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"you're going to make it. it'll be hard but you're going to make it." -anonymous
song to listen to: the way by zack hemsey
warnings: swearing, panic/anxiety, arguments, drug mentions,
(we're so close to chaos)
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We relatively mindlessly followed Cindy into the infirmary, me sticking with Tommy as she advanced into the wooden building. I played with a silver locket around my neck and seeing as that the uneasy feeling in my stomach hadn't gone away yet, something had to calm me down. If it wasn't words of affirmation from Tommy, then it would have to be some fidgeting technique of my own accord.
"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Tommy asked as he closed the door behind us, and Cindy turned in our direction.
"Answers." She dropped the keys in Tommy's hands.
"Cindy, no, please, God, no." I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated with her reply.
"Come on, Cindy. It doesn't matter, alright?" Even Tommy was on my side with this one-it's an outnumbered thing right now.
"It matters." She stated with a strained 'confident' voice. "There's a reason Mary did what she did and said what she said and we're going to figure it out. Right now."
"Come on, Cindy," Tommy continued to beg as my head found its resting spot in my hands. "Please, I-"
And she started to walk to Nurse Mary's office, and I leaned my head on Tommy's shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze before both of us walked towards our perfectionist of a girlfriend. Cindy was going through all the draws, trying to find these answers she so desperately wanted. For sure, I wanted answers too, but I didn't want to dwell on this right now. Right now, I wanted to have a normal night. But apparently, Cindy didn't want that and didn't seem to care that neither Tommy nor myself wanted to be doing this right now.
"Ha," Cindy chuckled, holding a pill bottle up. "No label, half empty. Like I said, she was on drugs. We just have to get these to the cops then they'll tell us what they..." She stopped talking and looked at Tommy, a mix of disgust and confusion upon her face as he picked up some old-looking book.
With his head tilted to the side, I took a step closer to look at the book myself. It'd been open to a set of pages right in the middle, all of which looked worn and town. It looked creepy, to say the least, which is exactly the type of thing you'd want to see when looking to find the reason why a killer's mother attacked you earlier that day. Best fucking birthday ever.
