Ruined: A Twisted lost Boys fanfiction

Chapter 4:

"Well, I suppose I should say thank you for walking me home, shouldn't I?" she said, glancing over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and nudged it open with her foot. "you could invite me in" as a thank you sugar he flirted biting his bottom lip as she scoffed and rolled her eye at him.

She actually laughed at that. "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Why not?" he pressed.

"Because, firstly, you're my dealer, secondly, my place is a mess, and thirdly, I don't invite people in."

"I'm not just your dealer," Paul assert. "Yes, you are," she retorts. "I thought we were friends." "Perhaps in another lifetime, we could be friends, but I'm not killing my self  anytime soon. So, for the moment, you remain my dealer." Her words were dark and cold; she smiled as she spoke them. kill her self This caused the other three to tilt their heads as they watched her and Paul playfully argue.

harsh with your words Paul chimed.

in my view, that's not harsh; it's actually quite kind. She scoffed once more before stepping into the house. She rolled her eyes upon realizing they were all still there. She attempted to close the door, but he wedged his foot in, prompting her to look up and glare at him seriously. move your fucking foot now before I break it.

"Not until you invite me in, sugar," he said with a grin as she rolled her eyes. "Seriously, man, why are you doing this to me? You give me such a headache." Finally, she relented. "Fine, get in," she muttered, walking through the house as the others entered. The brunette quietly closed the door while the other three followed her into the living room. They watched as she slouched in the center, arched her back, and continued. To roll in silence and darkness.

The platinum blonde surveyed the disarray, taking in the chaos of the room. Punch marks marred the walls, shards of glass littered the floor, and men's clothing was strewn about haphazardly. She wore a blank expression on her face as she grinded the weed, As they enjoyed the cassoulet, Paul sat next to her in the dim light, while the other two took their places on the adjacent sofa. The platinum blonde then stood up and surveyed the room.

The air was brisk and cold. Beer and vodka bottles were strewn across the floor and tables. There must've been about 100 different alcohol bottles ashtrays with all the sofa was torn blood was scattered on the white creamy sofa. It was old and dried. There was needles in the corner in a bag old baggies Remanence of white powder on the coffee table, and even some. In a Ziploc bag.

"Didn't know you were into the harder stuff," Paul noticed. As he gestured towards the coke and other items, she merely laughed and shook her head, finishing her task and placing the joint joint She placed it between her lips, flicked the lighter, inhaled briefly, and smiled as the... weed went She inhaled deeply into her lungs and exhaled through her nose like a dragon.

"No, it's not mine," she replied, taking another drag and resting her head on the sofa, slumping back with a smile and a giggly expression. "Whose is it this time?" someone else spoke. She glanced at a boy with curly hair, donning a colourful jacket. She thought for a moment, then responded to him, "It's my older brother's coke, not mine."

"Where is he then? "Dead," she replied bluntly, devoid of emotion, continuing to smoke as a shield against her inner pain and trauma.

"What about your parents?" asked the platinum blonde as he glanced at her while lighting a cigarette. "Why does it matter?" she sighed, passing the joint to Paul, who thanked her and inquired where she was headed. She said nothing, stood up, stretched, and strolled into the kitchen. She then opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle. of mixed vodka and She glanced at the cola and remembered it was the last thing her older brother had before he overdosed. She laughed at the dark thought and returned to sitting on the sofa. Not wandering around, she jumped on it, slouched back, opened the alcohol, took a sip, closed her eyes, and stayed quiet.

"I can feel you staring at me," she muttered. "You never answered my question: where are your parents?" the Plenum blond pressed again, becoming curious about the girl and her past.

"Dead," she repeated, taking another swig, feeling the alcohol burn her throat, yet she could endure the pain.

what so... stop with the 21 fucking questions aright I don't wanna think so respectfully shup up Frustrated, she hissed and rolled her eyes, pondering over it once more. "Damn it, why can't I just forget about it?" she cursed under her breath.

"Is that your parents and siblings?" Katherina Paul inquired as he stood and walked towards a photo of a blonde woman smiling, with a man holding her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. Three children stood in front of the adults, all smiling and embracing one another against the backdrop of a beach, clad in summer clothes and radiating happiness. He walked back to her and observed as her eyes widened for a moment. She touched it, and her bottom lip began to quiver. The urge to cry overcame her as she gazed at her mother's face, then her father's. On that day, her birthday, she turned eight years old. It was a joyful day, one she had thought about, but then she felt the pain creeping in as she gazed at her younger self. She was clad in a pretty summer dress, her hair braided, her face beaming. Her skin was clear and vibrant, with her mother's hand resting on her shoulder, smiling down at her with love and care, as did her older brother and sister. She was smiling sweetly, her teeth visible in a bright, happy expression, one that she could no longer possess. Overwhelmed with anger, she bit her bottom lip and, without glancing back, she violently threw it against the kitchen wall. She remained silent as she relit the joint, her mind screaming and yelling internally. Tears fought their way through, but externally, she maintained a blank expression, simply puffing away in silence.

"Going to take that as a yes," Paul mumbled, downing the rest of the vodka. She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, and coughed. Closing her eyes, she tugged at her hair, unable to rid herself of her parents' and older siblings' expressions that tormented her endlessly.

fucking hell she mumbled to her self.