"It was your phone!" I snapped after a long sulky silence, finally unable to take the unjust frosty tension resonating from Ray and filling the car.
"What?" he asked slightly alarmed by my sudden, angry, outburst.
"You heard me," I turned and faced out the window, watching the scenery with a detached interest, "It was your phone that cut out when Marley called the night they took you." I defended myself and watched the realisation creep across his face while fighting back the satisfied smirk that was begging to illuminate my own. My lips settled for a small smile instead.
"How did you have my phone? How would Marley know to phone my phone? How..." he trailed off, unable to think of any other questions.
"Two questions to add to an already impossibly long list, my friend." I joked in a singsong way, making sure my tone mirrored the same bitter one he had used earlier. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed him wince slightly. With guilt, I thought.
We fell into yet another not-so-comfortable silence and I once again lapsed into a useless circle of thoughts. Until, as useless and pointless as it was, I found the answer to one of Ray's questions.
"I had your phone because you gave me your jacket to wear." I said quietly, watching the various trees passing as we drove to 'the place Frank told us to go' -sounds great, right?
"Yeah, and thank fuck I did give you it. Dude, it's was so disturbing seeing you in just your boxers." He laughed and I thought fleetingly about ignoring him or replying with something cold, but my more mature side told me better. Plus, I wanted us to be 'cool' again. Something told me I'd need all the friends I could hold onto.
"Well, man, you're not much better; sitting there in your boxers and a t-shirt." I joked back, even adding a small -only slightly forced- laugh.
"So that answers the first question." He said as if to himself and nodded, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, "but what about how Marley knew to phone my phone? Surely if he wanted to talk to you, he would phone you..." he shrugged in frustration.
I watched another tree and then another and then another and thought about exactly the same thing. How did Marley know to phone Ray?
"Marley? Marley? Marley?" he muttered and I snorted then giggled for some reason. Well, fuck me, I must've been nervous.... but then, that's a given.
"We're here." I felt someone nudging me and I did my best to ignore them and cling onto the dream I had been having about... too late, it slipped away. I had to respond to Ray's insistent shoving and "wake up!" commands. I turned away, grumbling something even I couldn't understand, and nestled my head further into the door of the car. Not very comfortable but I was tired.
I was vaguely aware that Ray had stopped attempting to wake me up, but it didn't matter to me in the slightest. I was too wrapped up in the comfort of sleep.
That is, until I crashed to the ground as he opened the door. I should have expected it really; it's logical. But who could possibly be logical after everything I've been through lately; I'm too exhausted.
"Mikey, hurry up! I'm cold out here and I'm too creped out to go in by myself." He said, helping me off the ground as I cursed him loudly. I turned, confused, to where his eyes were fixed and gasped, then shivered; the house looked pretty creepy.
In fact, it was the biggest clichÃ© I've ever seen; large house with large, dark Victorian windows. A creeping vine covered the dated brickwork, the leaves moving gently with the eerily whistling wind. "We're going in there?" I asked, rubbing my side with a groan.
He didn't answer verbally. Instead, he started walking toward the house. The gravel crunched strangely -extra loud to my ears- and often. He was deliberately kicking the little grey stones around him. Looking for something.
"What the hell are you looking for?" I asked, moving over to him.
He smiled widely, goofily as he leant down and picked up something very small. It glinted in the darkness as he closed the considerable distance between the creepy mansion's old oak door and us. The door screeched open, the old rusted hinges making a hideously sinister noise. I gulped as we glanced at each other -Ray seemed fine- and then entered.
"I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm not afraid of the dark..." I whispered repeatedly to myself as we were plunged into the shadows of the house's interior, trying desperately to believe the words my Mom taught me when I was a little boy. "I'm not afraid of the dark..."
So why did I want to cry?
The door creaked shut with an equal amount of terrifying noise.
I started crying.
I couldn't find Ray.
I felt about the place with my arms, not daring to move too far or to speak. It's stupid, I know, but I didn't want him to realise I was so terrified that the tears were rolling down my cheeks freely. Plus, he seemed to know what he was doing, what we were doing at the house; he probably wouldn't be anywhere near me now.
So, I was standing alone in the darkness, shivering with the cold, crying out my childish fear and unable to do anything about it apart from taunt myself mentally, 'you're pathetic Mikey...you're a coward Mikey...you're a grown man Mikey and you're crying because of the dark'- I thought helplessly. Truthfully.
I let out a small sob and then cringed as I heard it bounce of the walls; the sound ringing shrilly back to my ears. My hand clasped to my mouth for fear of another weak cry escaping. However, it was a scream that my locked fingers suppressed as I felt the cold metal against my neck and the heavy breathing at my ear.
The tears stopped.
I pissed myself.
*questioning smile Wow, it's been a long time... [13 days]. Holidays, shitty Internet connections and the fact that it was more difficult to get back into writing than I thought it would be. If you're still interested in this story which I sincerely hope that you are because....well, I don't know but I'd be upset-lol, then sorry for the lack of updates! :)*
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