The Degeneration of Gwen Weaver

Interludes

"Why not?!" I exclaim, my voice reverberating too loudly off the tiled floor. I lower my voice. "I mean- Faust, why not?"

He looks more uncomfortable than I've ever seen him. "Well, we talked it over, and we just realized that we could work it out, and yeah."

"Bu-"

"It's really none of your business." he cuts me off harshly. I'm stung by his words, used to Carly's gentle dissent.

"Fine, then. Why'd you wanna talk to me, huh?" I stumble.

"Carly told me about... your episodes..." he begins hesitantly.

"What about them?" I respond, an unintentional chill running through my voice.

"I dunno, I was kinda worried about you, I guess."

"Well, it's really none if your business." I repeat in a cruel mockery of his words.

"Kay, asshole, you can't talk to me like that. I was just trying to help." he stands up, brushing crumbs off his jeans and grabbing his backpack.

"Fine." I retort, and wait until he's disappeared down the hall before pulling out the crumpled piece of notebook paper on which I'd scrawled my dream.

New strategy: instead of thinking about the why, think about the what.I scan it again, looking for any concrete hints that could give me a clue about the origin of these visions. The Weaver girl- that has to be me. And Paul, Mary, and Todd... But no surnames or places to work from. Assuming that this whole nightmare wasn't a figment of my imagination- and I'm fairly certain it wasn't- then I've reached a dead end. So much for researching my dreams.

I feel breath on my neck, and whip around to find myself face to face none other than Faust Murphy. "Shit!"

That slow smile of his unfurls itself across his cheeks like a cat stretching. "I'm in." he grins.

"What?"

"I'll help."

"I don't need your help."

"Okay, Weaver. I'll pick you up at seven."

"What are we- what are you doing?"

His grin widens. "We're going to a graveyard."

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Faust rides the bus home with me, insisting on sitting behind me so that he can flick the back of my neck. When we get home, my parents are thankfully still at work and we have the house to ourselves. I make the mistake of expressing my thoughts out loud, however, which leads to Faust laughing for a minute straight at my supposed "thirst".

He flops down on the couch while I head to the kitchen.

"Gweeen..." He whines.

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

"Pity."

"Make me foooood."

I cut up some apples and peanut butter and throw a box of saltines at Faust's head, but he dodges it and it spills across the carpet.

"Ya done screwed up, Weaver."

"Shut up."

"Hey now, I'm the one who's helping you."

"Are you gonna keep holding that over me?" I sigh.

"Yup."

I grab my food and plop next to him on the couch. "Now, what was it you were saying about graveyards?"

"Well, it looked like you were trying to find a historical root in your nightmares." He takes on the mannerisms of as esteemed scholar. "If we look for graves with the same names as the people in your dream, we can find out more about them and determine whether or not your visions are a figment of your imagination."

"Wow."

"What do you think?"

"I think..."

"That I'm the greatest?"

"... that you're smarter than you look."

Seconds later, a pillow smacks me in the face.

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A/N Guys, I got an update out! Yes, it's kinda short and I missed last week, but I'm still trying to figure out this school thing. Also, it's a big week for me and- excuses, excuses. I'll try to keep this story on track. Vote and comment if you want to! And thank you so much for reading!