Bittersweet | Ticci Toby

4 || ❝𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝!❞

You dash towards the kitchen, and he follows suit. How you were going to blow him up is the real question now. 'The gas tank.. gas.. how do I access it?' Quickly and with movements as precise as a person's with Parkinson's disease, you turn the stove's burner on. 'Okayokay OKAY, now I need to-'

A harsh tug of your hair interrupts your train of thought. Goggle Boy has grabbed a fistful of your hair and is jerking your head left and right, looking irritated. The immediate pain really took you by surprise, and with a yelp, you clawed at his hand.

"Didn't your puhh-pah-parents teach you nuh-not to play with fire?" He inquires and brings your head closer to the illuminating blue flame on the stove.

Instinctively, you turn your head to the side and slam your hands on the sides of the stove to stop him from pushing your head down any further. The scorching heat makes your face feel like it's being dipped in acid, and you move your head frantically to get away from it.

"Should I just go ahead and buh-burn your phh-pretty face, huh?" The male bends over to look at you, laughing as he notices a burn mark forming on your cheek.

"Go to hell," you spat.

Filling your lungs with as much air as possible, you close your eyes and face the stove's fire, blowing it out.

The brown-haired male blinks and remains silent for awhile.

"Smart cookie, I've guh-got to give you thhh-that." You ignore him, and without him noticing, you turn the stove knob all the way to the max to let out as much gas as possible. He shoves you away from him, making you land on your ass on the freezing kitchen tiles. All the previous blood loss was making you dizzy, and losing consciousness was not an option. With wobbly legs, you sit up.

"That's all? Ruh-really? C'mon, puh-puh, put up a better fight," he giggles, and as on cue, your face contorts into a painful expression as you once again move your legs to get away from him. He doesn't even bother chasing after you anymore; your slow movements seemed pitiful.

You had an open kitchen, so you instantly ran back to the living room and stared at him from next to the couch.

'He has a gas mask; he won't notice, right?' You think to yourself.

"Whatcha thinking abb-abuh-about?" A twitch of his neck catches your attention as he leans against the kitchen counter.

"You." He seems to have dropped his guard, so you do the same.

His eyebrows raise, and he lets out an annoying, high-pitched laugh. Your answer seems hilarious to him. "I'm fluh-flattered! but you're not really my tuh-type."

All the fakeness in his movements was repulsive. He seemed weirdly confident and awkward at the same time, with his hunched position and the haunting hatchet in his hand. You needed to buy time and a lot.

"You know very well what I meant by that," you respond, rolling your eyes in frustration.

He let out a single nasal chuckle. "Did you ju-just roll yuh-your eyes a-at me?"



How long was this going to take? Surely there's enough gas by now, right?


Your eyes keep moving from the stove to him, then back to the stove, then back ahimthentothestove, thenbacktothe-.



THUNK!

The loud noise snaps you back to reality, and you glance behind you, where a hatchet is now buried into the wall.

"I don't laah-lah-like being ignored, y'know?" The male chirps with a hint of annoyance.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that would hurt your feelings," you respond sarcastically.

He clicks his tongue.

"What hah-hap-happed here? I don't remember duh-doing tha-that." Casually, he changes the subject and points with his hatchet at the dead bodies. Suddenly, you don't feel like entertaining him anymore as tonight's prior events flash through your mind.

"None of your business." You bark, walking backwards towards the hatchet on the wall. Using both of your arms, you pull it from the wall and stare at the messed-up tapestry.

'Aww, man, I really liked that design.'


The hooded male whines in response and exaggeratedly throws his head back in annoyance.

"Nuh-none of that works, ohmyGOD! Juh-just give up already! Haven't you noticed that I cuh-can't feel puhhh-pah-pain?"

"You got CIPA? Damn, that's tough." Absolutely no interest or sympathy was behind that sentence.


Done with his shit, you swing your arm back and throw the hatchet with full force at the light switch on the wall, creating a spark.

As quick as you can, you duck behind the couch.






B O O M!



Smoke and flames burst through the air, shattering glass and sending splinters flying in every direction. A wave of heat followed, blasting the interior with a blast of intense heat. The walls cracked and started to crumble, while burning debris fell from the ceiling and landed on the ground. The kitchen was in a state of mayhem; all the equipment, such as ovens, sinks, and fridges, was blown out; many were covered with soot, while others were burning wildly.

The deafening sound of an explosion echoes through the neighborhood. Your ears are ringing violently, and hot blood is oozing out of them.

The sting from you biting your own cheek is keeping you mentally anchored as you try your best to calm down. Trying to find your way through all of the flames and smoke, you stumble and trip on something. You look down at your feet to see one of your friends's corpses burning away.

Not having enough energy to scream anymore, you slowly crawl away to the back door and exit your house.

You escaped.