Breana Tomlinson-Styles-Horan-Malik-Payne

Back with a grudge

Helping my best friend with her English, I decided to stop speaking to her in French, "Yeah, man."

She laughed, "Are you going gangster?"

I laughed, shutting my computer off and tossing her my phone charger, "Nah, not yet. But, hey," I shrugged, "You never know."

This made her laugh, falling from the Game Room wall couch.

I chuckled and stood up, "I'm taking a shower, be ready."

Boys still gone, Marie-Elise and Bret would take turns coming over and spending the night. Bret left a few hours ago and Marie-Elise came right on cue.

I jumped in the shower, not waiting for it to warm up. It was about six at night and both of us felt like going somewhere, so we decided to get coffee then come back. It was just a way to spend money for no purpose, really.

Scrubbing my hair, Marie-Elise turned on the tele and watched another one of my French movies; She hated learning English and found all ways to avoid it.

It took me about thirty minutes to complete my routine and get my newly dry hair into a ponytail.

I grimaced whilst looking out the window and into the rain, rain boots it is. After zipping up my distressed denim shorts, black boots went over my legs. I yanked on a one-shoulder black sweatshirt and stumbled out to Marie-Elise as she switched the tele off.

"What-what was that?" she quizzed, knitting her eyebrows together.

"Limp," I sighed, frustrated, "When Bret was over, I fell into a hole in the backyard. It wasn't fun. He found it funny though."

She smirked, "Brat."

"I know right? Well, lets go."

We linked arms and got outside, not caring if our hair was getting wet.

We occasionally jumped into puddles, which splashed into the other person and annoyed them; But we laughed it off.

I frowned, "I think my boots are becoming water bottles."

Marie-Elise giggled, "So are mine."

We laughed together, jumping to get the water out.

I opened the door for her when we got to our favorite shop.

She curtsied, "Merci."

I gave a curt nod, "Soyez le bienvenu."

"See," she said as we ordered our drinks, "You still speak French."

I shrugged, "Sometimes. But remember, we're in England and need to communicate like them."

She sighed, "Why can't everyone talk like us?"

I thought about it, "You know, I'm not sure. Good question, though."

I paid the employee and sat down, waiting for my friend.

"So," she said as she sat down, "What's up?"

"Not much," I sipped the hot liquid, "Just school and watching reruns of Full House most of the time."

She laughed, "Not much isn't even close."

"I told you." I chuckled.

"Well, then tonight we'll make that different!"

Oh, if she only knew.

We talked for a while before the subject of singing came up.

"Do you ever consider singing?" she asked.

"Nah," I shook my head, "I don't. I'm no good, really."

She scoffed, "Nicki Minaj is no good. You, my friend are stunning!"

I laughed, "Thanks." I said sarcastically.

"We should get back to your house before the storm gets any worse." she cringed when a flash of lightening hit the distant sky.

I nodded, standing up, "Yeah."

We threw away our cups and grabbed umbrellas from the lost-and-found before heading out.

The rain beat down on the ground so hard you had to yell to hear anything, which we didn't do.

The wind flipped Marie-Elise's umbrella inside out so she stood under mine.

Grueling, that could describe it, I guess. It was cold and wet, ew.

We got back into my house and took our boots off. I walked ahead of her and began talking for no reason.

When she didn't answer, I spun around, "Mar-"

Two gun shots rang out within an instant. I screamed bloody murder as the blood drained from my leg and I stumbled over.

Greg laughed as he tied a piece of beer soaked clothe around my mouth. I bit it like a horse rein, struggling to stand up.

Marie-Elise was against the floor, knocked out after Greg held a gas covered clothe to her nose.

I cried, screaming and trying to move my undamaged leg.

Greg kicked my side, exactly where the bullet hit, and I fell all the way onto the ground.

My eyes closed as tears drained out. No one would be home for another week. Bret wouldn't be back for a few days, and when he did, we would be gone.

Greg lugged my body out of the house, leaving his gun, and threw me into the back of his car, all while my blood mixed with the rain on his shirt.

A shot of pain inflamed my leg and I screamed one last time.

{Disclaimer: I have nothing against Greg Horan at ALL! I've never had the pleasure of meeting him and I DON'T know what he's like. Nothing about this should be taken seriously at all for it is ALL fictitious!}