The Vituperator (NaNoWriMo 2015)

six \\ intruder

I'M WRAPPED UP in a towel, having just come out of the shower, when I hear someone at the front door downstairs. A slight scowl finds its way up to my face, who'd be coming at our door at this time of night? It's too late for dinner, if my mothers invited anyone over then — ah, what do I care?

I slip back into my room quietly, hearing my mom greet whoever's at the door with a muffled polite surprise. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, not bothering to turn on the light. With only the light coming from the street lamps outside streaming in through my window, I can hardy see a thing — only the outlines of furniture.

I walk over to my bed, raising my legs as I walk in case I collide with anything I've tossed to the floor, one hand holding my towel in place. I sit on my bed, the springs creaking slightly at my ungraceful descent. It's one of those nights where I just feel too tired to do anything — not even change into something more comfortable. I catch sight of my bag on the floor, the familiar shape of Alona's diary forming as my eyes adjust to the dark.

You're not that interesting, my mind spits at the notebook. I feel a bit bitter about it, her life written down not being enough. She may have thought her love for her looks was worth filling out over half a notebook, but it's not a compelling read. There's something a little twisted about that to me — I hate myself for thinking some girl's life isn't worth writing down.

A sudden, sharp knock on my door makes me turn my head so fast I thought for a second my neck would snap or my head would roll straight off my body — if only. It's a weird hobby, imagining shit like that from time to time.

"Olivia?"

"Come in," I say, thinking it's my parents.

The door swings open to reveal Nick and Sasha, standing side by side at the door frame. They're silhouettes, the light from the hall casting hard shadows on them — it's almost something from a horror film.

"Hey," Nick says, flashing pearly whites. Under this lighting, he looks something sinister. I catch some movement from Sasha, she's nodded at me.

"We wanna have a little chat with you," she says, leaning against my doorframe.

"Sorry if it's late," Nick says. "It was a little spontaneous."

"You're mom didn't seem too bothered though," Sasha says with a tilt of the head.

"Gosh, then by all means, come in," I say, waving an arm at them. I scoot back to lean back against my headboard, crossing my arms over my towel.

"You don't wanna, uh, get dressed?" Sasha asks, it's too dark to tell, but it sounds like she's raising an eyebrow.

"Aw, come on, Sash," Nick says, flashing his teeth again, "if she's comfortable then who are we to bother?"

"You guys aren't staying for long, too. So I think I'm good like this for now," I say.

"Now who said that?" Nick asks.

"Well, I assume "little chat" means "little chat" and not full-length conversation."

"Well, actually —"

"Talk, time's not stopping for you guys."

"Can we turn on the light?" Sasha asks, placing her hand on the wall, feeling for a switch. I shrug, though I'm not too sure if she saw that.

The lights flick on and I shut my eyes tight. I open my eyes and squint, it's so bright. Nick settles down at the foot of my the bed while Sasha stands over him, leaning on his shoulder. The immediate response in my head is bah, there's an irrational annoyance that follows seeing even the littlest PDA.