White

I'M DOING JUST PEACHY, YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER.

Hello. It's me.

Sorry guys, I couldn't help it. It just, felt right.

Anywhos, image to the right is what Devon wore to wherever the heck they're going in this chapter.

Enjoy, my marshmallows.

...................................................................

Cheers to the freakin' weekend.

I drink to that, yeah-yeah.

Oh let the Jame-

My fist came down on the alarm clock. Hard.

There was no way in hell I was even going to contemplate waking up. It was Saturday for fuck's sake. I had a schedule.

Sleep, eat, watch Second Chance reruns, sleep.

Unless of course my friends were coming over.

Which, I realised with a sigh, they were.

But, my subconscious quipped, they won't be here for another hour. And, girlfriend, you could use that beauty sleep. Might stick to it's word and do you some good.

Obviously, my subconscious and I weren't very close.

I snuggled back into my white, feathered down comforter and closed my eyes.

One sheep.

Two sheep.

Three sheep.

Four Chris'.

Hold up.

"Chris," I mumbled sleepily "what the fuck are you doing in my dream, you're not a sheep."

"The fuck does it look like I'm doing, I'm waking you up. We have to go, if we're gonna get anything done today." His voice sounded very normal,not distorted like it should've been, seeing as I was dreaming.

I turned over and Dream-Chris didn't turn with me. Weird.

"Well you can fuck off, I need my beauty sleep."

I thought I heard him mutter something along the lines of 'You really don't', but then again, I was half asleep. And dreaming.

"I really didn't want to have to do this," Dream-Chris said with a sigh "but Pat said last resort so..."

WHOOSH.

Ice cold water poured down on me in torrents. Wave, after wave, after wave-

Okay jokes, it was only one bucket, but still.

I jolted up, fully awake this time and screaming bloody murder. I whipped my head around, searching for the culprit. My eyes landed on Chris, who had a very grim expression on his face.

Apparently, Dream-Chris was real life Chris. Go figure.

I stood up slowly-very slowly- from my soaking bed, giving Chris the chance to run. Instead he tightened his fists and stood his ground, even though he was visibly shaking, playing the one with balls. I grinned.

His suicide, not mine.

"Chris?"

It was more of a statement than a question, but he answered it anyway.

"Y-yeah," he cleared his throat "Yeah, wassup Dev?"

"Do you really want to know?"

I took one calculated step forward, and Chris winced at the squishy sound my ankle sock made when it came in contact with the hardwood floor. I might have been petite,to say the least but I was extremely short tempered. So very,very short tempered.