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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 8, 2005 20:09:25 GMT -5
Is it really that good? But I'm working on the next part. I have no life, so I spend a lot of time writing this kind of stuff.
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Post by Kill on Jun 8, 2005 20:36:00 GMT -5
I like it. And it matters if I am happy or not, lol. No really, its fantastic! ;D
BTW, I sent you a private message!
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 8, 2005 22:01:16 GMT -5
How many parts is this? Twelve maybe?
“Do you wanna stay at my house?”<br> The offer was rather abrupt, popping up out of nowhere. Tre and I stood in front of the studio, watching the sun set. It was really beautiful, really romantic. Billie had just left, and Mike was giving the rehearsal room the once over to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything important. “What?” I asked, looking at Tre. He was leaning against a large concrete pole, his eyes half closed, kind of watching the sunset. I glanced at the gauze, which, surprisingly, wasn’t soaked with blood. His injury seemed to be getting better. “You could stay at my house,” he said. “I mean, you could help me make sure I don’t do any of the things I’m not supposed to. Plus, if I pass out from blood loss or something, you’d be there to make sure I was okay or to get me to a hospital.”<br> “I don’t know,” I said, a little unsure of the whole idea. I mean, it was only the previous day that I had met the man. But still, I had spent the night at his house and practically lost my boyfriend over him. He seemed to be a pretty big factor in my life. “Come on,” he pleaded. “Just for a week or so. Until Claudia gets back.” He made a sad face at me. My heart nearly popped out of my chest at the cute face. “Okay, I guess so.” I smiled. “But just for a week. Then I’m going back home.”<br> Tre smiled. “Okay,” he nodded. “Mike will drive you to your apartment and you can get your stuff, then we’ll head to my house.” He had obviously been planning this in his head for a while. “Sounds like a plan,” I laughed as Mike stepped out of the building. “What’s a plan?” Mike asked. “Vicky’s gonna stay at my house for a while, so we’re gonna stop at her house and get her stuff, then we’re going to my house,” Tre said. “Um, okay,” Mike nodded, then headed toward his car. Tre and I followed close behind. I climbed into the backseat and Tre sat next to me. “You know, one of you could sit in the front,” Mike suggested. “I’m fine,” Tre said. He looked at me. It was obvious that now that I was single, I was Tre’s next victim, er, target. But I had no problem with that. Tre had been my celebrity crush for years, and finally winning him would be amazing. We sat in silence the entire way to my apartment, interrupted occasionally by me saying, “Turn here” or “Go left up at that light.” That was when I felt his hand slowly brush up against mine. I looked down and there was Tre’s hand, so close to mine that I could hardly keep myself from grabbing it and intertwining fingers. I looked up at him and he just smiled, not saying anything. I felt like a giddy schoolgirl. That was the only way to describe my emotions. “Mind if we come up to visit?” Mike asked as he pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. “It’s a mess, but sure, whatever,” I said. The two climbed out of the car behind me, following me through the lobby, into the elevator, to the fifth floor and down the hall. I unlocked my door, pressing a finger to my lips to hush them, then led the two inside. “Vicky? Is that you?” Romy called from her room. “Yeah,” I responded. “I’m not going to be here long. I’m just gonna pack up some stuff and then I’m headed out on a vacation.” Tre looked at me and mouthed the word “vacation”, but I just shrugged. “Where are you going?” she asked, sounding kind of panicky. Her voice grew louder and I could tell she was coming to see me in the living room. I smiled as she turned the corner. Almost as if it was planned, she wore nothing but her old Chinese bathrobe, and no makeup. Her hair was a mess, and she almost dropped her glass of whatever it was she was drinking on the floor. “OH…MY…GOD…” she panted, blinking furiously at Mike. She was a Green Day fan as well (how could I live with someone who doesn’t like Green Day?), but was particularly a fan of Mike. She had a big picture of his face plastered on her bedroom door (kind of like I did with Tre, only mine was about half the size of her picture). “You…” she whispered, pointing at Mike. “Was coming in a bad idea?” Mike whispered to me. “Um,” I started my sentence, but was interrupted by Romy again. “Mike…you’re…Mike Dirnt,” she whispered. Mike just nodded. “Oh my God.” She paused for a second. “Oh my God, I look like hell.” She pressed a hand to her face and gasped. “You probably think I’m the ugliest girl you’ve ever met,” she sighed, looking like she was about to cry. “Romy, calm down,” I said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not ugly. Don’t even say that.”<br> “But…but…he’s Mike. He probably sees girls millions of times more pretty than me. Meeting him just makes me feel like a loser for having a crush on him for all these years,” she said. She was talking about him like he wasn’t standing right in front of her. I just looked at him kind of apologetically. “Let me guess,” Romy whined. “You came here so you can go on some sort of romantic vacation with Mike or something. You’re gonna get married. That would just be the icing on the fucking cake.”<br> “Romy,” I sighed. “In case you didn’t notice, Tre’s here too. He hurt himself and I’m going to stay with him until Claudia comes back into town.”<br> “Tre?” she whispered as she looked up at him. “I didn’t recognize him with the bandage. How did you meet the guys? What all went on?”<br> “Long story,” I sighed. That was my explanation for everything, especially when I didn’t particularly want to explain. “Tre can fill you in while I go pack.” I smirked at him as I retreated to my bedroom. I dug through my closet for my suitcase and duffle bag. I went around stuffing things into them. Toothbrushes, hair supplies, eyeliner, concealer, a random assortment of T-shirts and jeans, etc. Tre came in a few minutes later. “So this is your room,” he murmured as he threw himself onto my bed. “Do you knock?” I asked. He just shrugged, then continued lounging on my bed. I started packing my underwear, and almost as soon as I had opened the underwear drawer, Tre was hovering over my shoulder. “You’re bringing these, right?” he asked, lifting up a black thong with pink lace decorating the front. “Of course,” I laughed. “Along with the matching top and garter belt.” I produced the two items from the drawer, and watched as Tre’s eyes bulged from his head. “Are you serious?” Tre asked hopefully. “Eh, why not?” I mumbled, stuffing them into my suitcase. A fiendish grin spread across Tre’s face. “What makes you think you’ll ever see them outside of that suitcase?” I asked, and the smile disappeared. I just laughed. “Shit,” Tre suddenly whispered. “I left Mike alone with that Romy chick.”<br> “You’d better go out there and make sure he’s still alive,” I laughed as Tre rushed out of the room. I soon finished up packing and toted my bags into the living room, where Romy appeared to be telling Mike her life story as Tre went through my kitchen. “NO DRINKING!” I called to Tre. “Damn it!” came his reply. I couldn’t help but laugh.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 8, 2005 22:41:09 GMT -5
PART 13
“Thanks, Mike,” I said as he backed out of Tre’s driveway. Mike waved out the window and disappeared down the street. Tre and I stood there, watching him until we good no longer see his car. “Good. Now that Mike’s gone, we can go inside and fuck each other’s brains out,” Tre laughed. I exploded into a fit of hysterics. “Sounds like an easy job for me,” I joked. Tre placed his hand on his chest and gave me more or less the same look that Billie had given me when I had said that Green Day was “practically my favorite band”. “Fine, then. No sex for you,” Tre said, opening the front door. “And you’ll have to carry your own fucking bags inside,” he snapped. I stood there, still laughing at Tre’s pretend anger. Finally, I regained composure long enough to carry my bags inside. “So, where am I sleeping?” I asked as I shut the front door behind me. “There’s a room right up the stairs, to the left,” he said. “The guest room, if you don’t feel like sharing a room with me.”<br> “Not quite yet,” I smiled, toting my bags up the stairs. I opened the door, and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. There was a large canopy bed, with a white quilt and tons of pillows in different shades of black. The entire color scheme of the room was black and white. It reminded me of London in the 60’s. You know, that whole “mod” thing. That’s what it reminded me of. There was no way Tre decorated this. I got a mental image of Tre explaining to some decorator exactly what he wanted the room to look like. I laughed, then set the suitcase next to the bed. The best part of the whole ordeal was the large bay window across from the door. It overlooked all these trees, and I could see the remains of the sunset. I turned on a lamp at the desk, then left the room. “That’s a really cool room,” I commented to Tre as I bounded down the stairs. “Yeah,” he smiled. “When Frankito’s around, he hangs out there a lot. He likes the window.”<br> “So do I,” I smiled. “Hell, I would buy this house off of you just for that window.”<br> Tre laughed. “So, what do you want to do?” he asked, leaning against a wall and folding his arms expectantly. “I don’t care,” I shrugged. “How about truth or dare?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. “God, I haven’t played truth or dare in years,” I laughed. “Like, seriously, not since sophomore year.”<br> “Then this should be fun,” Tre smiled, then grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me over to the couch I had fallen asleep on the night before. “Okay, you pick first. Truth or dare?” His eyes lit up as he said “dare.”<br> “Truth,” I said. He looked slightly disappointed. “Hmmm,” Tre thought for a moment, caressing his chin. “Okay, do you think I’m sexy?”<br> “That’s a stupid question,” I giggled. “But yes. Of course.”<br> “Damn, that was too easy,” he whispered. “Well, too late now. Truth or dare?”<br> “Dare,” he smiled. “I dare you, to strip for me.” There was a moment of silence where we both stared at each other for a few seconds before exploding into a fit of hysterical laughter. “I’ll do it,” he decided. He then stood up and walked over to his stereo. He fiddled with it for a few seconds before slow jazz began to pour from it. I couldn’t help but laugh. I laughed so hard, I started to cry. “How far do I have to strip?” he asked. “All the way? Or just to my underwear?”<br> “Just to your underwear,” I said. He made a sad face, but continued for me, slowly pulling his shirt off over his head. I whistled as loud as I could. He started removing the belt. To be perfectly honest, I was getting really turned on. I watched him as he practically shook off his pants. I dug through my purse and produced a $10 bill. He laughed, then walked over to the couch. I snapped the bill in the elastic waist of his underwear. “Ow,” he laughed. “What happened to all that dominated love slave bull if you can’t even take a snapping elastic waistband?” I asked. He just chuckled. Then the phone rang. I rolled my eyes. Whoever it was just had to interrupt the moment. Tre scrambled over to the phone. “Hello? Oh, hey Billie.” Tre looked over at me and just shrugged. “The music? No, you weren’t interrupting anything. Not really, anyway. Hell, I just met her yesterday. What’s your point? What do you mean, why am I in my underwear? How would you know if I was in my underwear?” I looked up at Tre and watched the expression change from confusion to a look of anger. He dropped the phone, walked over to the front door and opened it. “Billie, get the fuck away from my house.”<br> “Sorry,” Billie laughed. He leaned in the door. “Hey, Vicky,” he laughed. “Go home, Billie,” Tre said, sounding genuinely pissed off. “Sorry,” he apologized again. Then he disappeared. Tre muttered something under his breath and returned to the couch. “That was hilarious,” I laughed. “What was Billie doing here, anyway?” I asked. “He and Mike have an ongoing bet to see how long it takes me to get you in bed,” Tre chuckled. “What?” I asked, my eyes growing wide. Ordinarily, I would’ve slapped him across the face for saying that, but I felt like I was starting a new chapter of my life. Tim was no longer a part of my life, and now Tre was. So why try so hard to make everything perfect when things were a lot more fun being, well, not perfect? “I don’t know,” he sighed. “They’re jackasses.”<br> “No kidding,” I smiled. “Can I have my $10 back?”<br> “Only if you get it yourself,” Tre laughed, then jumped up from the couch and ran towards the stairs. I followed close behind. I had been on the track team back in high school; one of the fastest in my division. So I caught up to him quite quickly. I nearly tackled him, landing on top of him on the floor. “Well,” he smirked at me. “This is an awkward position.”<br> “Eh, I’ve been in worse,” I said. “Ever try fucking in a bathroom stall?”<br> “Ew,” Tre laughed. I smiled at him, and found myself not moving from on top of him. The funny part was that it wasn’t even uncomfortable, laying there like that. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. And suddenly it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 8, 2005 23:08:12 GMT -5
PART 14
After making out for almost an hour on the floor in the hallway, Tre and I had made the way to his bedroom, which was twice the size of the guestroom, which was pretty decently sized. He pinned me to the bed and made weird growling noises as he kissed my neck and slowly made his way down my chest and to my stomach. It was then that he started to unbutton my pants. “Tre,” I started, pulling away a bit. He sat up, looking at me. He knew what was coming. I didn’t even have to tell him. “I know, you just got out of a relationship earlier today,” he said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I’m such an idiot.”<br> “No, you’re not,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him. “Besides, do you think it would do your head any good to be screwing around?”<br> “Not the head on my shoulders,” he laughed. I smiled. “I guess I should probably go to sleep,” I said. “Do you have to work tomorrow?” he asked before starting to kiss my neck again. “That tickles,” I laughed. “But no, I don’t. I only work Monday through Friday.”<br> “That’s good,” he said. “I’m going to bed, remember,” I giggled. “Right,” he said, pulling away a bit. I slipped off his bed, gave him a bit of a seductive wave, then retreated to the guestroom. I pulled off my clothes and climbed into the bed. Normally, I wore an old T-shirt or something to sleep in, but I was so tired, I didn’t even feel like changing. I fell asleep a few seconds later. I woke up at about 9:30 the next morning. The light filtered in through the huge window and spilled across the room. I sat up, yawning and stretching. I didn’t even seem surprised that I wasn’t in my own home. For some reason, I felt comfortable here. I tumbled out of the bed, grabbing my bag of toiletries and tossing on a robe. I headed to the nearest bathroom, a mere two doors down the hallway, and turned on the shower. The shower was enormous, but I should’ve expected such things staying in the house of the drummer of one of the greatest rock bands of the time. I pulled my shampoo, washcloth, soap, razor, etc. out of my bag and tugged them into the shower with me. After washing my hair, washing my body, shaving my legs, and doing other shower-like things, I turned off the water and reached out for the towel. Damn it. I had no towel. “TRE!” I screamed. “TRE! COME HERE A SECOND!” I stood there, shivering, and praying that he could hear me. “TRE!” I called again. “What?” he asked, popping open the door. “Oh, you’re in the shower. Need me to get your back?” He arched an eyebrow seductively. I clung to the shower curtain. “No, I just need a towel.”<br> “Say the magic words,” Tre laughed. “Tre, get me a fucking towel or I will make it so you’ll never have children again,” I said, my voice very serious. “Those aren’t the magic words, but they word too,” he laughed, disappearing and returning with two navy blue towels. “Here,” he said. “You’re lucky I found them. I hardly knew where we kept the fucking towels.”<br> “Thanks,” I said, wrapping the towel around myself. I stepped out of the shower and started dabbing my hair with the other towel. “What?” I asked, noticing Tre was watching me. “Nothing,” he said, then disappeared around the corner into his room. I strode out of the bathroom, dragging my toiletries behind me, and went back into the guestroom. I got dressed in front of the huge window, wondering if anyone could see me all the while. I pulled on a plain black tee and a pair of old shorts, which had once been pants but I cut off the legs. I let my hair hang around my shoulders, since I wasn’t in any hurry today to look pretty. I honestly didn’t think it mattered to Tre how my hair looked. I grabbed my purse off the couch (I had left it there the night before) and looked at my cell phone. 4 missed calls, and 3 messages. I listened to the messages. The first message was my mother. “Honey, I was wondering when you were going to come up and visit. I mean, I miss you, and you promised you would visit over the summer. So here it is, summer already. I just need some plans of yours so I don’t schedule my own vacation over it. Give me a call sometime after five if you can. Love you, honey. Bye.”<br> I erased the message, then listened to the next one. As soon as I heard the voice, chills went up my spin. And not the good kind either. “I’m going to find out who you cheated on me with, and you’re going to wish you had never cheated on me.”<br> That was the end of that message. I saved it, then listened to the next message. It was Romy. “Vicky, Tim just called here and sounded very pissed off. What happened with you guys?”<br> I erased her message, then leaned back against the couch. What was Tim going to do? My heart pounded in my ears. “Damn it,” I whispered. “Why do these things always happen to me?”
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 8, 2005 23:24:09 GMT -5
PART 15
“What’s going on?” Tre asked as he came down the steps. He looked concerned. Hell, I would too if I came down my stairs and saw some girl sobbing her heart out and staring at her cell phone. “Nothing,” I cried. “Don’t give me that,” he said. “Something’s wrong. I mean, hell, you’re crying like crazy.” He sat next to me and slipped his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t touch me. If you touch me, he’ll fucking kill you.”<br> “Who?” Tre’s eyes widened and I could tell that what I had just said probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say. “Tim,” I almost whispered, kind of like I was afraid someone would hear me. “He left a message on my phone. Here, listen to it.” I handed the phone to Tre. As he listened to the message, I saw a few creases appear on his brow. “I’m calling the police,” he said as soon as he had finished listening to the message. “Tre,” I started, but he wasn’t listening. He had already gotten up and gone to the phone. I wasn’t going to stop him. If he could save himself and get Tim out of my life, both in one, then I wanted him to. I listened to the murmuring of him on the phone with the police. “What’s Tim’s last name?” he called. “McHowen,” I said softly. I clung to one of the pillows on Tre’s couch. “Tim McHowen,” I heard Tre say. “Yes, we have the message saved. Okay. I won’t go anywhere.”<br> “He’s going to kill you, Tre,” I said as he came into the living room, no longer on the phone. I felt like I was in a bad horror movie. You know, the little child giving the warning that nobody ever listens to, telling people that their going to die. And nobody believes them until a few seconds before their gruesome fate. I didn’t want for that to be the situation. “The police will take care of it, Vicky,” he said, pulling me close and planting a kiss on my forehead. “Promise me you’ll watch out,” I whispered. “Everywhere you go, you never know. He could be there.”<br> “Calm down, would ya?” Tre laughed a bit. “You’re starting to make me nervous. Did this Tim guy ever hit you or anything?”<br> “No,” I said, forgetting about one time when he had been extremely drunk and I had hit him first. I never counted that time. “Then why would you have any reason to believe that he would kill somebody?” he asked, pushing me away so he could look me in the eye. “Because Tim always keeps his word. Always.” It was kind of scary how everything Tim said he would do, he did. If he was to be somewhere at 10:30, he was there at 10:30, not 10:29 or 10:31. If he was going to fix something, he did it. He never made up excuses. Never. And that drove me crazy. But he had said he was going to make me sorry I had ever cheated on him. Even though I hadn’t, I figured the only way he could do that was to take Tre away from me. It was then that there was a knock on the door. “Let me get it,” I whispered to Tre, and walked slowly to the door. “Please don’t be Tim,” I prayed. “Please don’t be Tim.”<br> I reached out and grabbed the doorknob, eyes closed, kind of afraid of what I might see on the other side of that door.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 8, 2005 23:47:48 GMT -5
PART 16
“Ma’am?”<br> I opened my eyes. Standing in front of me was a tall, balding police officer. I exhaled slowly, relieved that it wasn’t Tim, as I had been almost positive it would be. “Wow, you get here fast,” I said, looking from the police officer to Tre, who stood on the other side of the room, staring at me kind of like I was crazy. “I was in the neighborhood, and I got a call to come here and question you about a Tim McHowen,” the officer said. “Yes, sir,” Tre said walking up and pulling me aside, allowing the officer in. “He called Vicky here and left a message on her cell phone. More of a threat than a message, actually.”<br> The officer nodded. “Can I hear this message?” he asked. I nodded, then went to my purse and got my cell phone. I called the message up and handed the phone over to the officer. My phone, being rather small, was difficult for him to hold, but he managed to awkwardly position it next to his ear. “I may have to borrow this phone from you for a while, ma’am,” he said to me. “I have to transfer it to a recording tape, since it may otherwise erase itself.” I nodded. “I’m going to have to ask you a few questions about him.”<br> I sat down next to the cop on the couch. He pulled out a notepad and asked me a few basic questions like my name, Tim’s address, and a description of him. Then he started asking me the personal questions. I watched him write all this down. The questions were basic, but my answers…not so much. “How did you know Mr. McHowen?”<br> “He was my boyfriend.”<br> “Was?”<br> “Yeah, we broke up yesterday.”<br> “Because you cheated on him?”<br> “I didn’t cheat on him. He only thought I did. And I more or less broke up with him because he didn’t believe me.”<br> “And why would he believe that you were cheating on him?”<br> “Well, I hadn’t been spending a lot of time with him recently, plus I hadn’t been home the night before.”<br> “Where were you?”<br> “Here.”<br> “Where did he think you were?”<br> “My apartment.”<br> “And why were you here?”<br> “Well, I had taken Tre to the hospital, and I came here kind of to watch him and make sure he wasn’t doing anything he wasn’t supposed to, like drinking, and I kind of fell asleep.”<br> “And he didn’t believe you when you told him that?”<br> “Not at all.”<br> “So he left this message on your phone?”<br> “Obviously.”<br> “Has he ever met Tre before?”<br> “Probably not.”<br> “Are there any ways he would connect the two of you?”<br> “Well, when he asked where I had been, I told him Tre’s house. Plus, my roommate met them last night and she knows I’m staying with Tre for the next couple of weeks. She probably doesn’t know that Tim and I aren’t together. I’m kind of afraid she might tell him where I am.”<br> “Well, I recommend you call her while I question Tre.”<br> I nodded, then grabbed Tre’s phone and ducked into a separate area of the house. “Hello?” Romy answered the phone. “Hey. Listen, I should probably tell you about what’s going on with me and Tim.”<br> “Why, of course, Mom. I would love that recipe,” her voice chirped. “What? Romy, this is Vicky. And what recipe?”<br> “How many eggs? Really? Only four?”<br> It suddenly hit me. Someone was there. She couldn’t talk. “Who’s there?” I asked, hoping I remembered the code that she and I used to use back in high school, when our moms were in the room. “Fried chicken,” she said. “Fried chicken,” I repeated. “Oh my God. Tim’s there. Are you in danger?”<br> “Yes. I have lots of broth.”<br> “There’s a police officer here. Should I send him over?” I asked, frantic. “Yes, I think that would be best. After all, if you put it in the oven too long, it’ll burn.”<br> “He’ll be over soon. Don’t let Tim leave.”<br> “How do you recommend I dress the chicken?”<br> Crap. I couldn’t remember what that was code for. So I took a wild stab in the dark. “If he wants to know anything, just imply that you know something, but don’t really tell him anything. If you think he’s going to kill you, tell him that I’m with Tre. Tell him whatever you have to. We’ll leave.”<br> “Sounds good, Mom,” she said. “I’ll have to try that sometime. Maybe when I test it out you could come over?”<br> “Thank you so much, Romy. I feel so bad about this. I had no fucking clue that Tim was psycho like this.”<br> “Alright, Mom. Love you. Bye now.”<br> “Bye, Romy,” I whispered, then ran into the living room. “Officer,” I said, interrupting his questioning with Tre. The two of them looked at me. “Tim’s at my apartment now. He’s threatening my roommate.”
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 9, 2005 0:09:57 GMT -5
PART 17
“We have to leave,” I said to Tre almost as soon as the police officer left. “But he told us to stay here,” Tre said. “If we stay here, Tim will come find us. Oh my God, Tre. I’m so sorry I got you into all this.” I started shaking and crying. “Stop crying,” Tre whispered, pulling me close. “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be alright. Trust me.”<br> “I wish I could,” I sobbed. “But I don’t believe you.”<br> “If you’d feel better if we left, we’ll leave,” Tre said. “Grab your suitcase and stuff. We’re going to Billie’s.”<br> “That’s the first place he’d look for you,” I said, trying to think of someplace Tre and I could hide out. “The security around Billie’s place is fantastic. He couldn’t get in there if he tried,” Tre promised. “We’ll just stay there a night. Then we’ll go to Mike’s. Then we’ll stay somewhere else.”<br> “We’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde,” I laughed. “But what happens when you have to start touring?”<br> “We’re not touring for a while,” Tre sighed. “Hell, we’re still rehearsing to record. By the time we have to tour, they’ll have Tim behind bars. I guarantee it.”<br> I just nodded and acted as though I could believe all this would eventually get better, but I knew better. I had learned when I was nine years old and my dad died of cancer that things didn’t always get better. My family more or less fell into a bottomless pit after that. Things never got better. When they got bad, they had a tendency to stay bad. I rushed up the steps and grabbed my still-mostly-packed suitcase and toiletry bag. I dragged them down the steps. “What about you?” I asked. “Don’t worry about me,” Tre said, although I knew that was a stupid thing to say. I was going to worry about Tre no matter what. We rushed out the door. “I’m not supposed to drive, and neither are you,” I said, looking at the car. “Fuck the doctor’s orders,” Tre said. “But I’d rather you drive. If you get dizzy, pull over and we’ll switch.”<br> I nodded, then climbed into the driver’s seat. He handed me the keys. I started the ignition and the two of us were off. He gave me directions while calling Billie on his cell to explain the situation and tell him we were coming to his house. “Like hell you are,” I could hear Billie scream. “I have kids and a family. I have to protect them. If you’re being pursued by a murderer, then you better find another place.”<br> “Please,” Tre pleaded. “Just for tonight.”<br> “Fine, but only for tonight,” Billie said. “First thing tomorrow, you two are out of here.”<br> “Thank you so much,” Tre said, then hung up. “Can I use your phone?” I asked. Tre nodded, then handed the cell to me. I subconsciously dialed my number. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally, someone answered. But it wasn’t Romy. Luckily, it wasn’t Tim either. It was the police officer. “Officer, is Romy there?” I asked. “She’s on her way down to the hospital,” he said. “What? What happened?”<br> “She was shot. Bullet just barely missed her heart. There’s a good chance that if she makes it, she’ll come out of it a paraplegic.”<br> “Oh my God,” I whispered. “Did you get Tim?”<br> “No, he left before I got here.”<br> “Of course,” I said, my heart pounding. “I should’ve figured.”<br> “I recommend you and Tre leave the house as soon as possible.”<br> “Consider it done,” I said, then hung up. “What happened?” Tre asked. “He shot Romy.” I blinked at the road ahead of me. “That stupid fucker shot Romy.”<br> “Is she okay?” Tre asked. “The bullet just missed her heart,” I said, trying not to cry. “She’s probably going to paralyzed if she survives at all.”<br> “Oh my God,” Tre whispered. I could tell he was scared now. And he had every right to be.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 9, 2005 0:33:38 GMT -5
This part might not make a whole lot of sense, since I'm really tired.
PART 18
Billie didn’t tell his kids about what was going on, which I guess was good. I wouldn’t want to scare my kids (if I had any), by telling them that their godfather and his friend were being pursued by a crazed possible murderer. He showed Tre and I to the guestroom that we had to share and asked us not to say anything to his kids about what was going on. We agreed. I mostly stayed in the guestroom, crying and thinking about all I had put Tre through. I couldn’t imagine having my life put in danger for someone I had only met a day ago and probably didn’t even love. But he would never say, “Vicky, I don’t love you.” I could then go find Tim and tell him Tre’s exact location. That was probably the only reason Tre was even treating me so well. Tre came into the guestroom occasionally to make sure I was okay and to see if I needed anything. I would just tell him I was fine, then would curl up into a little ball and sob. I missed my family. Even though we had never been the perfect family, we were still a family, with Mom and Dad constantly yelling at each other, my brother listening to his music really loud, me always yelling about how stupid my family was. Then my dad died, and the arguing ceased. My brother killed himself, and the music stopped. It was just me and my mom. Once I moved out, I could only imagine how lonely it got for Mom. She was probably sitting at home, knitting or doing some other mundane motherly task, not even knowing about all that was going on with Tim. How I longed to have the same obliviousness. My cell phone was still back at Tre’s house, sitting on his couch, next to the police officer’s notepad, so I finally picked up Billie’s phone and dialed a number I knew so well, a number I hadn’t dialed in years, but knew by heart. “Suicide help hotline,” the cheery voice on the other end chirped. I found it amusing how happy the people working there seemed. “Hello. Is Kayla there?” I asked. “Please hold,” the voice responded. “Hello?” said a different voice. “Kayla? It’s Vicky.”<br> “Holy shit. Vicky, how are you?” Kayla practically screamed. “I’m not so great,” I sighed. “You willing to listen?”<br> “That’s my job,” she said, and I could almost hear the smile in her voice. As I sat there and told her everything, from meeting Tre to escaping to Billie’s, I remembered back when my brother first died. I discovered the phone number scrawled on a piece of paper in his room. I had called it the first time just to find out what it was the number to. I called again later when I first started cutting myself, and they referred me to Kayla a “self-mutilation specialist”. I thought it was funny that not all the people working at the suicide hotline were considered such. I would find myself calling Kayla all the time, telling her about my woes and sorrows. I had stopped calling when I went off to college, and here I was, calling again. “No fucking way,” she whispered as I finished. “What are you gonna do?”<br> “I have no idea,” I cried. “I mean, not only is all this going on, but I really think I’m falling for Tre. I really, truly do.”<br> “Honey, saving his life would be the first thing on my mind right now. Not whether or not I want to sleep with him,” she said. “I know,” I whispered. “But deep down, I feel like that’s my big concern. Whether or not I love him.”<br> “Well, whether you do or not, he still deserves to live, so do whatever it takes to keep him alive,” she said. “That’s what I would do, but you know, I’m not you.”<br> “Yeah,” I agreed, nodding although she couldn’t see me. “Thanks for listening, Kayla.”<br> “No problem,” she said, then hung up. I sat there, phone in hand, for a couple seconds before placing the phone back in it’s cradle. I didn’t feel like crying anymore. I stood up and left the room, heading into the living room where Tre sat with Billie. Tre looked nervous and Billie looked agitated. “How are you feeling?” Tre asked as I sat next to him. “Never better,” I lied. I leaned forward and kissed him. “If this is your idea of never better, than I’d like to see your bad day,” Billie mumbled. I smiled a little. What was wrong with me? Why did everything suddenly seem fine? The feeling in my gut started to lift just a little, and I leaned on Tre. “Don’t worry, be happy,” I sang. “I think she’s stoned,” Billie said, and I just laughed. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. Really, I do.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 9, 2005 0:53:53 GMT -5
PART 19
I went to sleep a few hours before Tre, but woke as he climbed into the bed next to me. You’d think that the frontman for Green Day would have more than one guestroom, but I guess not. I just lay there, listening to Tre toss and turn in the bed beside me. I then felt his arm slip around my waist. His chest pressed against my back and I heard him whisper, “I love you, Vicky.”<br> I sat bolt upright in the bed, my skull smacking into Tre’s nose. “Ow,” he snapped, clutching at his now bleeding nose. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said, turning on a lamp and looking at his nose. “Oh, poor baby. Are you okay?”<br> “Yeah. But what happened with you. You just jumped up.”<br> “Did you say you loved me?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said, sounding rather sheepish about it. “Why?” I asked. Stupid question. “Because I think I do,” he whispered. “You think? Why say it if you’re not sure?” I asked as he clutched some tissues for his bleeding nose. “I don’t know. I just really think I do. A whole lot. In fact, I’m pretty certain I do love you.”<br> “I think I love you, too,” I said, then leaned forward to kiss him. “Oh, right, bloody nose,” I said, backing away. He looked disappointed and started to dab at it some more. “I might be a dangerous girl to love,” I sighed. “No kidding. Even if I didn’t love you, I’d still have this guy on my tails.”<br> “Tails? You have more than one?” I joked. “You know what I mean,” he said. “Is my nose still bleeding?” he asked, removing the tissues. “Not really,” I said. “Now, where was I?” I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. He leaned into me, making a noise that kind of sounded like purring. I laughed, then leaned back. He kissed my neck some more, something he knew I enjoyed, but this time I let him go further. As Tre kissed my stomach, I started laughing furiously. It was then that I heard Billie scream, “WILL YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF IN THERE? SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!” Tre and I laughed, but tried to stifle it. “Okay,” I whispered. “That’s enough for tonight.”<br> “Damn,” Tre laughed, then climbed into bed next to me. I turned off the lights and the two of us lay there, nuzzling each other in the comfort of the soft sheets until we fell asleep in each others arms. When I woke up the next morning, Tre was getting dressed by the window. I watched him silently pull his shirt on, but I said nothing, hoping he wouldn’t notice me watching. But he did. He spun around and smiled at me. “If you’re gonna shower, you better do it soon. Billie wants us out in an hour and a half.” I nodded at him grabbed my toiletries bag and headed into the bathroom. The shower was nice, with the exception that Joey walked in on me at one point. He made sure to run downstairs and tell daddy that he had seen a naked woman, something Billie made sure to tell Tre. “My son is moving in on your woman,” Billie laughed, but Tre didn’t find it funny. I got dressed in a hurry. We grabbed some Pop Tarts, then said goodbye to Billie. He and Tre nodded at each other like they had some kind of secret understanding about something. We got into the car and I drove to Mike’s house. Mike apparently knew we were coming, since Tre had called him the night before. I used Tre’s cell phone to call the police and see if they had recently arrested anyone named Tim. Of course, they hadn’t. They did, however, have several counts of breaking and entering in the houses around Tre’s house, and in Tre’s house as well. I told Tre about this. He looked incredibly pissed off, but said nothing. We just drove in silence. Neither of us knew what was going to happen next, or even if we were safe. We could only hope.
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Post by Kill on Jun 11, 2005 17:19:57 GMT -5
AW! I love this! It's coming along SO nicely. You're very good at describing scenes and stuff! Keep it up. Oh, and I noticed the purring part like in The New Kids. Hehehe. Tre will forever keep that trait, real or not.
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 11, 2005 19:46:25 GMT -5
Of course I had to add the part about Tre purring. I might take a break on this story and maybe start something new. I'm not really sure quite yet, but since the board is back up, I'm probably going to add some later tonight.
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Post by Kill on Jun 11, 2005 20:38:50 GMT -5
Yayness! Omg. I just had a great idea! What if Tre was promoted by Nickolodeon and played himself on Invader ZIM and all that great stuff happens with a female animator, haha. Omg. Omg. Omg. lol
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Post by suicideXmakeover on Jun 11, 2005 20:51:33 GMT -5
That would be so amazing I couldn't stand it. Tre + Zim = me dying happily. Wait, no, I still have to meet him. Then I can die happy.
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Post by Kill on Jun 11, 2005 20:53:26 GMT -5
Haha. Yeah, I was gonna say something to that extent...But if you're just happy <i> meeting </i> Tre. *shrug* More for me! ;D
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