Faintheart

Chapter 2: Old Friends and Annoying Relatives

*Self-edited*

Chapter 2: Old Friends and Annoying Relatives:

A shrill ring permeated through the darkness of my bedroom into my slumbering mind, instantly giving me an indescribable urge to wring someone's neck. Cracking open an eye to discover the source, I saw my cell phone on my night stand, the blinding white light causing a sharp pain to shoot through my skull. I snatched the accursed object in my hand, placed it against my ear and answered harshly, "Somebody better either be dead or dying for you to wake me at this ungodly hour."

        "Well someone's a bright little ray of sunshine," a male voice replied cheerily.

        "What in the name of God do you possibly want at this hour, you stupid, pesky son of a b-"

        "Hey, be nice now," he interrupted.

I sighed. "As I was saying, what do you want Aaron?" Aaron was, is, Sal's dumbass kid who only ever calls anybody at four in the morning to ask for drug money. You wonder why in the hell I even bother to answer the damn phone then? Well, my common sense and I haven't had our morning coffee yet and drinking all those beers last night didn't help things either.

        "Well, I haven't seen you in a while, cuz-"

        "Oh, really? I wonder why," I said, sarcasm dripping heavily in my voice.

        "Well somebody's on the rag."

        "Oh why you little insolent little bast-"

     "Aaron, don't call your cousin at four in the mornin' and expect her to be pleasant; she's a woman, for crying out loud. Now it's time for bed, son," I heard Sal chide his little bastard in the background.

        "Now what does my sex have to do with anything?" I demanded.

      "Nothing, sweet pea, now get some sleep," Sal snatched the phone from Aaron, earning an irritated "Hey!" 

        "Whatever. If your damn kid calls me up again at this goddamn hour Sal, I swear to God I will wring the little bastard's neck and fly him up on the flag pole at the high school by his underwear, you understand?"

Sal laughed despite my threat. "Don't worry, sweet pea. Get some sleep."

        "One more thing: don't call me sweet pea, dammit! I'm twenty one for God's sake!" I hissed.

He laughed again and hung up. Too infuriated to sleep, I got up and flipped on the light, but then flipped it back off when I realized my mistake blinded me temporarily. I slowly walked down the hall and into the kitchen for a midnight snack that will hopefully help me to fall asleep, only to discover that my fridge was depressingly bare. With another irritated sigh, I wandered back to bed only to memorize the contours of my ivory ceiling before sleep found me at last.

The next morning I decided to swallow my pride and pay a visit to an old family friend and ask for help and protection from his pack.

I parked my car in front of the towering log-cabin styled mansion and took a deep breath before exiting my opportunity for escape, walking up to the front door and knocking on the expensive stained oak. It opened to reveal a boy about sixteen or so, with collar length black hair and olive skin.

        "Can I help you?" he asked.

        "Yes," I replied politely, "Is Dorian here?"

He nodded and said, "Come in."

I stepped through the threshold of the oak door and gazed about the room with a wonderous, childish expression of curiousity. The boy chuckled at my face and closed the door behind me with a soft click.

        "Wait right here. He should be out in a minute," the boy said, then vanished through one of the many corridors leading deeper into the house, well, log-cabin meets medieval castle-like mansion.