Chasing White [Draft 1]

Chapter 11: Take Your Antipsychotic

Jaco, Costa Rica. June 3, 2025.

Tori clicks her tongue as she pulls her bag out of the car. Something heavy moves in her bag, definitely not sounding like clothes.

"Get your crap. We have to get inside."

"Can't we just bring it in later?" Sam asks, putting a hand on Rachel's waist, bringing her back into reality.

"If we walk outside after night we will get shot so unless you feel the sudden urge to become a block of Swiss cheese, go ahead. Less people to take care of." Tori mumbles, grabbing ahold of Jazz's bag.

Jazz steps in-between Tori and the rest of the group, stopping Sam from replying

"What she means is that people are going to know that we are here very soon so it would be best if you grab your items now." Jazz gives me a small smile.

"So, staying here is dangerous?" I ask.

"Staying anywhere is dangerous." Tori mumbles underneath her breath.

"Just grab your stuff." Jazz whispers quickly, fear entering her eyes. "Please."

Jason reaches for his backpack and shrugs it on his shoulder. "Come on guys. I'm hungry."

I raise an eyebrow, a little shocked by how quickly and without question Jason moved.

Should I be following him?

Rachel grabs her bag and walks inside without another word. Tori follows close behind Rachel, grumbling along the way. Jazz's eyes plead with me, asking me to follow the three. I give her a small nod and grab my duffle. Sam grunts and grabs his own bag. Jazz gives me a relieved smile then she closes the trunk of the car.

"Just understand that Tori's stressing right now, you know?"

"We're all stressing out." Sam replies.

"Tori's a particular case." Jazz nods as she walks away. Sam and I quickly follow. "Her stress is, like, different than our stress. She panics. Like, 'I'm going to kill someone' stress."

I swallow hard as Jazz fumbles with the door handle. Sam shares my uneasy glance.

"She wasn't like this before." Sam whispers.

"She can hear us." Jazz hisses, finally getting the doorknob to work in her favor. The cabin seems to be smaller on the inside with the two couches. Jason's in the kitchen, trying to get the stove to light.

Rachel's already fast asleep on one couch, using her bag as a pillow. Tori is sitting in front of the other couch, using it as a table for an unusual amount of weapons. Looking up from the barrel of a gun, Tori glares at me, not even bothering to hide the fact that she has an assortment of weapons in her care.

"To-"

"Don't test me right now, Bryant. I have quite a few weapons and I'm really thinking about using them."

Tori throws her weapon down.

I look down at the floor, feeling ashamed at even trying to talk to Tori. She's mad at me and I don't know why. I hate it. I throw my bag on the floor, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Fine. Whatever." I stomp over to the kitchen, my heart breaking but I can't show it.

"And you said that I was acting like a child."

"Tori!"

I put a hand on Jason's shoulder and look at what he's doing. "Can you get it to work?"

"I think it's out of gas." He mumbles, trying the knob again. "Say, Tori, when was the last time this house was used?"

"The last time I was in Jacó." Tori throws a gun to the side.