Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Tabitha woke up with a heavy head and bashed up body. Covered in odd scratches and blackened bruises working their way up her exposed legs to her thigh, random purples dots and spots on her shoulders and arms. Tabitha certainly knew that last night, despite her hopes of staying down low, was absolute mayhem. Of course, she could remember bits and pieces to the noisy night — flashing lights unveiling flooded and flushed bodies, blaring music, clammy hands catching onto the clouds in the night sky, the majority of the participants drunken down with a doped up mind, whilst less of the lot observed on the sidelines.
Tabitha unconsciously smiled at the modern memories of her new-found... home? Well, this wasn't home. She'd been barely 78 hours and she had already settled in, but Tabitha knew she could not stay in this single spot for too long.
Her father was a well-known man with connections all over, by now he surely would've made a call or two in faux-hope for his daughters return.
Tabitha knew, deep down in her twisted gut, that she had over one hundred unread messages waiting to opened. From her poor mother, so ill and frail so her brother most likely had to be tapping away at the keys, random tweets searching for a missing girl in Liverpool area, and then her dearest father. Tabitha assumed there were no worrisome words written within the message, or even a comment of concern, just plain, demanding and dry. It's all she could expect, for her father was a fool for money and that's all okay as left in her cold heart, no ounce of love for his children nor his poorly wife, merely the heaps of hundreds stacked up securely in safe.
Cyril was sleeping soundly by her feet, loud and heavy he was breathing, but peaceful and sound as a baby he slept.
"Uh—hey," came a voice from the other side of the door. "Your phone... it's going crazy, everything okay?"
Slowly, the battered down door creaked ajar and out popped Pope, grinning awkwardly with pink painted cheeks. With his snap back beaten hat and forest green unbuttoned shirt, he called;
