Psycho

Chapter Twelve: Jealous Possessed-Boy

My breathing was rapid as I stared blankly at the front door where Luke had been a few seconds ago. He really confuses me and is really creepy. Was he controlling the hallucinations I was having? Is that even possible? I need answers, pronto.

Something from the corner caught my eyes, a fucking tarantula r ran out from the drawers and out towards me. I hated spiders, probably my biggest fear. Shortly after another one came out, followed by dozen others. I screamed at the top of my lungs, knowing Luke is probably doing this. I hugged my knees up to my chest, burying my face in the space between my knees and my chest, trying not to cry. Spiders make me want to spew everywhere, they're ugly and scary.

"Luke! Stop it, stop it now! Please!" I yelled.

I finally grew some balls (not literally) and jumped off the couch, carefully not to stand on the spiders that weren't even there. Once I got into my room I slammed the door shut and going into my bed, pulling the cover over my head.

_

I woke up to the sound of the front door opening. I froze. Waiting to see if it was Daniel or something Luke had put together.

"Scar?" I let out a sigh of relief, it was Daniel.

"In my room!" I called out to him.

I heard his large work boots clamper along the wooden floor, making his way to my room. The door opened and I turned my head to the left, to see his face covered in black dirt from the cars, his black jumpsuit with a white dirty top underneath, with his timberland boots, and his hair was a complete mess.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"The same," I sighed "I had another hallucination, that spiders were everywhere in the living room, it was horrible." I said, leaving out the Luke part, no doubt he'd go to the police and report him, I don't want to upset him more than I have from calling him a psycho, big mistake there. He wouldn't be doing this if I hadn't called him that, I'm such an idiot, it just slipped out.

"Maybe you should go to therapy? Or a mental asylum-"

"Daniel!" I exclaimed whilst laughing.

"I'm joking," He chuckled, "you aren't that crazy," he joked. "-but maybe consider the therapy, maybe they can help and suggest shit to you"

"Yeah, Ill think about it," I smiled.

"So, what do you want for dinner?"

"Umm.. how about, macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs through it" I smiled widely.

He sighed dramatically, "for fuck sake, I was hoping you'd say a take-out"

"Uck shut up and get into the kitchen," I giggled.

He smirked and ran over to me, straddling my waist and tickled my sides. I screamed, laughed and cried whilst trying to wriggle away.

"D-Daniel" I laughed loudly. "Quit it"

"Apologize!" He yelled over my laugh.

"N-Never" I giggled -- tears of laughter rolled down my cheeks.

"Well then, guess ill just keep-- OW FUCK!" He screamed and laid down on me, groaning in pain.

"Oh my God! What is it" I panicked.

"My back, is so.. so fucking sore," he said, his eyes getting droopy, his face was pale like he was going to faint.

I gently pushed him beside me, making him lie on his stomach. His jumpsuit had came down a bit, blood was seeping through the white t-shirt. I gasped as I pulled his top up, revealing his back that was covered in scratches.