Slice of Love Stories

Adelaide

By Elizabeth (Lizzie) Read

Copyright May 23 2020

A/N So, this is neither a love story nor does it have a happy ending. However, I wrote it, and I might as well post something rather than staring at all of the drafts that I have in this story.  (The pic is Adelaide, btw) Sending love to you all!!! ~Lizzie

Pink eyes and crimson skies. Where would you be without me? You feed your lies to the girl outside. And hide my voice in the maple tree.

"Hey, pretty lady, why don't you step into the house and kick back a few beers, with me before you go back to your place." Bradwr said one cold November night. An onlooker would have clearly noticed the smirk in his voice, the way that he drew out his 's' and gripped the blonde's arm, possessively. However, Emily was more than a little tipsy, and definitely up to having a nice make-out session and hopefully getting a bit more tipsy in the process.

The pair stumbled through the white-washed front door and collapsed on the couch, kissing each other sloppily on the mouths, faces, and necks. Emily ran her hand through Brad's messy brown hair, smiling as he pulled away. "Have a drink, blondie." he took a swig of the bitter, brown liquid and passed the rest to her. She gulp

ed at it before grabbing fistfulls of his shirt and pulling him close to her, sucking at the skin of his neck.

He stopped suddenly, though, pushing Emily off of him, when he heard a shrieking sound coming from the attic. "What's... what's tha noise...?" Emily slurred, groggily looking up at the yellow-stained ceiling. There was another, blood-curdling, scream that shook the shoddily-installed light-fixture above them. Emily slid off of the couch and continued to gaze at the ceiling.

"Stay here. I'll go check it out." Brad said, grabbing at Emily's arm and roughly bringing her into another kiss, teeth clashing together, before mounting the creaky, splinter-ridden stairs. Pulling the attic ladder down from the ceiling, he lurched up the stairs, not even bothering to avoid the one that had a tendency to slide it's splinters into your foot, nor the one who's creaking sounded akin to the screams coming from upstairs. As he drunkenly pushed open the trap door to the attic, he heard one last blood curdling scream, before all went silent.

It was so quiet, he almost swore that he could hear the specks of dust as they drifted through the air, only to land on the already coated floor. He hadn't been up here in a long time. In fact, the last person who had been up here had been... Adelaide.

Shaking his head as if to empty out the thoughts that threatened to cluster there, he gently closed the trap door again and carefully, although still rather clumsily, made his way back to the floor. He re-traced his well-worn track through the hallway and was once again in the living room, where he had left that girl. Emily. The only difference was that Emily was, now, nowhere to be found. The only trace of her was a cream-white sweater that had been hastily removed upon entering the room. Amidst a flurry of kissing and the warm buzz that always accompanied his fourth beer, they had barely noticed the arrayment of outer garments that they had strewn across the floor.

Confused, maybe, but mostly just wanting to get back to the hot feeling in his stomach that he had so desperately missed feeling since... Adelaide... he stumbled to the front door, pulling it open. He found Emily seated by the curb, scrolling through something on her phone, screen turned dim in the pale glow of the streetlight. "What are you doin' out here?" he slurred.

"Gettin' a cab. Goin' home." she replied, sleepily, not bothering to look up from whatever was on her phone.

"Why?"