Deadly Secrets

Chapter 5: Pink Panties

[Revised] 

She rolled onto one side, then another, unable to sleep. There was something unfamiliar about the bed; the mattress was a little on the hard side, the pillow was too pudgy, and it had given her a weird neck pain. Zara rubbed it and, grimacing, sat up and crossed her legs. 

When her eyes had adjusted to the twilight of the room, she looked around, the familiarity of her surroundings sinking in. She was in his room, his place, and Zara didn't even remember making it into the bed on her own.

The day before had been wild. As she stared blindly into the darkness, she replayed it over and over in her head, analysing the events because it vexed her how sloppy the break-in was. They usually had no problem with adjusting to unfamiliar situations, but this time, it was like everyone was too 'on-edge' to think straight. The gang had been so rough with their manners like they detested one another and only sat in the same car together because of their task.

Zara dragged her hands down her face, aggravated with herself and the paranoia-ridden thoughts. It was all in her head; maybe she had just misinterpreted what was said, maybe she had been too picky with the way the heist was organised, maybe her hot-headed nature was the root of the problem—

Her stomach grumbled, making her snap out of her trance with a wince.

Her body was trying to warn her—she would go nuts revisiting the event as obsessively as she did, especially first thing in the morning, when exhaustion and hunger clung to her like moss to a damp wall. She needed to sit down and think rationally about what had happened, but that could only be achieved after she grabbed a bite to eat.

In addition to that, Zara had to formulate an apology for Orion and Aurora. Today the group had to make the trip to the pawn shop, so if everyone was in a sour mood, it would make an already enervating trip thrice as unbearable. Igor, the owner, was a force to be reckoned with: being the sly bastard he was, he'd do anything to trick the group into selling off their objects for less than what they were worth, even if he'd known them for over a year now.

Zara jumped out of bed and as she made her way to the door, brought a chunk of her sweater to her nose.

"P.U," she muttered, wrinkling her nose and stopping with her hand on the doorknob. It smelled like sweat and cigarette smoke. Wearing the same clothing for more than three days in a row was out of the question.

As she padded to the bathroom, hands entangled in her hair, she considered asking the twins for one of their mother's spare t-shirts. 

Saffron had two younger siblings, eight-year-old twin sisters. She had encountered them on occasion, during her many visits to Saffron's place, but they were very timid and didn't enjoy interacting with any of their brother's friends. Maybe they were scared of her or something, although she couldn't blame them; her appearance scared herself sometimes.

They were probably still sleeping, though, and besides, how the heck would she broach the subject? The last thing she needed was to also come across as a creep, then she could tick all the boxes. 

Saffron said he would lend me a shirt!

One thought led to the other, and the next minute she was rolling her eyes over their near car accident from the night before. Zara turned on her heel and tip-toed towards the living room, where Saffron probably slept. He came into view as she rounded the corner: he lay sprawled on the leather sofa, his right arm draped over his eyes while his left rested on his stomach. He even had one leg swung over the backrest, entangled in a good portion of the quilt.

She would have felt guilty about the obviously uncomfortable position he was sleeping in if he wasn't snoring so loudly. Zara watched him fondly, reminiscing about the days when they stayed up all night eating popcorn and watching Horror movies. They were all a distant memory now, but Zara wished she could relive them again. Between school and crime, she barely had any time to be carefree nowadays.