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gjnhjfdhns: Part FOURTEEN: Hitting the Bottom

"What the F-CK is going on!?" Mitchell hollered. He shook me by the shoulders. "Your parties are MESSED, man. Never, EVER invite me to any of them AGAIN."

I blinked blankly back at him, my mouth dry with shock. He may have recovered this quickly- Or maybe this was his way of recovering- but I was still stuck in "Oh my God what the hell is a cemetary doing out here I can't believe I'm alive there's a cemetary here I hope the others are alright whaddafack cemetary" land.

"At least you were invited to one."

I blinked out of my daze. Now that was a familiar voice, with a pinch of foreign. I hadn't heard anyone else talk in what seemed like the longest time, even though it had probably been two, two-and-a-half hours since we'd left my house.

From the other side of the cemetary a figure came a-walkin'. Our eyes adjusted to the starlit darkness and made out brown hair. Curly brown hair.

/Marcello/.

"Oh my God what the fudge Marcello!?" Angel said, surprisingly quickly.

Marina looked like she was going to hug him, while Ale gaped like.. A big... Gape-y thing.

"What're are you doing here, unarmed? C'mon into the school," Marina urged, taking hold of his arm, "the gym equipment's gonna be put to good use!"

They walked- /ran? Ralked?/- to the doors, which were surprisingly unscathed, and we followed; I guess we were so eager to get away from the cemetary that we'd pushed all exploded shadow screams out of our minds.

Marina was busy relaying the details of our adventure to Marcello as they walked in, but it didn't take long for them to stop walking as we had.

The school was white. Not the off-white most schools are painted; The school was pristine, clean white, so white that the tiniest bit of dirt made everything look unkempt.

And unkempt it was. There were streaks of blood on the walls, as though something had tried to cling on to the flat surface in a vain attempt to stay put, and the ceiling was dripping with vile-coloured liquids. The floor was dusty and littered with small... Bones, were they!? The air around us smelt like disease, like something had died and you'd contract it's sickness by inhaling its scent, but there was something oddly sterile about the stench...

Something unmistakably medicinal...

"Oh my /God/." Angel, too, had realized what I had.

We were no longer in our crazed school, we had walked into a hospital.

"I-I think... I think I've got... What was it called, Hazel?" she whispered, visibly shaking.

"... /Nosocomephobia/."

I almost puked as soon as the word left my lips- /No, it couldn't be anything like that story, that was a horrible and gruesome story that should never, ever happen to any living thing, despite how interesting it was/- if it hadn't been for the creaking of a door behind us.

We all did a 180, readying ourselves for any type of violent exertion. I had to stop myself from swearing in shock when I saw who had opened the door.

"What... Wh... Wha... /Kevin/!?"
He mock imitated my shocked demeanor- "Huh- /Hazel/!?"- and rolled his eyes.

"What're you doing here?!" Marina gasped, eyes open to the point of popping out.

"... Hockey injury." He frowned.

"Right. Near the end of summer vacation," I crossed my arms, "you had a hockey injury and went to this effed up hospital."

He shrugged. "Yea."

"You're lying worse than /me/."

"I'm not lying."

"And I had a birthday party."

"Which you didn't invite me to," Marcello interjected.

I rose a brow. "Uhm, Marcello, I didn't have a birthday party.

"Oh. Right," he nodded energetically. "I knew that."

"Look, now that we have Kevin, let's find our way out of here!" Mitchell was frowning. I looked around, and saw that Angel was too; both upside-down smiles in Kevin's general direction. This eased my feeling of an overactive paranoia: They felt the same way I did, and the way I felt was wary.

I didn't trust him.