Villains ➵ bill skarsgård a.u.

thirty three

"Buckle up, señoritos and señoritas!" Dalton hollered from the driver's seat, putting on his seatbelt and pulling out the driveway.

It was dark out, the darkest shade of blue colouring the skies, the establishments lighting up the streets. We were all exhausted, Dustin and Brylle squeezing next to each other as Jumper now chose to sit on her own and endure the pain of having force herself next to the window. It didn't look comfortable, and the permanent grimace on her face was enough proof. The scene by the backseat wasn't any different, Romina and Georgie now sitting next to each other, and Arthur now next to me. I, however, couldn't care less, peering out the windows as the streetlights lit up the white roads.

I didn't give any more papers after the petty argument I had with Arthur, slightly disappointed with myself. I went back to the meeting place, sitting down a waiting shed as I searched for their familiar faces in the crowd. It was Dalton I first saw emerging from it, walking alongside Georgie. I didn't tell them about what happened, making up some lame excuse about my arm which they easily took. Even if I did tell them, they'd have another excuse to kick him out the party, and as much as a part of me wants that, it's too late. He's already contributed too much, and I wasn't an asshole to just sell him out after that fucked up confrontation. At the end of the day not a single lead about Sarah has come up, the same old nothingness bringing us all down.

I leaned my elbow up against the door, keeping as much distance from the person next to me as possible, which isn't saying much. It's been a while since I last saw the eye less witch, and it seems like everytime I do, my skin itches for the old pain. It didn't help that I was out in public, like a piece of meat in a lair of hungry animals. So I did what I always do. I walked away and had a panic attack alone as I walked back to the meeting place, gulping on the urge to scream my lungs out and have a breakdown. Every step I made felt like stepping off a ledge and onto my death, the chilly fingers of winter choking me the longer I took.

She said they were all liars. I had no idea what it was talking about, neither any clue who it was pertaining to, but I didn't listen. I didn't dare to. The last time I did, I almost broke a promise to myself and I wasn't going to let that happen anymore. Although as my jaw quavered from the immense chill, Arthur's accusations kept coming back to me like some kind of a reminder. At the end of the day, he wasn't the first person to say those words to me. It's no surprise he's not the first person who made me feel absolutely horrible about myself to the point of harmful thoughts. I've told them to myself as well; the only difference is, it hurts more hearing it from another person's mouth, not to mention someone like him.

I know better. I've heard far worse things, however assuming I just brought this upon myself was what stung the most. Sometimes it makes me wish I listened to the voices in my head when they told me to cut through deep enough to stop my pulse, but I was too scared to continue. Just like I was too scared to admit that a part of me believed that little girl when she said I killed them, because maybe in a way I did.

My mother was right there in her maroon scarf, standing by the door and looking at me. "Adrianne." She called softly, but I was too mad. Too mad that I had this immature little scowl on my face. I couldn't understand why they wouldn't let me come with them. It was unfair at that time, and now that I was thinking about it, it was even more unfair. If I had been there in the car with them, I would've died along with them. If I was there, I wouldn't have to face everything afterwards. And if I was there, I would've went along with them without a thought. To this day I still haven't figured out why they didn't want me to come, and I keep on desperately wishing I begged for them to stay instead.

The ride home felt unbelievably long, the slippery roads abundant with cars despite the snowfall raging outside our windows. The blizzard was back. No surprise, it was too dangerous almost. There had been multiple headlines on tv about people getting on accidents lately in hillside, yet everybody was too tired to care. Jumper's head was rolled back against the seat, her eyes closed and her mouth open as she slept, Georgie leaning of Romina's shoulder in deep slumber. Silence lingered in the car like a ghost, the tick of the meter entertaining my ears enough to spare me from giving in to the heaviness of my eyes. Dalton was the only one who remained awake, grip tight on the steering wheel as he pressed himself down the seat, the wipers getting rid of the ice gathering on his windshield.