Agoraphobia

Chapter 4

"Yo, Maeve! You're daydreaming again! Snap out of it!"  A voice broke out, surprisingly not making me flinch or show any sign of reaction. I simply walked past the brown haired, brown eyed Italian girl, setting my notebook down on the side of the Kitchen counter.

I turned on my feet and faced Steph, sending wry looks towards the group of dressed up teenagers, "Can I take my break now?" I pleaded, my voice rising an octave as if I was begging her to say yes. She simply quirked a brow, her lips pressed down into a thin line, "Sure, I guess. No longer than fifteen minutes, 'kay?"

With that, she reached for the notebook on the side counter, nodding towards me before disappearing further into the depths of the kitchen, most likely to get towards the fridge for the fresh lemons.

Letting out a careful sigh, I pushed myself away from the edge of the table and made my way towards the back of the building, not forgetting to go into the locker room to grab my phone from my bag. I walked towards the exit at the back, pushing down on the heavy handle and letting the oh-so-fresh city wind blow into my face, as well as mess up my hair slightly.

I quickly stepped out and shut the door behind me, a shiver of displeasure running through me as I could see just how badly our bins were overfilled. Why did it look so untouched? I swore we emptied it the other day!

The sounds of car horns blaring at each other distracted me slightly, causing me to turn my head towards the road to my far right. Cars drove past at a quick pace, and even a few people walked by now and then. I smiled stiffly, rubbing my arms against my sides as if on impluse to make me warmer. To be honest, it wasn't even that cold out, it was probably just because of the fact that it was boiling inside!

I walked around the corner into an alley so all human life was completely sealed off, allowing me to see two dark figures at the end of it, leaning against opposite walls, cigarettes in their hands. I already knew it was Terence and Ronan, so I didn't bother myself with them. I opened up my crappy Galaxy Ace and checked my messages, not surprised to see none. I switched onto the Facebook app, and took my time to scroll down the news feed, liking a few things here and there. I wasn't the social type of person, so I never put up these things called 'statuses'. I have been confronted about it, but I always ignore them, or just send them a dirty look.

Does it matter?

I've had it since forever, and this has to be the hundredth time I've been on it this month. Out of habit, probably. As I continued scrolling, I stopped halfway down my news feed when I saw a picture of a man with pure white skin, and horrendous gashes inside of his cheeks, showing all of his teeth off. He wore a white hoody, and black pants, and black shoes. In his hand was a bloody knife.

The thing that unnerved me, though, was the fact that his costume was perfect. No flaws at all. Not even a smudge on his face from the white makeup.

I shook my head, covering the screen with my free hand and leaning my head back against the stone cold wall, not even processing the things that have happened there. So, was this a popular character, then? Was it a new thing to dress up as psychos? I would never know, but needless to say, I needed to do my research.

"Hey, Maeve, you alright?" A voice shouted over to me, and I instantly recognized it as Terence's. He was walking over to me, pressing the butt of his cigarette against a wall to put it out, before dropping it to the floor. He made his way towards me, the flicks in his short brown hair sticking out from the wind. He leaned against the wall beside me, looking down since he was only a few inches taller than me. 

"I-I'm fine. Just thinking." I reassured, looking straight ahead, trying my best not to make eye contact with him. One thing I didn't want to do; talk to someone about it. My thoughts are my own, and I don't think they need to be voiced aloud.

He quirked a brow at me, copying my actions as he leaned his back against the wall, "What about?" I sent him a dirty look, but it seemed as if he didn't notice it. He was too busy looking for something in his pockets. I let out a small sigh and pushed myself off of the wall, dusting myself off before placing the phone in my pocket. "Nothing. Don't worry about it." I finished blankly, not giving him enough time to reply. 

I walked around the corner once more, not even looking down towards the floor before I tripped over something. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, and I swore I heard something crack. I let out a small yelp but bit back the scream that wanted to be let out, before rolling onto my back and holding onto my right wrist. God that hurt like a bitch!

I bit my tongue to keep from cussing out loud, sending deathly glares towards the can that managed to trip me up. That wasn't there before! How the hell can something like that magically appear?!

I stood onto my legs shakily, still holding onto my bad wrist as I walked towards it. It wasn't even dented! How could it not be harmed after having me stumble over it like an idiot?!

Ignoring the searing pain in my wrist, I let go of it and used my good hand to pick it up. I surveyed the area for a nearby (not full) trash can, until my gaze landed on one in the far right, tucked in neatly between two walls. I began to mumble words under my breath, stomping my way towards said trash can. How did I manage to do that? I always have dumb luck! 

Maybe the crack in my bedroom mirror was coming back to haunt me.

I shrugged off the thought, standing like an idiot in front of the even smellier trash can. God, that stank! A lot worse than the other ones, at least. I quickly dropped the can onto the floor out of anger of my idiocy. How could I even open it with my bad hand. I let out a loud groan and grabbed onto the cold handle, lifting it up until I was met with the most pungent of smells.

That was when I couldn't move.

Inside of the trash can, was the head of none other than James, my boss who always managed to find a reason to yell at me. His head was just lying there, his eyes wide open and emotionless, and his skin torn apart from both cheeks. There was a large gash in his forehead, and the blood that you would have expected to have dried up, was still fresh. His neck was cut in half, his throat hanging out, along with the top part of his spine. There were bruises all over his face, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

I couldn't stop myself.

I screamed as loud as I could, falling backwards onto the can that got me in this position in the first place. I didn't pay attention to the now seering pain in my wrist, I was too frightened by what I just saw to even contemplate it. It had to be a dream, right? 

Everything began to muffle out, and I swore I was still screaming, staring at the trash can like an idiot with wide eyes. His head was still there! It wasn't a dream!

I heard two pairs of feet come running towards me, before stopping dead in their tracks. I knew it was Terence and Ronan.

Someone walked behind me and picked me up by the shoulders, my mouth agape and slowly processing what was happening. They wanted me to move away. I felt my eyes twitching, as well as my throat burning from the upcoming vomit. Standing shakily, I noticed that it was Terence who had helped me onto my feet, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, sending wary looks towards his older brother.

I began sobbing, my eyes wide at the thought of my now dead bosses decapitated head etched into my brain.