So On

Chapter 15 - I Never Knew Potatoes Were Bipolar

     After what happened tonight, I am not going out alone again. Ever. I'm still freaked out. When I told the guys what happened, they said I was just being paranoid.

     But tell me, what the hell were those staggering guys following me? Huh? Huh? Well, only I knew the answer to that.

     Aliens.

       "They're probably drunk dudes coming from a party," Leo sighed while making himself comfortable on our couch. We were currently in the living room of our apartment.

       "Or they're injured from a fight," Nichole suggested.

       "Or they just wanted to pull a prank on you since you looked so scared?"

       "Or," I decided to represent my own theory as the victim of the incident. "They just wanted to rape me, kill me then sell my internal organs to other countries?" I said, pushing their suggestions away while firmly holding to my own ridiculous belief. Nichole and Leo were this close to banging their heads on the wall.

     I know I sounded crazy, but haven't they seen the news these days? People are so evil. It's not my fault I think every person I meet on the streets late at night are psychopaths - staggering or not.

     Leo seemed to give up, hence raising his hands in surrender and sighing profusely. He pointed at Brandon, who remained quiet the whole time and then pointed at me, who was doing the exact opposite.

     I hated it when people point fingers. I want to break those damn rude fingers.

       "She's tired. She's sleep-talking. She always does that. You, take her to her room and tuck her in," he commanded as if he was the chief of a tribe.

     Okay, the tribe thing was not a very good reference, but it's funny since I'm using it on Leo. Leave it.

       "I'm not asleep and I'm not a child. I can tuck myself in," I scoffed, standing up and preparing to leave.

     I already regained my strength. Do they think I'm really weak or something?

       "Just do what he says Mira," Nichole said, sounding exhausted yet relieved. I just noticed how pink her eyelids were, and her eyes were slightly reddish, as if she'd been crying. My heart sunk in my chest. I made my best friend worry so much, and here I am spouting my ridiculous theories.

     I obediently nodded as Brandon went ahead to my room, not sparing me a glance whatsoever. He's been quiet the whole time. Is he still mad? I'm sure he's mad. And I'm afraid of what an angry potato might do.

     When we got in my room, I left the door open and tried my best to act casual. On my way to my drawers, I heard Brandon close the door. I gulped.

     I took off my shoes and changed into my pyjamas, he turned around so I could do so.

     When I was through, I slid in my covers and pulled them up to my face until only my eyes were visible. I'm so scared. What'll he do? He's so quiet it's terrifying.

     Staring at his back, I saw him take a deep breath and heave a long sigh before turning around again. I unconsciously concealed my whole face with my blanket. Shit.

     I'm dead.

     I heard his footsteps moving toward me, and I had to calm down my rapid heartbeats. I have to pretend I'm sleeping. I'll snore. I'm good at fake-snoring.

     But I just got in my bed. There's no way he'd believe I fell asleep that fast. Cry.

     I felt him halt in his steps. I stifled a gulp. What was he doing? And why am I so afraid of what he might do? What the heck? This isn't like me at all. Me? The girl who isn't afraid of fighting a group of men twice her size, is afraid of a potato who can't even stand spicy food and is a complete chicken toward horror films?