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'1980s Horror Film II' -Wallows ╳ She walked me back Into her room But just to see A 1980s horror film❞
╳ September 25th, 1983 6:30pm
"No, I really don't drink, sorry." I politely declined his offer.
"Well, why don't you stay and have a chat, yes?" He smiled up to me, hands clasped together. Before a word could escape my mouth, Will was already shouting across the house.
"Lora! Bring me the Bourbon and a glass of-" he stopped. "What would you prefer?"
"I- er, a water is fine."
"-and a water!" He finished his statement, leaning back into the couch in the living room, the fireplace crackling.
A few moments later, the older woman brought in the two drinks, setting them down on the wooden side table. Will appeared irritated.
"Where's the bottle?" He asked, a small frown appearing on his face.
Lora sighed, a small frown appearing on her face. "I really don't think you sh-" her soft words were cut off in almost an instant.
"Bring me the bottle, Lora. Don't make me repeat myself." He sighs in an irritated manner, picking his glass up before taking a swig.
His mood completely changes, a smile forming on his face after taking a drink. "Whew! That bourbon really does hit the spot, eh?"
"I wouldn't know." I scoffed. Will raised an eyebrow towards me, a slightly curious expression formed on his face.
He held out his glass. "Try it."
"I really don't drink, sorry." I let a laugh escape my lips, my arms crossed. His eyes never left me.
Lora strides into the living room, reluctantly letting the bottle of Bourbon slip into the hands of her husband. Her tired eyes plead for me to leave for my own sake.
Her eyes flicker to her husband, who was filling his glass back up with the alcoholic beverage. She sighs before speaking up. "Please don't drink too much."
"I can do whatever the hell I want, alright?" His annoyed manner was painfully obvious. I felt a pang of sorry for Lora, her face completely unfazed of her husband's behavior.
Lora sighs before turning her back to leave the living room, leaving me with her husband.
I shifted on the couch, Will on the other end of the piece of furniture. His cold eyes bore into me.
His demeanor is stressful, commanding even. He is a rather intimidating man on multiple levels.
I stood up, my glass in hand. "Would you mind if I went and got something else to drink maybe?"
"Oh no, not at all." He smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." He sipped his glass.
I strode to the kitchen, the black and white tiles reminding me of Fredbear's minus the confetti everywhere.
I glanced around the kitchen, understanding completely that my time is very limited. My eyes focus on the wooden knife-holder that sat comfortably out in the open on the marble countertop.
I carefully slide one of the smaller knives out of the holsters, wincing at the small hiss that sounded as I pulled the utensil out.
I whipped my head around, hiding the kitchen knife behind me as footsteps came into my field of hearing.
A child.
His small eyes looked up at me, a look of confusion appearing. His striped black and grey shirt slightly too big on his small stature.
"Could I.. um-.. could I get a water, please?" His shy voice muttered out.
I heard a groan from the living room. "Dammit, Joseph!" The slight creaking sound of the grown male lifting himself off of the couch was enough for me to swiftly put the knife back, not caring if the child saw me or not.
My head whipped to presumably Joseph, putting a finger to my lips, quietly whispering a 'shh'. The child stayed quiet, looking over at his father as he entered the kitchen.
"It's fine, Will." I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water before handing it to Joseph.
The child hurried away, not wanting to be in the middle of anything. My eyes followed him until he disappeared upstairs.
