It's Saturday, a few days after my secret dinner with Greyson and I'm in complete distress. I've been to a million different Walmarts and a million different stores and still haven't found a single wooden bat! My Harley Quinn costume won't be complete without the iconic bat and I refuse to go without it.
Oh, it's also Halloween.
And the place I won't be going is the hugest Halloween party of the school year. If you hadn't noticed, it's today!
I spent most of the day in bed, talking with Mya and scrolling on TikTok, completely procrastinating. Now I deeply regret it because there isn't a store that I haven't checked with a freaking baseball bat.
It's a long shot but it's worth asking dickface if he has one. He literally played every sport as a kid so hopefully he has one just...lying around?
Me: Hey do you have a wooden baseball bat?
Unknown:What? Are you trying to kill somebody? XD
Me: If I were I'd ask for a metal 1. ;)
Me: Seriously do you?
Unknown: Yeah. There's one in the utility closet next to the bathroom.
Unknown: I'll be busy party prepping with Kev and J all day. There's a spare key under the soil of the third plant.
Me: How do you know I won't snoop around in your room?
Unknown: I don't care. Just...don't touch any socks lying around. x
Gross.
***
It's a good thing that Mya decided to stay at my place to alter her outfit because there is no way in hell I'd be able to get this bat from Greyson's without having to explain, well everything.
I stop at the front door and see the five little plant pots I always see when I'm here. I bend down to pick up the third one and I lightly pull on the plant lifting it up from the pot.
This one is different from the others, instead of a soil filled pot, there is a plate with a thin layer of soil. It makes the plant look like any other when there's only dirt at the surface. The spare key is inside atop of a few pebbles for weight. I place everything back perfectly and unlock the door to Greyson's home.
It feels weird to be here without him, eerie and lonely even. I try not to think about it too much though. This is going to be a swift mission.
Grab the bat and get out.
I head straight for the closet next to the bathroom that I somehow never noticed. I try to pull the door open but it doesn't budge. I pull a lot harder a second time in hopes of opening it. Dammit. I need some sort of tool like a crowbar. There should be one in the utili-.
Never mind.
Desperate to find the bat in time, I pull and twist the knob with all my might until it flies open, a bunch of empty pill bottles in tow. Shock is my initial reaction. I mean obviously because I didn't expect the door to open, let alone with objects hurling at me. Curiosity slowly creeps it's way up my mind as I pick up and read the empty containers.
They're various medications all prescribed to David Reynolds. Buprenorphine, naltrexone, mirtazapine, the list goes on and on. I don't even have to wreck my brain to know what these are for.
These are all opioids for drug addicts.
These are usually prescribed during rehab to help with withdrawal symptoms, but still very dangerous. Things can either go one of three ways when it's this serious. The addict gets better, they don't take any and relapse, or they abuse the medication and die from overdosage.
What scares me even more is the amount of full pill bottles there are thrown everywhere in the closet. Has he not been taking them? Or was he taking too much? I now feel like the door was difficult to open on purpose.
It suddenly makes me realize that of all the times I've been here, I've never ran into Mr. Reynolds. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I've even seen him.
What the fuck?
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عاطفية"What the hell do you want Greyson?" I shout unlocking the door. It's raining heavily so I don't even bother hiding the irritation laced in my voice. I swing the door open about to continue my rant when I'm brought to a halt by his lips crashing dow...
