The Diary of the Devil

The Diary of the Devil [16]

meh, you guys. i know i haven't updated in a while and i'm super sorry. i'll try harder from now on. although i've been feeling lazier than the guy who invented the flag of libya, but i'll try. i really will.

Who thinks Holden from Pretty Little Liars is really hot?! I do! Yay!

O_^.^_O_^.^_O_^.^_O

I was having a weird dream. I was Dorothy and I was wearing ruby slippers. Max was the bad witch and my mom was the good witch. My dad was the scarecrow-- that I could believe since they both had no brains--, Avery was the cowardly lion, Noah was the tin man-- though in my dream he always seemed to have something to snack on--, Mrs. Shaw was the wizard, and Carlos the Crock Pot was Toto. It was truly mind boggling. Just as we were about to enter the big green castle, and I kept stumbling in those dumb shoes and my 'area' was feeling pleasantly breezy in that blue dress, a loud ringing noise woke me up. Before answering my phone, I ran my fingers through my hair, just to check if I still had the braids from my dream.

I brought the phone to my ear, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. The only thing that lit the room was a romantic glow from the moon outside my window.

"Hello?" I mumbled groggily in to my cell phone. My eyes were half lidded.

"Greyson?"

I leaned up more on my elbow. "Max? What the hell are you calling me for at..." I checked the clock. "Three o'clock in the morning?" I doubled checked the clock. "Holy crap, it's three o'clock. Call me later when I'm awake." I pulled the phone away from my ear angrily, about to disconnect the call with one press of a button.

"Greyson, wait!" Max begged, sounding entirely desperate.

"What?"

"I-I need you to pick me up." She hesitated on the other line. "Greyson?"

I sighed. "Where are you?"

Ten minutes later I gazed cautiously at the almost broken down door to a dingy looking club. Trash skittered at my feet when I shuffled forward. To the right was a diner, to the left, a Baby Gap. These were weird locations. Across the street, screams could be heard coming from the unsanitary tattoo parlor.

My attention went back to the club. Was Max in there? I checked the last message from her. This was the address she sent me. She said she'd be waiting outside. I looked around again. She wasn't.

Just as I was about to open the door, I was spun around to face Max, her hand on my shoulder. She appeared disheveled. Her face was wet, her hair was messed up, and she looked completely exhausted.

"What happened to you?" I blurted without thinking.

She rolled her bloodshot eyes. "Can we go?"

"If you explain to me why you're here at almost four o'clock in the morning."

She glanced down at her feet. "It's a long story. You don't need to hear it."

"Well, I want to," I shot back stubbornly.

She shook her head and began walking, her shoes making loud clicking sounds. It was only then that I realized what she was wearing. My eyes bugged out.

"Whoa! Do you possibly want to explain to me why you're dressed like a commonplace whore?" I glared at her with a stern expression. "Well?" I demanded after the only response I received was silence.

"I was at a club..." she trailed off vaguely.

"So? You had to dress like this?" I gestured to her short leather skirt and plunging neckline. "Not to mention the stripper heels."