City of Blood [boyxboy]

Chapter Eight

BIG WRITER'S BLOCK. SO SORRY. SO SO SO SORRY.

I LOVE YOU ALL PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON THIS STORY IT'S JUST A BIT DIFFICULT TO PLAN AND WRITE SO PLEASE STAY ILY.

I apologize if the chapters from here on in aren't updated as quick as they should be. It's a bit tricky to keep it up with school and WB (writer's block) in the way.

~ Cosmos

x=====x=====x=====x=====x

I stare at the scarring symbol on my shoulder.

It wasn't a dream?

Does that mean I actually assisted in the robbery of my own household?

I helped the Shots?

"Garth," Grace starts, her voice a mix of fear and frustration, her eyes glued to my shoulder, "You're going to tell us what the actual hell happened last night right now and there isn't going to be any objections."

I don't answer. Instead, I let my knees buckle and collapse, bringing me down with them to the cold asphalt. I subconsciously curl my knees to my chest, staring at one spot on the ground as I rethink on as much as I remember from last night.

"Garth!" Grace gasps, sinking to a crouch instantly. She grasps my shoulders worriedly, shaking them with little force. "Please, Garth. What's wrong? What's happening?"

"It wasn't a dream," I mumble. "It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a dream ... I helped them ..." I look up at Grace in fear. Only the quietest of words break past my lips. "Am I one of them now?"

"One of who -" She begins to ask, but catches on quick. Her eyes widen. Instead of bothering me further as I expected, she stands up, pulls me off of my knees, leads me to the grassy edge of the parking lot, and we all sit down right there. No one says anything. Samantha is the only active being; pulling out her makeup silently and brushing her powders on my bruises.

So I speak.

"L-last night ..." I utter finally. "Last night, around 2, I - I woke up, and I went downstairs for some food. Everything was fine, until - until I noticed I wasn't alone." I pause a moment. It's as if I'm telling some old legend as though I were the elder of the tribe, the mightiest warrior, with all the stories to tell of many ancestors and their supernatural tales. Maybe I'm not as good as that, but it's a nice thought.

"I turned around, and there was this silhouette of a man standing just a couple meters in front of me. I wasn't thinking straight at all, so - so I talked to him. I ... I made a deal with him ..." I cringe at my stupidity.

"What was it?" Samantha presses.

"If he left me and my room and my property alone ... I'd help him rob my house."

Mouths drop and eyes widen.

"You're kidding." Says Andrew, not willing to believe it.

"I'm not." My voice cracks from the sadness. "So, after that, I just told the man where everything valuable was and that I was going to sleep, and I went back up to bed ..."

Then suddenly it comes back.

"He was the one who said goodnight."

"He wished you goodnight?" Devon furrows her brows. "What, he's secretly crushing on you? That's just plain creepy."

"Yeah, he must've drugged you after you fell asleep so you wouldn't wake up as he - did that ... to your arm." Grace glances back at my shoulder with a sick look.