Disappeared [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 13

Dylan's POV
"What the hell, Dylan?! You've been acting weird since Halloween, what's wrong with you?" Molly jumped up from her seat, as my cup of water tipped over.
"I'll be back with some napkins," I muttered, standing up and ambling over to the kitchen. I pushed the swinging door open, and scanned the contents of the counter. As I reached out for the napkin dispenser, a hand appeared out of thin air it seemed, and latched onto my wrist. Soon, one of the kitchen help popped up from behind the dusty counter, hand still squeezing the hell out of my arm.
"Oh shit--" I jerked my hand away from the demented lady. The old women had bright red hair that flew in all directions even with the hairnet attempting to tame it, her icy blue eyes were gigantic and sunk into her face like she hadn't had food or sleep in a good month. There were rumors that the kitchen help hung a bit on the crazy side from living in Blackstone for the past 50 years, but I never really noticed them until now.
"You tryin to steal our hard earned money boy?" She hissed. I could've sworn I saw her tongue flicker, like she was tasting the air for fear or something.
"No," I cleared my throat,
"I just wanted a couple napkins."

Suddenly, her twisted hand snapped out and grabbed my face, pulling me uncomfortably close to her. Her eye twitched as she looked me over like I was scurrying prey.
"Well, I'll be darned," She whispered, blue eyes even wider if that was possible,
"It is you, ain't it? Dylan Sprayberry."
I stepped out of grabbing range and nodded slowly.
"How do you know me?" The lady let out this crazed laugh and smiled toothlessly at me,
"I'm Martha, Martha Worths. I cooked for your father, and now I got the opportunity to cook for you twice."
I felt my face crumple at the mention of my father, as if I weren't already in a bad mood.
"Sorry, I don't remember you, Miss Worths." I grabbed a handful of napkins, and spun on my heels in the direction of the still swinging door.
"You look troubled, sunny," Martha called after me,
"why don't you come sit and talk to me a while?"

I let out this internal sigh, why would I want to spend any more time with another crazy person? I turned my head, and stared into her eyes. She looked lonely, and crazy. What if I turned into someone like her? Standing in a kitchen heating processed food and seeing things that aren't even there?
"I reckon I can help you out, I'm a good listener." Martha gestured to the stool sitting across from her, and glanced around suspiciously.
"Mary and June are out back smoking them dirty cigarette's, no one will hear but me." She assured me confidently, as I dropped the napkins in a pile beside me, giving up on going back to the lunch table. I still wasn't sure if Mary and June were imaginary or not, but I didn't bother to have her clarify.
I sat on the stool, still looking down at Martha.
"Now what's putting that glare in your eyes, Mr. Sprayberry?" Martha asked, beginning to wipe down the counter with a dish cloth.
"I guess i'm just tired," I shrugged uselessly,
"of everything."
"Everyone get's tired, Mr. Sprayberry . You just gotta deal with it sometimes. What is this 'everything' you're talking about?" She replied, waving her head around, red curls flying everywhere.
"I have a girlfriend, no--" I shook my head,
"had a girlfriend. And I really miss her." Martha made a face,
"You're moping around here like a lost puppy because of a girl? Just go see her, if you miss her all that bad."
"Its not that simple," I whispered, "I can't go see her. I'd just be hurting her even more if I did. I'm not cut out for caring for people, obviously. I'm here."
Martha slammed down a salt shaker, "Boy! Now that ain't right, what you're saying. You look like you gotta a whole lot of sense, now why ain't you using it? If you weren't cut out for caring for people like you say, then why don't I see horns and fangs growing outta you? Cause you're human, that's why." I opened my mouth to object, but she kept talking.
"Just cause you're here doesn't mean a thing, neither. There's a lot of kids out there who have no business being behind bars. They just get caught up in their head, think their all bad because of one or two mistakes."
"No offense ma'am, but you don't know me." I replied, rolling my shoulders back and forth uncertainly.
Martha cocked her head skeptically, "Tell me then, what don't I know about you?" I squeezed my eyes closed and swallowed the lump in my throat,