𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊, 𝐫. 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝒔 𝒄 𝒓 𝒆 𝒂 𝒎

You groaned as the blare of the phone pulled you from your nap, one that was well earned after your cramming session the night before.

You sat up and grabbed the phone, holding it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you groggily asked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Hello, (y/n)," a man with a voice changer greeted from the other side.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, tired. 

That was the eleventh call that week.

"Yes?" you groaned.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" the person asked.

"Who is this?" you asked, looking down at your nails.

"You tell me."

You leaned over to the nightstand, grabbing the phone charger and pulling it into your lap, "Cory Gillis, 555-0176."

"Oh, shit!" Cory exclaimed from the other side, the voice changer long gone.

"Hot flash, Cory. Crank calls are a criminal offense prosecuted under penal code 653-M-" the dial tone interrupted your speech and you sighed, hanging the phone up.

"Hope you enjoyed the movie."

"Look at you, putting that law major to work," Hallie smiled as she walked over, leaning against the wall. 

"We gotta change numbers again?" Sidney groaned as she walked out the bathroom, her words muffled by the toothbrush and toothpaste in her mouth.

"No. It'll die off. It's opening weekend. We'll see how it goes," you shrugged, standing up and stretching your back.

"Okay," Hallie nodded, walking over to the TV and turning it on.

"You know, Ron, it's not an easy thing to be accused of a crime you didn't commit, particularly one as heinous as murder," Cotton Weary spoke on the screen, attending yet another interview.

"But how do people treat you now that they know the truth about your innocence?" Ron asked.

"Most people are cool. There's some who still keep a safe distance, which is odd for me, 'cause I've always been sort of a people person," Cotton answered, shrugging.

"But you were wrongly accused! You were fully exonerated," Ron gaslit, leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah, well, that and a nickel will get you a cup of coffee. Even that's not true anymore," Cotton smiled.

You looked back at Sid and saw her eyes were glued to the TV, her stone cold thinking expression on.

"He really is milking the shit out of this, huh," you scoffed, turning it off and and flashing her a light-hearted smile.