The Devil in the Form of Those That Follow: Lethiferous

CHAPTER TWO

TW: Harassment, Hints at Abuse, Threats

"No matter how much we try and try..."

Lana's eyes slowly opened to reveal Greg attempting to cook and Lance and Beatrix arguing. She pushed away from Tommy to discover he was passed out like a log and snoring a bit. She slowly got up from him and stretched. Her eyes were still hurting from the crying she did yesterday. She went over to Lance and Beatrix and slapped Lance in the back of the head.

"I don't know why you two are fighting, but I'm guessing Lance started it," Lana said in a tired tone.

"Yeah, you're right," Beatrix hissed in a sassy tone. Lance then tried to say something, only to be mocked by Beatrix. Then Greg screamed and ran out of the kitchen and into his chair.

"That omelet is breathing man," he said while clutching the sides of the chair. Beatrix went over to inspect it.

"It's literally just bubbling because YOU MANAGED TO MAKE IT A SOUP!" she hollered back, "How does someone do this?" she whispered to herself, poking the liquid with a spatula.

"I'll help," Lance walked over to the frying pan and bumped Beatrix out of the way with his hip, taking the spatula from her hand.

"I can do this on my own, for your information," Beatrix snapped back.

They usually bickered a lot when it came to a simple task. One time, when Beatrix was trying to paint some kind of painting as a gift to Lana, Lance would take some of her paint and put a small smudge on the canvas when he was invited around. Nearly every time, she caught him and she ended up chasing him all around the apartment. One particular time, she was able to lock him in the bathroom and left him in there for six hours. The only reason he didn't pick it was because he was scared to get locked in another room. But, despite the small fights, they at least seemed to be decent friends. At least when their personalities didn't clash.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Lance replied in a sarcastic tone while holding the spatula on his hip. He turned off the stove and gave the omelet a disgusted look. Beatrix's eyes widened. She ran into the living room for her phone and hurried to text Mrs. Rosie, telling her she wouldn't be in the shop today.

She let out a sigh of relief. "Now I don't," She walked back over, first placing her phone on the square dining table then walking to Lance and bumping him over, "Go on, I can fix it."

Lance rolled his eyes.

"I bet you never cooked an omelet in your life," He crossed his arms across his chest.

"And I guess you have?" She copied his body movement. She scoffed at his silence. "Yeah, that's what I thought. But, since you're standing there doing nothing, can you grab me some plates?" Lance laughed.

"Funny. I thought you could do this yourself," he said. Beatrix looked over at him with an eyebrow cocked up.

"Dude, you're right there beside them," she snapped. He sighed and turned around and grabbed five white plates. He placed them on the counter beside the stove. "Thank you," she said sarcastically. They both stared at each other for a minute, not breaking eye contact.

"While you two are making love with your eyes over there, could you make something else, too. Apparently Mr. Gordon Ramsey over here doesn't even like eggs," Lana said while sitting on the couch and pointing at Greg.

"Why did you make an omelet then?" Beatrix asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

"I looked up breakfast foods and that came up," Greg replied.

Lana grabbed her phone, half scared there were texts half confident there were no texts. Luckily, she had none. All she wanted was the time. 9:14 am.