𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

 ❛𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞? 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥.❜

☎

It took a long time for you to convince your parents that you would be alright at home for the evening while they took their annual trek three towns over for their anniversary dinner. Even after you proved that you knew all of the emergency phone numbers and demonstrated how to use the newly-installed deadbolt lock on the inside of the front door, it wasn't until you called Dewey's cell and made him promise to check up on you every hour on the hour that they even brought up the idea of actually leaving. 

It wasn't that you were eager to be all by yourself—especially after the freaky dream that you had last night. You just hated the fact that everyone else was putting their lives on hold while you healed from the double homicide of your best friend and her (douchey) boyfriend. It was bad enough you were still reeling with guilt from surviving, now you had to be babysat?

You were a babysitter, for Christ's sake. You could take care of yourself. 

Right as your dad stepped out the front door around eight o'clock at night, he forked over the house's master key. It unlocked every door, closet, and drawer in the entire building—including the liquor cabinet. 

You didn't need to be off your ass on a Tuesday night. All you needed was a little liquid courage to keep your heart from beating through your ribcage at every little sound. Besides, with Dewey and your parents calling every so often, you couldn't really afford to lose yourself completely. 

Three vodka sodas. That's all it took for you to stop eyeing the front door every couple of minutes. That's all you needed. 

The living room was dark, your face only dimly lit by the light of the TV screen. You put on Interview with the Vampire a little while ago since it was one of your tamer movies. Believe it or not, you just didn't have the stomach for slasher flicks lately. You could only hope that this was just a phase or you could say goodbye to literally all of your bedroom decor. You were starting to fall behind on Randy's movie recommendations, refusing to watch The Blair Witch Project even though he pestered you about it every single day.

The bowl of popcorn shifted on your lap as you curled up tighter against the couch. You were getting to the part in the movie where Lestat and Louis walked in on Claudia eating her piano tutor. The room was starting to spin deliciously and the best part about it was that you didn't even care. Your eyelids were growing heavy and you would probably fall asleep before the end. 

The cordless phone on the end table behind the sofa lit up and began ringing loudly, jolting you out of your half-asleep daze. Without looking away from the screen, you reached around and pulled it off of the stand, thumbing the ACCEPT CALL button and holding the device against your ear while your other hand shoveled a mound of popcorn into your face. 

"Hello?" you mumbled, mouth full. 

"Hey, (Y/N), it's Tatum."

"Tatum," you hummed, delighted that you didn't have to play sober. "Heyy." 

Tatum never called unless she wanted to rant about her boyfriend or her family or whatever else might have been bothering her at any given moment. That wasn't to say you didn't appreciate her calls. In fact, you could use another distraction right about now. "What's up, buttercup?"

"Oh, nothing." You could almost hear her twirling the cord around her finger. "Dewey just went on patrol. He wants to know if you need anything from Sev-Elev."