Thalia

Chapter 28: Taking Action

Chapter 28: Taking Action

I look at my watch reading 9:47 a.m. and it's a Saturday. It's obviously the end of life as we know it because I'm never up and out of the house by now. If anything, I'm just now going to bed but since Misty's plan made me get up, I am up. And I am mad. And I am hungry. And I'm on the very beginning of Calluse Woods, waiting with this most likely illegally manufactured backpack on. 

Misty said it would be wise if I came here, not dressed in Thalia gear since this whole plan is supposed to look casual. They want me at my weakest, and this is it—or at least they think so. A teenage girl in jean shorts, tennis shoes, and a baggy 1920s style shirt isn't very intimidating unless you were in that bug trail in which I spontaneously went serial killer on on the way here. In that case, I was your worst freakin' nightmare. You can run, vermin, but you can't hide from Momma Rose.

I kill one more stray ant scrabbling across a rock and kneel down to get the red paint and chocolate syrup stored in my bag. Gently, I take out a syringe and mix the two substances together and slowly squirt it onto my leg. Taking some utensils, I start to dab it, smear it, and clump it.

Done. It looks just like blood and to anyone who would happen to pass me, something that I'd eventually die from. Fake injuries for the win. Before anything can go wrong, I shove the items back into my bag and clutch my calf as if it's in excruciating pain. Behind me, I hear a crunching of leaves and it abruptly stops; it's either a member of PeepTom's crew or a really obese, steroid-munching, mutant possum.

But according to Misty's scheme, I deduce it's PeepTom. 

"Is somebody hurt here? Not that much of a shocker since you can barely keep your relationship stable." Unless PeepTom's voice has gone from its usual deep baritone to casual female, it's not PeepTom. Startled by the unexpected vocal pitch, I can't help but to stir around and surprisingly face Indigo. 

Perfect, Misty; you already screwed everything up. I didn't mentally prepare myself to fight Indigo and her pig hoove feet, I prepared myself to fight PeepTom and his incongruous fetish with me. Like, what's his purpose on stalking an awkward girl who occasionally spells her own name wrong?

My shock must catch her eye for she cocks an eyebrow up high. "Oh, is this news to you, Rosie? I mean, we come to you all of the time but I guess you can sense this time is different. Way different." She smirks and gives me a once over. "You're done for, Rose. For good."

Oh my gosh, get me the crap out of here before I crap the crap on this crappy ground. I wasn't expecting this.

The one day I plan to end it for them, they plan to end it for me. Plan A has not only been tossed out the window, it's been shoved down a flight of stairs, into a dumpster, and shredded in a horse glue factory. Her eyes drop down to my "injured" leg. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know you're not really hurt. I'm a girl just as much as you are," Doubt it. "And as a girl, you should know we all can smell chocolate from a distance."

Well, there goes Plan B.

My last hope is to just go for it. Misty said she'd handle it from here anyways, right? I—with little movement—unlock my phone and send the text that was pre-typed for emergencies such as this. In a moment's time, I'm up and charging for Indigo with all the strength I can muster. It's almost all happening in slow motion: I stand and lurch forward, Indigo stays put and doesn't even worry that I'm on my feet and right before I lay my hands on her, everything gets loud.

I'm held back by invisible forces and it's all ringing. My eyes hurt, my legs give out and the only thing that possibly brings the slightest bit of comfort are my hands that're covering up my ears in hope to delude the screech as much as possible. The pain is overbearing and there's not an ounce of energy in my body left, it seems.