, emerging from the midnight to show himself -- perhaps he was a bit too cocky. Perhaps it was foolish of him to expect the assailant to come alone, but he is running on fear and very, very little sleep.
"Surprise, bitch." He says, ready to fire. Perhaps in his mind he hears the weapon go off, or it is the sound of his brain rattling against his skull as he hits the floor. There is a grunt that can be heard amidst the chaos and is incredibly distinct, somewhat feminine he notices but he cannot tell where it came from. He’s not exactly thinking about identity, but instead fighting for his life. He is not thinking of taking them down -- but reaching for the gun that has now skittered across the tile, creating perhaps the most haunting melody that could fall on desperate ears.
The gun.
He is so focused on the weapon that he doesn't notice the foot clamping over it, making any attempt to grasp at it useless. It is then he hears a familiar, ordinarily comforting voice in his mind telling him to do the only thing he can do. Fight.
The gun. The gun. THE GUN.
I need you to understand that I need you safe for my own selfish reasons and I don't care.
Adriana. She is only down the road from here, and he wonders how he can get to her. Make sure that she's safe, that they can get out of here together. They'll go for help, he'll get out of here. For her. He kicks. He scratches. He gets the upper hand, he loses it again. In a moment of success, his eyes return to the weapon. A mistake that may prove fatal.
Thegunthegunthegunthegu-
𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦
When he comes to, dazed as can be -- his first thought is that maybe, just maybe, it was all a dream. An incredibly fucked up nightmare that reminds him just how much he secretly detests waking up alone to an empty bed. But then the blurry haze becomes a picture and Marcus is sitting in front of him, battered and bruised. His friend's state, of course, causes him to want to run to him -- fix it. It is at this moment that he discovers that he is restrained. Of fucking course. Cowards. After the wounds he has likely left, bruises will be painted across the skin of his attacker. He hopes when he is dead, that they seal the deal. So no one else has to end up here.
"...Marcus?" He calls out, weakened but audible. His believes his first utterance is far from enough, and so he tries again. "Where are we? What..." happened. He makes an attempt to finish his sentence but is cut off by the sound of an opening door before arms wrap around him and tug him away from the other. His brother. Even if he had to watch silently as he tried to give the woman he loved the world and more, Max had never wanted this. It is why he has held back every desire that crawled like bile up his throat, at first disgusted by the thought of hurting him -- but he cannot deny much longer how good it feels to love Adriana.
He never wanted this.
He never wanted this.
"MARCUS! We'll get out of this, okay?!" He calls out, voice begging for some kind of response but not getting one. He has to get one, or it will kill him, shadow be damned. "We're gonna be okay, man! We're gonna be just fine!" He is desperate. Desperate to know that the other is conscious, desperate to hear his voice. The inhalation that comes next gives way to a scream that could stop blood flow, the thrum of his heart noting more than a nuisance in his ears now.
"MARCUS?!?!?!"
——
The first thing he feels is a push to the floor after putting up quite the fight. Even so, his current conditions have certainly begun to take a toll on him. As much as aggression is a reflex when he feels attacked, these abilities won’t be intact for much longer. This is evident as he does nothing but yelp as a foot connects with his abdomen, arms pressing to his side in an attempt to protect his ribs. Max knew he was a big fish, one that The Shadow found a sick delight in catching. If they were going to destroy him, he had every intention to make them work for it.
Then comes the sound of a knife being brandished, Max finding some kind of purity in the way the light catches it, the reflection projecting against the wall of where he is enclosed. But then the knife connects, sinking beneath his flesh for the very first time in a manner that is clearly enjoyed by the assailant. Slow. While he can’t catch a glimpse of his face, he can learn enough from the way they breathe. The look in their eyes, examining every inch of the metal blade.
The breath that escapes from between his lips is accompanied by a low groan, wondering for the first time if it would be better if he just gave in. Adriana and his sisters would make sure Mason had everything in the world. Perhaps they would not have the answer of why, what he had done to cause such anguish. Even still, he would never have to hurt the way he did growing up. Thus, perhaps it would be better if he simply let go. Let them win, let them possess the luxury of watching him take his last breath.
He thinks of those who would be without him. Those who will be left to pick up the pieces of his loss. Kit. Adriana. Em. Melody. He hoped she would know, no matter if she had gotten caught in his unbridled rage -- he never wanted her to forget how much he cared. He knows his sisters will surely miss him, soon his son will forget him -- or at least any physical memories of him. He hopes those he loves will fill in the rest. He will go on to college, live the life Max and Sylvie had always wanted for him.
Sylvie.
Maybe it’s best that he meets her. Up there, if there's even some remnant of a god in this universe. If he had the energy to laugh, he simply would have. He'd never see her again. If there was a higher power out there, then it sure must surely despise him. If his life could have been changed, Hector Aguilar wouldn't be his father and his mother would still be walking the earth. He stops for a moment and realizes that he wouldn't have been given the gift of his sisters being his sisters, but he needed her living somehow. She would have encouraged him to run, take Mason and run as fast as you can. Get your ass out of here if you know what's good for you.
But then he sees her face. Adriana's. And he wonders at times if Sylvie had sent her for him. Why would she? She wouldn't be so cruel to send him something, someone so beautiful only to take it from him with little to no mercy. Not that he deserved it. He was in love with his best friend's wife.
He stops noticing each incision of the knife around number five, his body becoming acclimated to his demise all too quickly. As the blood spills and his vision becomes hazy, he can see the faint vision of a figure standing over him - who no doubt takes some sick glee in his face as the knife penetrates his skin one last time.
The rattle of his breath is hard to ignore.
𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘥𝘢𝘺
He is a spectacle. That is the first thought that comes to mind when he regains consciousness. That, and he believes he is long dead. He always thought he was meant for hell, considering the choices he had to make in his life, the prices he had to pay that weren’t always material. But something feels rather angelic about the way his close friend, Kit, looks in the sunlight. After everything that has happened he appears so peaceful. Something in him tells him to go greet him, the blood loss feeling like nothing but a jarring memory as he makes his first attempt to stand.
Huh. That’s funny. He can’t seem to bring himself to stand.
After several feeble attempts he is upright, finding his footing as if he’s a toddler treading forward for the very first time. He remembers watching Mason’s first steps. Bringing a life into this world had terrified him beyond belief.
Mason.
He has to get home. He has to see the face of his boy. What has it been, days? Weeks? A century? Has he been frozen in time? He finds the questions ceasing for a moment as his feet carry him forward, until they are taken right out from underneath him. What follows is a descent down the hill that picks up speed before he can force himself to a stop. As he recovers, this is the first time he notices the blood on his clothes. And it’s not just anyone’s blood.. It’s his.
It is then that the grim reality sets in, as the clock on his life begins to slowly run out.
"Kit..." He calls out, hands pressed to two wounds in his stomach as he tries his hardest to speak. He can't hear if the words made it out, choking on each syllable. His ears feel like there is cotton spilling from them, as if he's swimming through the air.
He feels heavy. So, so heavy.
"Kit," he tries again, still louder than before - but not enough. It's the sound of his body hitting the ground once more that seems to make his presence known, but he can not seem to fight to stay conscious long enough to acknowledge the aftermath of success as his vision fades to black.
The ambulance comes as soon as another passerby calls 911. Max is just as he thought, a spectacle as he is carted in, Kit trying his hardest for a seat inside. The ride is certainly eventful, not that he would ever know. He dies twice while those racing to keep him alive fight for him harder than he perhaps would have ever fought for himself.
something in the orange tells me you're never comin' home
ft. @marcusxshaw, tw: grief
The world keeps spinning.
“My father is going to kill you!” A young Adriana laughs. Her hand is clasped tightly with his as they run through the fields of Hagfield, mud covering her once perfectly white dress and her sandals hanging from her fingertips. Before him there was never any disobedience to her fathers rules, never any laughter like there was now. As they hit the edge of the field, Adriana leaped forward and tackled an eighteen year old Marcus to the ground. Sitting on top of him as she giggled and looked down at him, “You’re gonna marry me one day, Marcus Shaw.”
Keep reading
"Adriana?"
She can hear the voice calling to her, it sounds miles away but she can hear it.
"Adriana, we know this news is hard but we need you to stay with us now."
It’s only been minutes since she received the news that her husband was dead. She hadn’t even had the time to process what was happening before her entire view went blurry.
She sat with a stone face in the chair in her dining room.
When they had showed up here with news that Marcus had turned up, Adrianas heart started beating faster than it ever had before.
Thank God, was all she could think.
Until she saw the look on their faces, so full of pity and sorrow.
“Your husband did not survive. We are so sorry to tell you that he was found deceased.” Was what they had told her and all Adriana could do was stare back at them.
“Can we get you some water or something?” The voice called out again.
This brought her back to the reality she was in.
She didn’t want water.
She wanted her husband.
Adriana stood to her feet, her hand flying up to her forehead to try and settle the dizziness that came with it. It was all too much for her to process.
“I need you both to leave.” She looked between both officers before turning on her heels to head for the front door. She swung it open and stared at them without saying anything. They understand, they had taken the hint that she was not going to accept any help they had to offer her.
The door slammed from her hand pushing against it and Adriana stood there holding herself up with her arms outstretched against the door. Her head hanging down between her shoulders as her eyes stayed locked onto the floor below her.
All she could think about was the last time she had heard his voice. The last time she had seen him. How stupid every fight they ever had seemed now. How much more Adriana regretted the year she left, an entire year of memories with him she would never have.
The movement it took for Adriana to find herself on the floor with her head cradling in her hands was fast. Her loud sobs muffled by her wrists pressed against her ears but the pain in her chest rang louder to her than her cries ever could. There was no stopping this, no amount of money her father could throw at it to make it all go away. She was forced to face the world around her now.
As she laid there curled up on the parlor floor, holding herself the way she wished he would. In a way that he never would again. All that flashed through her mind were the only pieces she had left of him. She pulled the sleeve of Marcus’ old sweatshirt sleeve overtop of her palms, bringing it as close to her face as she possibly could. Closing her eyes as the tears continued to soak her face, taking in the last smell of him she had.
“Do you like it?” Adriana stood in Marcus’ bedroom, twenty-three years of age. She held up a navy blue sweatshirt with bold white embroidered letters on it next to a stitched palm tree. It read ‘Someone who loves me went to Florida and all they got me was this sweatshirt.’. The dark haired girl laughed as she re-read the gift she was holding. “I saw it in one of those dumb shops before we left and I thought you needed it.” She had just returned back home from spending two years away in her hometown back in Florida. Adriana folded the sweatshirt up and set it down on the bed before wrapping her arms around his torso and looking up at him. “I missed you so much.”
Her breathing was heavy and there were moments she felt like she couldn’t breathe. There was no way she could move from the spot she was currently in, afraid that her legs would betray her the same way the world had. She stayed on the cold hard floor, sobbing through the new reality she was faced with while others held their loved ones close that night. Echos of his voice continue to fill her head.
“I, Marcus Shaw, take you Adriana Martinez, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do us part.”
Setting: After the news announcement of Heidi & Cami
Closed: @juliaxescarra
Wrapped in the quiet comfort of blankets and cushions, an arm lazily wrapped around Julia’s waist as a movie played quietly on the screen before them, Miles felt a moment of quiet content wash over him. His attention barely on the screen but more so on the woman pressed against him, emerald hues glanced down to features he admired so, full lips found her cheek, pressing a delicate kiss as he found himself unable to hold back on the affection. Everything about how they’d spent their day together had been better than imagined, even with the added babysitting duties of Rowan, Miles hadn’t minded. The wedding gift and card was in the post and although he was sorry to be missing the event, even the idea of the shadow threatening to make an appearance was enough to feel unsafe. After everything that happened at the party, Miles wasn’t willing to go through a similar experience again. As the evening drew on, he found himself blindly believing that everything had gone without a hitch to the plan. Settling further into the bed, Miles pulled Julia closer to his chest, a low hum falling from his lips in gentle vocalisation of his pleased state. “Are you comfy?” He whispered, pressing another kiss to her cheek.
It wasn’t until a gentle buzz of a notification on his phone broke the peace that he pulled his attention away from Julia, unlocking the phone as tired eyes scanned the news notification. “What the fuck?” Tone hushed as to not wake the sleeping child in the other room. A hazy mind struggled to process, reading the headline again in some hope that he’d misread the news, then once more as the shock settled in. “What the fuck?” He shot up, eyes widened frantically searching his surroundings as if an answer would come to him, “Jules…” Shaking his head in disbelief, he handed his phone to her so she could read the same headline, a somber look falling to his features. Immediately, feet found the floor, a hand tangling into his hair as he paced the confines of the room. A million questions began to race through his mind, none of which had answers. Shock and regret mixed together into a bitter concoction; brows furrowing as he lowered to the floor. “Heidi’s dead…” Came the whisper of acknowledgment, part of him hoping hearing the words out loud would allow for acceptance to sink it, yet that was proving to be a pitiful attempt.
Parties were never really Mayella’s thing, even as she grew older and liquid courage was introduced, she could never find herself comfortable amongst crowds of people. She’d always been like this, a background character amongst the ‘main cast’ watching different chain of events happen whilst those around her eased through without any problem. Like she always did, May skirted outside the crowd, watching with a smile as others had fun around her. The drinks were endless and the music was loud. It was a celebration, one for the books, finally something good in Hidehill. Even with the ominous threat from the shadow laying heavy on everyone’s conscious’, it seemed in this moment no one was bothered by it, and for the first time in forever, Mayella found herself relaxing, a wave of tension rolling off her shoulders.
Mayella finds her way back to her table, time slowing around her as the lights abruptly come back on and the music comes to an eerie halt. There’s confusion, of course, written all over her face as it wasn’t nearly late enough for the reception to end. The first thought that comes to mind is a fight had broken out, which wouldn’t have surprised her at all. Moving from the table and amongst the crowd again, it was the only way she’d get any insight into what was going on. Suddenly, there’s whispers, something awful happened to the bride, and again Mayella assumes it’s a fight -- but then her stomach drops, hearing whispers she’s been found dead. Which, that can’t be true, who would murder a bride on her wedding day? She refuses to believe it at first, thinking of it as childish gossip to cause panic within the crowd. An awful rumor that some sick person found funny.
It’s all quickly confirmed as another body is found, and the hall once filled with music and laughter is over taken by horrified screams and heartbroken cries.
Before she realizes it, she’s sitting, a coat wrapped around her shoulders, brown eyes staring blankly ahead as sirens and officers fill the room. She thinks back at how thrilled she was to receive the invitation, how happy she was for the couple. The foolish thought that nothing could go wrong at a wedding, how this would be one night of peace for the towns people of Hidehill. Oh, how wrong she was. This fun festivity tainted by some monster hiding behind a disguise, ruining everyones lives for some sick and twisted game. How many more lives would have to be ruined before it was enough?
Her thought is broken once an officer steps in front of her, slowly blinking back into this hellish reality. They ask a question that falls onto deaf ears, and May could sense the irritation from her silence. They were only doing their job, probably just as overwhelmed as she was. How does one calmly control a crowd who just learned the bride and a guest were found dead? It definitely wasn’t easy.
“What was your relationship to the victims?” Is asked once again, false sympathy unmasked by the impatient tap of a pen against a notepad. “I . . I didn’t really know either of them.” She replies, voice nearly above a whisper.
The officer doesn’t seem to buy it, but it’s true. Sure, Mayella saw them both in passing, but she didn’t really know them. That’s the part that makes her stomach flip, she’ll never get the chance to know either of them. It was horrifying of her to think, that Heidi and Camila were no longer with them. Two people who were just fine hours ago were taken from their families. There’s a few more questions thrown her way, answered just quiet as the first one. There’s no information from her, nothing that helps at least. She was just a bystander in all of this, unfortunately wrapped up in a terrible mystery that seemed to didn’t haven an end anytime soon.
Once the officer leaves, there’s a wave of sickness that comes violently crashing over her, it’s probably the alcohol she’s consumed throughout the night, but her conscious knows whats really causing it. The dangerous thought that no one was safe here, and it was a horrifying reality she unfortunately was coming to terms with.
the night had gone on perfectly. with acar with her, she was happy. trutly happy. which was something she hadn't felt in a long time. what actual real happiness was. she could only hope that no one ruined that night. but who knew what the evening had in store for them.
the blood curling screams had caught her off guard. what had started off as a good evening had soon turned to complete chaos. yasmin watched as people ran over to where the screams were coming from. this couldn't be real. couldn't they have had one night of fun without anything happening? yet alone in this damn hotel that seemed to be cursed now. taking a deep breath, she looked over at acar for a moment before pushing herself off of the chair she was. making her way out of the ball room, she watched as gabby ran over there.
it wasn't until she gabbys reaction that she knew something bad had happened. body starting to shake slightly, she made her way over to the people who were in front of the bathroom. please don't be real, please don't be real. she thought to herself. this had to be a nightmare they were all in. one big nightmare they would all wake up from and it would be over with. still, if it had been one, she herself would have woken up by now. but she hadn't. body still shaking slightly, she looked over the shoulders of all who were there. eyes widening, she slowly stepped back.
she didn't want to believe this. that cami was dead. her friend was dead. someone had killed her while everyone else was having fun. but who? who would have done something like this? those thoughts ran through her mind as slowly stepped back some more. it wasn't until she ran into someone that she came to a stop. turning around, she looked up to see acar. tears started for form in her eyes as she looked at him. she didn't want the night to turn out like this, yet it had. the night that was supposed to be perfect turned into hell.
it had turned into hell for everyone. feeling his arms wrap around her, all she could do was cry. for the first time in a long time, yasmin cried. she should have been used to this. losing people. after all with all of the friends she had lost in the army. yet seeing the body of her now dead friend? that shook her to the core. "she...she can't be dead. cami can't be gone." she whispered to herself. walking away from with acar, she didn't want to be near the bathroom. though once again, she came to a stop when the police walked in front of them. taking a deep breath, she stepped away from her date for a moment for the police to question her. "i just need to ask a few questions." he said.
yasmin nodded her head. just a few then she could go back to being with her date. the only person who knew how to calm her down. “What was your relationship to the victims?” the officer asked. "cami was my friend. we've been friends for a while now. heidi though, i rarely knew her.”she replied. cami had been one of the few friends she had in town. one of the few she enjoyed spending time with too. “What do you do for a living?” what did she do for a living? were they joking right now? why the hell did they even want to know what her job was?
"why the hell do you even want to know what my job is?" she asked. she could feel the anger in her rising. the feelings of sadness and anger mixing. "i'm a meteorologist. but why do you feel the fucking need to know that is beyond me." she spat. her friend was dead, yet they were asking useless questions like that. who the fuck did that? someones job wouldn't help with anything. “Given the time of death, where were you at the time?” hearing the last question, a sigh escaped her lips. "i was with my date. we were sitting at our table when we heard the screams." she replied.
all she wanted was to just get the hell out of there. she couldn't be there anymore. not while knowing her friends body was still there. "tha=" before the officer had any chance to speak, yasmin gave him a death glare. "go fuck yourself. you and the entire police department suck at your damn job." she seethed. if she blamed anyone, it was the police. "while you lazy assholes are on your ass, people are getting killed. so go fuck yourself." more tears falling down the sides of her cheeks, yasmin walked back over to acar before heading back into dining hall.
