Expensive Headphones "Twin Sized Mattress"

8 "I Don't Want to Watch and Then Complain."

Ok, so technically I didn't get it done over the weekend. I got it done on Monday (it's 2AM). But fuck you. For real though, I'm going to try and update more frequently. School started and the first two weeks are always the most stressful.

Richs POV
The pit in my already queasy stomach plummeted miles deeper and my hands grew more and more fidgety when I walked into geometry, seeing Michaels seat empty for the fourth time this week. Trying not to linger in the front of the class for too long, I forced my feet towards my seat in the back. I looked to my right at the empty desk next to me. Little scraps of paper were flaked across it (Michael had a habit of ripping the corners off papers), and doodles and short notes lay scattered across the sleek wood in sloppy handwriting.

The sight made tears well up in my eyes. Blinking rapidly, I wrenched my eyes away and dug my nails into my knuckles. Someone closed the blinds, sending smaller strips of light cascading across my desk. These slivers of light revealed the various doodles on my own desk-none of them were from me. Michael would always lean across the aisle and draw a dopey looking stick figure on my desk whenever I was upset to try and cheer me up.

I tore my eyes away from my desk, but wherever I looked, I couldn't shake the memories of Michael out of my head. I felt stupid, I was probably just being dramatic. He was probably just sick or had to take a couple of days off to deal with some of the JD shit. Despite those few thoughts, that anxiety-filled pit embedded itself deeper and deeper into my stomach, further driving itself into me.

After school, I walked home–well, to JDs house. I bit at my lip and picked at my nails. I was lost so deep in my anxiety-ridden mind that I had barely been remembering to pick my feet up. My shoes dragged apathetically along the ground, getting scuffed up in the process.

My nerves turned into more of a dreading feeling as I walked up JDs' driveway and approached the door.

Trying not to prolong the inevitable for too long, I just opened the door and forced myself into the dark house. I released a breath that I wasn't even aware that I was holding when I saw no signs of JD. A light airy feeling began to rise in my chest. He could be out for the day, or maybe Michael managed to get me free finally. A small grin cracked through my usually sullen demeanor.

The euphoric feeling only lasted seconds. Just as soon as it had arrived, I heard a series of loud, fast-paced thumps coming up the stairs from the basement. The door flung open revealing JD. His presence seemed to suck the air out of the room. He quickly shut the door behind him, running a hand through his greasy ebony hair.

"How are you doing, babe?" He leaned against the door.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, averting my eyes from his.

"We've talked about lying, darling." He growled the last part, anger obviously hid under the thin layer of his sweet façade.

"Michael just hasn't been at school lately."

"Did he not tell you?" He narrowed his eyes, grabbing my hand and leading me to sit on the couch next to him.

"Tell me what?" I began to bounce my leg.

"Rich, Michael moved away."

My throat quickly grew dry and my hands began to shake at the same rate as my leg. Moisture pricked at my eyes, but I furiously blinked it away.

"W-why wouldn't he tell me?"

JD pulled out his pocket knife, taking out the blade and examining it.

"I don't know, darling. Maybe he just wanted to get away from you." He pulled my shirt off slightly and cut a line into my stomach. I could barely feel it. "That was for stuttering." He leaned in, whispering making the gesture seem romantic in a sick, fucked up way.

I opened my mouth only to close it again. He had a point. Why would Michael want to help me? He didn't ever want to be friends with a self-deprecating loser stuck in an abusive relationship like some fucking pussy. It's not his job to take care of me and I acted like it was. Another tear almost slipped down, but I managed to keep it back.

"Oh. Ok." I looked down. There was the littlest bit of blood soaking through my shirt.

"How about we work on your lisp for now?"

"I-I really think I'd rather not."

"Oh dear." He grinned. "You also need to work on your stutter."

He grabbed my wrist and yanked me from the sofa, dragging me into the bedroom. He pushed me down onto the couch and went into the bathroom. "Ok, so I want you to say this sentence without stuttering or lisping." He walked back into the room with a plastic bag of different sized knives and razors.

I nodded.

"The sentence is, 'Sally sells seashells by the seashore.'"

"Sally thells—" I stopped myself after the first lisp.

"Don't worry, keep going. We're gonna have a great time." He pulled out one of the sharper knives, carefully running the blade along his finger.

The next morning I woke up with a dull stinging sensation all across my thighs, stomach, and chest. Groaning, I rolled over, looking at the analog clock on my nightstand.

9:32

A pang of fear spiked in my chest. I was late for skill. JD was going to kill me. Ignoring the protests of my drowsy body, I threw the covers off me and jumped to my feet only to see JD in the doorway of the bedroom.

"I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to sleep in. I don't know how it happened—" I rushed to explain myself.

"Shush." He walked towards me. "It's no biggie, I was actually just thinking that you probably don't need to go to school anymore."

"What? Why no—"

"Don't fucking question me." He snapped, glaring daggers at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered and headed back into the warmth of our bed.

I woke up again to a loud clattering coming from underneath me. Furrowing my eyebrows, I dragged myself out of bed and lay on the floor, pressing my ear to the ground. Though it wasn't quite as loud as the clattering, somebody was definitely talking.

I grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders. I walked down the stairs, shivering as the temperature ever so slightly dropped. I still couldn't make out most of the words. Every now and then I caught a simple "fuck." As I continued to descend I began to wonder why I was investigating this. It surely couldn't lead to anything good for me. But, I was in too much of a sleep dazed state to care that much anymore.

I finally got to the bottom, stepping into the center of the basement. The concrete was cold on my bare feet and I had to squint to get used to the harsher lighting. I had never been in our basement with the lights on before. It was usually pitch black.

As soon as my eyes adjusted, I gasped, speechless. I seemed to choke on the air as I fought for words.

What the fuck.