𝘈𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘴 ➳𝘚.𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪
Griffin Dunbar was under the impression that he would peak in high school, and he was alright with that. But when his usual carefree attitude is challenged by monsters and boss fights, he starts to worry.
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➺
Griffin got home late, as usual. He kicked the door shut with a loud thud, walking towards the kitchen. His keys landed harshly onto the table and his backpack to the floor. Griffin peaked his head towards the living room at the sound of his younger brother, Liam. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, the clicking of controller echoing throughout the space.
Griffin grimaced, "calm down, you're gonna break the damn controller." Liam didn't spare him a glance, scoffing lightly while shaking his head.
"It's only minecraft, if you think this is bad obviously you've no idea what I'm capable of." Griffin smiled and rolled his eyes, he walked over and made himself comfortable on the couch. He tried to distract himself by texting his friends, but the aggressive thudding of Liam's fingers against the buttons pounded in his head.
"Liam, I'm not fucking around, I'll throw that thing across the room if you don't stop trying to fucking break it in half." Liam threw the controller at Griffin's head, laughing as he held his palm to where a bruise was already forming on his temple.
"You're a pain in the ass."
"Love you too," he picked the controller off of the floor and continued with his game. Griffin rolled off the couch and stumbled up the stairs to his room, suddenly anxious to go to bed and sleep after a long day. But as he walked through the doorway, the fatigue became overwhelming. His knees buckling and his shoulder slammed into the wall.
'What the fuck?'
He barely staggered to his bed without face planting into the floor, he didn't have time to pull back the covers before his eyes glued shut.
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It was cold, too cold. Griffin felt wind lash against his bare skin, he lifted his head up, confused. Suddenly he wasn't in his bedroom, and he felt his legs and arms pop painfully at every small movement. His jaw clenched and he grunted with effort as he shakily pulled himself to his feet.
His head whipped back and forth, stumbling cluelessly around on a deserted beach. Beacon Hills was at least two hours away from the closest beach.
His heart beat against his chest, his shirt was gone and a large, winding gash sliced across his torso. Phone. Where was his phone?
Three yards away from him Griffin could faintly see the black object against the stark white sand. He stumbled to it, greedily picking it up and flipping it open. Dead. Of course it was dead. He shoved it into the pocket of his shorts, looking down to see the damage done to his body. He traced a finger along the divot, hissing in pain as blood dripped from its end. It had to barely be morning, the sky light shades of yellow, orange, and blue.
He was breathing fast, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. Griffin couldn't tell if it was from the pain or the stress.
A thin layer of sweat coated his body as he wobbled away from the ocean, the road was nearly empty. But the few people that were up looked at the teen, concerned by the hand gripped against his torso. The look on his face must have kept them away, he dug into his pocket looking for anything that might help him.
'Well, isn't this my lucky day?'
Slowly coming out of shock, Griffin realized he could get on the first bus home thanks to the crisp twenty dollar bill he now gripped tightly in his hand. But first he needed food, desperately.
The beach almost immediately gave way to the city. It was quiet, but Griffin knew it wouldn't last long. Already he could hear the sound of a man across the street talking harshly into his phone, and the revving of an engine, but he couldn't see where it was coming from.
Ευχαριστώ
Griffin whipped his head back, 'You're losing it, Griffin.' He wanted to stop, lie down in the middle of the road without having to worry about getting up again. But his instincts were kicking in, and he could have sworn that he could feel his wound start to fester. Finally, he saw a target nearby, he almost cried.
Target was for rich people, he knew that well enough, so he'd have to lay low to avoid suspicion and getting the cops called on him. His mom and David wouldn't be too happy about that, Liam would probably think he was cool as fuck, though. When the doors opened for him, Griffin shot across the store as soon as he saw a shirt on an oddly jacked mannequin. He wasn't usually one for stealing, but when Griffin saw the price tag on a plain green shirt, he ripped off the tag with out a thought and threw it on.
Did they have cameras in target?
After finally having something covering his wound, Griffin felt less self conscious, but was still hyper aware of the blood trickling down his stomachs every time he took a step.
It took him awhile to find any sort of food, but when he did he felt like he was in heaven. He took a beef stick, a Dr. Pepper, and a box of mike n Ike's, it was times like these that Griffin was grateful for America's proportions.
Now the sun was fully up, the streets started to fill, and Griffin somehow found his way to the bus station. His ride back to Beacon Hills would arrive in two and a half hours, the ticket cost leaving him with two dollars to survive on until he got home. Fatigue started to ebb at his mind again, but now no matter how hard he wanted to give way to peaceful sleep, he wouldn't trust himself.
