𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 ↠ sweet pea [2]

|| THIRTY-ONE ||

Lauryn's foot tapped against the filthy sidewalk outside of the liquor store, where she stood with her arms folded waiting for Rich. She glanced up and down the street out of boredom, the familiar sight of the flickering, if not broken, streetlights reminding her of the year prior.

Sighing when a wave of nostalgia hit her, she looked down, only to realize such a parallel. She hated thinking about the new baby, not because she didn't want it, but because it only reminded her of Sweet Pea, and how far away he was though he was close.

Remembering what they were about to do, Lauryn was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the bell jingle, and Rich emerged from the store. "Sorry, Laurie, had to take a leak."

"Not like we're in a rush," she replied, somewhat coldly as the anxiety of what they were about to do, potentially to Jared, crept its way up on her. 

Rich sniffled harshly, his face distorting with the action. He pushed open the apartment block door with his red denim-clad arm, and Lauryn wasn't sure whether to be more alarmed by how dark and humid it was on the landing, or how loud Rich's breathing was becoming. 

"Which number is his again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, and she could hear the grittiness in his throat. 

"Uhh..." Lauryn thought, but her mind kept getting side-tracked by the sensory overload her surroundings were causing her. "I think it's... eight-- no, it's eleven, I think."

"You think?" Rich turned around sharply to face her, almost making her jump at how quickly his face was just inches from hers. The wildness in his eyes almost glowed in the dark, and she noticed the dilatedness of his pupils.

Stammering, Lauryn swallowed the lump that had come up in her throat. "It's eleven. Sorry."

"Let's go then," he continued and grabbed her by the sleeve of her jacket as he broke into a jog up the stairs.

Struggling not to stumble over at the speed she was being pulled up at, Lauryn was starting to feel her legs paralyse with every step, everything in her being telling her that this was a very bad idea.

Rich banged on the door with his fist, causing it to shudder. There was no reply, and only the faint sound of a TV on the other side of the door. Rich repeated the action, this time harder, until the door finally opened.

There Jared stood, a bottle of beer in his hand. His eyes widened as he glanced at Rich, but moreso when he saw Lauryn, and the fear on her face from where she was standing.

"What a pleasant surprise," Jared said sarcastically, taking a sip. "Come to drown me in, I don't know, the toilet, this time, huh, Foster?"

Rich's teeth gritted, and he charged inside, launching Jared to the floor onto his back and causing him to skid backwards a couple of feet. Rich planted his heavy boots either sides of Jared's torso, bending down to drag his back upwards by his t-shirt.

"Say you fucking did it," he demanded, Jared scrambling for a possible reason why he would say that.

"Did what?" he asked, watching Rich's fist coil in front of his face. He threw a punch, and Lauryn flinched, her face reddening and eyes starting to water.

"Rich..." she rasped. "There must be an easier way."

Rich ignored her, continuing to spit and hack any words out of Jared he could manage. "Say you killed that skank!"

Jared still said nothing, his eyes fixating on Lauryn. 

"Why you lookin' at her?" Rich hissed, before dragging Jared to his feet and throwing him to the couch which thudded against the wall as he slumped down. "Don't look at her. You and I are talking."