"Bells, which only sound for the fortunate" [Part 1]

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"Dad? You there?"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry, I think the signal's getting weaker. Did you find it?"

"Yup! I mean if you meant the purple ones."

"Yeah, good. Wait, one more thing."

"What is it?"

"My makeup box, just in case."

"And where would that be?"

"I'm not sure, but it should be either in the bedside table or the left closet."

Hugo opened the bedside table, but it was empty. When he checked the closet, there were two boxes. He couldn't tell which of them was the right one.

"There are two boxes," he said to the phone.

"Wait, what do the- y lo- k- i-ke-"

"Dad? Is everything okay?"
(Oh, right.. he probably doesn't have signal anymore..)

He took both of the boxes and put them inside of Rave's suitcase. It was so full of things he considered unnecessary, he almost couldn't close it.

...

"Fuck!"

Jessica smirked.

"Told ya not to shave your legs while on the phone. And in a car. What even happened?"

"I lost signal."

"And why's that something to freak out about? Didn't you already tell him everything?"

"Well.. yeah but.."
(Oh shit what now..)

"What if I forgot something? That could totally ruin everything! What if I forgot to tell him about something important?"

Rave tried to speak while hissing in pain whilst trying to patch up the deep cut he made on his shin.

"Rave, I already took care of everything. You chose me for this job and I'm not planning to fail you. And hey, we're even going there a little earlier, by the plan. Everything will be fine. Better than fine. Tomorrow will be the best day of your lives. I promise."

"Jess.. I don't wanna say I don't trust you.. it's just- I'm worried-" he screeched and pressed the leg against his chest.

"Does it really hurt that much? We can stop if you want," she looked at him with worry in her eyes.

"Yeah.. if you could.."

They stopped at a nearby gas station. Rave went to the bathroom to wash off the blood while Jessica bought a few plasters. They sat down in the car and Jessica started patching up his wound.

"How can a razor blade even cut this deep? It almost looks like you did it on purpose."

She was trying to look away from the almost centimeter deep, bloody cut while also attempting to place the plaster on the right spot.

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