Generation Freaks✔️

Chapter 4.

The glazed eyes were sparking, threatening to extinguish at any given moment. Paisley and Paris clung to each other, watching in horror as their guardian began to thrash about, crimson liquid frothing at her lips before it created a red waterfall, gushing over her chin, and running down her neck. Her head whipped around violently, her salted hair, usually pulled delicately into a bun, broke free of its binds, whipping around her head in a silver lashing.

One more jerk, a strangled cry left red doused lips, a gurgle, as if something lay lodged in her throat, and Miss Guilding went still, frozen in her attempts to free herself from the surroundings that had tore her insides apart. The once glazed over eyes now were cases in a glassy state, a terrified gaze as they stared in eternity at the girl's.

Paisley's eyes shot open, her vision blurry at first sight. Blinking rapidly, she watched as the dancing shaped in front of her grew crisper, clearer with every passing moment. Her lips were parted, her throat seared with the rugged breathing from the little sleep she'd managed to get.

Sweat glistened on her face, matting her ebony locks to her flesh, and it took careful scraped to peel away the strands from her face. Paisley shifted as she sat up, stretching tender limbs that had been crush on the three seater of cushions with Paris.

Waking up in that spot was evidence enough that the night before had not been a simple dream turned nightmare, it had been reality. Pressing her palms into her eyes, Paisley drew in a shuddering breath, watching as the image of the glassy eyes resurfaced back in front of her vision. She would never be able to forget them, the daunting gaze would forever be burned into her memory.

A snoring free Paisley's gaze to the small blonde girl curled on the other end of the couch. Her gaze darted to a curtained window, little light peeking through a crack, but it was enough to tell that morning had long ago woke up.

Squirming out of the tangled mess that lay on the cushions made of two bodies, pillows, and blankets, Paisley threw her legs over the couch, shivering when her bare feet hit the cold of the ground before she stood up.

"Paris," Paisley mumbled, her voice thick with the sleep that still invaded her mind with an impenetrable fog. "Paris, it's morning, wake up."

Paris stirred, mumbled something incoherently, and buried her face into her pillow. Paisley shook her head, pursing her lips as she bent down, tugging the pillow off of her friend.

Paris' arms waved wildly around, swatting at the air as they sleepily tried to attack Paisley, but it was useless and Paris dropped her arms back to the couch, tugging her blanket up towards her head.

Paisley yanked the blanket out of the girls grip and threw it to the ground, reaching down to pull the cushion up, knocking Paris off the cushioned seats the blonde let out a yelp as she slammed to the ground with a thud, blinking furiously.

"Alright, alright, I'm up." Paris grumbled, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. "I'm up, you didn't have to do that."

Paisley motioned at the window and a sleepy eyed Paris glanced at the window, her shoulders dropping. She wasn't yet awake and the low glow of cotton candy pink had no effect on her, Paisley could see that clearly. They had to get up though, there were things to do and one massive obstacle that couldn't go ignored.

Grit crawled over Paisley's skin with hundreds of little legs, pricking her flesh with invisible needles that left a tingling sensation behind. She felt dirty, as if covered in grime. Paisley stepped over the mess on the floor, dragging her bare feet in reluctance towards the hallway.