Experiment Scarecrow

Chapter 4

The familiar, repetitive blare of the alarm echoed throughout the bedroom at exactly eight o'clock. The same time as always. Brooke's eyes slowly fluttered open, flicking to the irritating object to reach over and smack its snooze button.

Instead of rising from bed as usual, she decided to remain tucked under the comfort of the covers. Slowly, she began to pull her hand away to ease back under, only to pause at the sight of her phone laying on the nightstand; her hand now hovering over the blank screen.

She frowned, shifting onto her side underneath the pink, white-dotted covers to slide the phone closer to her; the sun's gentle, morning rays filtering through her window, forming a harsh glare on the black screen. Squinting her eyes, she finally pulled it off the surface, flicking up the screen to unlock it before scrolling through her contacts list, finding Olivia's profile.

Brooke tapped on the name, although felt a sudden hesitation pulling her back--leaving her finger lingering over the call button. Forcing down the guilt-ridden hesitation, her eyes squeezed shut before letting her finger fall onto the button.

The phone chimed before fading into the familiar low, modulating tone, calling Olivia. She forced herself to finally sit up, pressing the phone close to her ear as it continued to buzz until her friend finally picked up.

"Hello...?" a groggy, nearly aching, voice answered.

"Hey, Olivia. How are you feeling?" she asked softly, a hint of guilt still lingering in her tone.

A moment of silence followed as Olivia readjusted in the background; the soft fabric of a blanket rubbing against her before the quiet squeak of a couch cushion followed, before she finally answered.

"Not great. I feel like ass actually. I almost got my entire arm cut off, and now I'm on all these pain meds." Another paused followed momentarily before she hit her with an immediate question. 

"Brooke, be honest. Did you lie to your mom about what happened?"

Brooke's eyes widened--causing the lingering guilt to settle at the bottom of her stomach in a sickening wrench.

She knew. 

That meant Olivia's mother, or possibly the doctor, must have told her what she had said happened.

The guilt continued to twist inside her empty stomach, elongating the silence as it sucked her into her own thoughts.

"Hello?  Brooke? Are you still there?"

"I-Yeah. Sorry." She shook the thoughts away, returning to the painful reality. "Um-I did lie..." she finally admitted, knowing there was no possible way around it.

A disappointed sigh escaped Olivia on the other end, echoing in her eardrum. "Why? I have pictures of him now. We have evidence."

"Be-Because!" Brooke stuttered, the sorrow-filled expression, of the stitched man, filling her thoughts. "We-We can't let anyone know he's real just yet. A-Actually, I've been thinking about it too. Maybe it's best if he remains a legend, you know? My mom said that it serves as a scaring tactic to protect teenagers..."

An unconvinced silence emanated from Olivia's end in response, replacing the image of the creature, in her mind, with her friend's slow blinking, apathetic look.

"Ok, well, and I would like to collect more evidence before we just make those pictures public," she added.

"Are you kidding me? We almost got killed and you want to go back to 'collect more evidence?' What more evidence is there to collect? What are you going to do? Go up and ask him with a notebook and pen in hand, 'Tell me, when did your urge to kill people begin? Just tell me your story.' I don't think so," Olivia growled.