𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉

[Chapter 6] The Jacket

You have got to be kidding me.

My eyebrows slowly raise and my mouth drops open as I slowly pull my car up to my Mom's house. Or what's left of it.

To be clear, when I left this morning---it was clean, neat and Anna was coming to start her shift of making it even more clean and neat.

That was this morning. Tonight, however...tonight, I am going to murder my brother.

I sit in my car, helplessly watching out my window as countless drunk teenagers traipse through Mom's prized flowerbeds while others busy themselves with tossing rolls of toilet paper up into the trees.

Some house, the sounds of shouting and screaming can still be heard over the nauseatingly loud music blaring.

Why am I not even surprised? I drive home again, just hopefully see Hunter and talk some sense into him and this is what I'm greeted with.

While my first instinct is to call the cops, I decide to spare Mom the inconvenience and heartache of bailing her son out of jail and instead decide, I can handle this myself.

I park the car and after double checking to lock the doors behind me, I start the familiar path up the long driveway---careful to avoid the splotches of what I assume to be shaving cream and silly string.

While doing my best to avoid eye contact with most of the people milling around the front lawn, I also find myself attempting to take a census...because, seriously? Who even is coming to a house party hosted by Hunter Blake?

I don't recognize half of the people here, meaning they're probably mostly kids from Westwood---or y'know, Hunter's just picking up randos off the street (which is totally possible).

I straighten my jacket some, probably giving myself a false sense of security as I attempt to calm my nerves and growing temper.

Of all of the reckless, rebellious and immature things he could possibly do---this is what he does the first school night of the semester?

A random football flies past my head causing me to jump in surprise.

"Hey, bitch---MOVE." some random guy hollers at me in annoyance as if I'm somehow the problem in this scenario.

I spare a glance of disgust but beyond that, I decide not to engage.

Finally making it up to the front door, my anxiety is through the roof because despite how bad it is out here, I know it has to be worse inside.
The music has only gotten louder the closer I get and when I try to open the door, it doesn't budge. It's locked? Really?Wasting no time, I bang my fist against the door---planning out just what exactly I'm going to say to Hunter when I find him. I don't cuss but believe me, if I did---there would be plenty of choice words.

"Hello?! Open the door!" I demand, continually knocking to the point my knuckles feel sore.

Finally, after what feels like forever, some random brunette opens the door and I can't help but notice from the jump that she is clearly plastered. "Hellooo?" she slurs and I side eye her lack of appropriate clothing. "Um."

"Who the heck are you?" she asks, tilting her head with squinted eyes.

My auto-polite, as I like to call it, almost kicks in but I remind myself that this is not the place for formalities, introductions or basic manners.

"I live here," I say as dully as I can instead, not answering her question but also kind of not caring.

Walking past her, I mutter a 'thank-you' for letting me inside because I can't help myself.