brutal

Chapter 3

VERENA

2:13 A.M.

I grunted and rolled in my bed at the digital clock that hung overhead the doorway to my bedroom. I've been up all night cleaning my guns and daggers. My prized possessions.

The phone rang from my bedside table, the brightness from the device lighting up the darkened room. I removed it from its charging port and looked at the caller's name. Irene.

"You still up?" She asked with a deep voice.

Lights streamed through the gap below my door from the living room. "How terrifying it would be if I weren't and I picked up."

She scoffed and opened the door to my room, phone still pressed to her ear and coat in hand. "Let's go out."

I ended the call and squinted my eyes at her as it started adjusting to the bright lights from outside. "It's two in the morning, Rene."

"So? You can't sleep. I can't sleep," She opened my wardrobe and tossed me my coat. "Might as well have fun in our last hours of freedom."

Rolling my eyes at her, I stood and wore the leather coat that stopped just below my knees. I opted to wear the leather boots and black scarf I'd often pair with the coat, silently celebrating that I could finally choose style over comfort.

"You're so dramatic." I commented as I walked out of the room and glanced at Jasper's closed door. "Dead asleep?"

"Dead asleep." Irene parroted. She grabbed the keys from the coffee table and opened the door.

We walked out, hands pocketed. The streets were empty at this hour, save for the few drunks and commuters that roamed around.

"Where'd you want to go?" I asked Irene that was fixing a beige scarf around her neck, matching the coat she wore.

She sighed and locked my arm with hers, her lips growing to a knowing grin. "I know just the place."

「＊」

The waitress arrived at the table with a forced smile on her face and a tray full of food. She laid the plate full of pancakes and bacon in front of Irene, and the basket of french fries and vanilla milkshake on my side of the table. We muttered our thanks, receiving a grunt in reply.

Irene started eating without hesitation, slicing through her pancakes with precision. I took a sip from my milkshake and raised my eyebrows at it.

"Good, right?" She said with a mouthful of food.

I nodded and dipped some of my fries into the ketchup before eating it. I wasn't surprised when she brought me to Moe's Diner. We always passed by it whenever we were on our way back to the flat; one of the many places she's been dying to visit in New York.

A few patrons were haphazardly scattered around the restaurant despite the early hour. Some were fixed on their laptops, the lack of sleep visible from the dark rims around their eyes. Others reeked of alcohol with its scent easily filling the restaurant.

However, it didn't stop Irene from enjoying the rueful atmosphere. She didn't care much, a trait we often shared.

Chimes sounded from the door, an announcement of arrival. We didn't bother looking up as I moved the metal tissue box and positioned it to reflect the two blurry figures that moved past us and to the corner of the diner.