M's P.O.V.
We watched movies, and ate more tubs of ice cream. We binged in the art of all things vampirery and dead.
It's three in the flipping morning. I slowly get up and tip toe.. . . . By tip toe I mean get up, forget the blanket is wrapped around my legs. I do this and fucking face-plant Into the soft carpet. I mean what if it wasn't fucking Marshmallow soft. What if I broke my princess nose.
" M, WHAT THE FUCK", Em jumps up - well sits up - and screams at my motionless, face-planted body in the way to plush carpet. Of course my supportive friends don't see if my nose is broken. They're laughing like a hyena on funny gas. I stand up and glare daggers into A and Em.
" I COULD HAVE DIED",I screech, " I WANT OREOS AND LIKE I FUCKING HAD A LIFE FAIL". I stomp out and start laughing. I fell and I could've broke my fabulous perfect nose. While on the countless and nearly impossible task of finding my delicious treats.
I give up. I yell for Em.
" WHEEERRREEEE ARE MY FUCKING ORE- ", theirs a hand over my mouth. I realize the back door is slightly open and the lock is broken. Uh-oh.
" you're coming with us ", a dark voice growls in my ear. I gasp dramatically.
Em's P.O.V.
M stomps off. I'm still giggling.
She's in the kitchen. I hear the fridge open, and things moved around. I start back into watching Buffy and eating at an endless mountain of ice cream.
" WHEEERRREEEE ARE MY FUCKING ORE-", she's cut off.
" I think she found them", A looks out from around her blanket.
" um, them", I point at the unopened pack of Oreos in the floor.
" You're coming with us, does this smell like Chloroform", a slight whisper comes from the kitchen.
" Did you say something M", A asks.
" A, shut up, her voice isn't that deep you dumb ass". I listen closely while little miss stupid has a small panic attack.
" OMG WHO IS IT ARE WE GONNA DIE. EM IM TO YOUNG TO DIE", she hides under the blanket. I jump up and run to the "gun" in the tv stand. I turn around to a young black man holding A by the hair and holding a rag to her face.
" fuck", I hold the gun up and frown.
" there more of you aren't there" I say. I turn around to a small pale ish boy and a bat.
YOU ARE READING
Boston, Mass. Welcomes you
RandomImagine. . . . Growing up in a small two bedroom house. Having to fend for yourself, and your younger siblings. The stress push at you. Until you became something you had to. Imagine. . . . Living in fear that one day you will be trapped. No one...
