Jack of Clubs (BxB)

4: To Face A Life So Lavish

"Oh, shit..." I swore under my breath as I felt my heart sink deep inside my chest, falling further and further with each passing second. Talking to myself was like second nature, which I blamed on my only child syndrome. That was a thought that fronted only for the sake of distracting me from the far more distressing matter.

As much as it pained me to admit it, I needed to text Sam immediately. There was no way I was going to face something like that alone, and I had no one else to talk to about it without getting Sam in more unfathomable levels of trouble. I had yet to even learn what Sam did to warrant such a response from the druggies, but I wasn't sure that I even wanted to find out. Especially after seeing the crazed look in that man's eyes. I shivered at the mere memory of it.

I quickly began typing a message.

Me:
There's a suspicious af car in front of my house.

I was standing in front of the window, where the blinds were closed tightly for fear of being seen. Despite not recognizing the car, I knew instantly what it likely was, since the vibe it exuded was just inherently ominous, and I had never once seen it in the neighborhood before. And why was it parked so close to my house? Nothing about that eased the tension in my stomach. I felt a little queasy the longer I thought about it.

What was I supposed to do? Just be a sitting duck and wait for them to barge into my house just to do god knows what? I wasn't the skinniest person on the planet, but I wasn't by any means strong either. I was perfectly in the middle, which wasn't helped by all the junk food I was always eating. I would probably die just from the idea of physical exertion to any degree. Let alone actually having to apply myself.

All I knew was that a man told me he would be watching me, and the very next day there was a creepy car in front of my house. Which I noticed about fourteen minutes ago, and had been glancing at, pacing around, and then glancing at it again ever since the initial revelation. Because what else was I supposed to do? Was there a criteria for a situation like mine? If yes, then I would have loved a manual.

Finally remembering the message I sent, I quickly turned my phone on to search for a reply. I was relieved to find one.

Druggie Douche:
Is it a black van with tinted windows and a dent on one side?

Scrambling to make sure, even though I already knew the answer to that, I subtly lifted the corner of the blinds just enough to squint at the vehicle. Surely enough, it was exactly as he described it. I had to take a second to regulate my breathing and stop my hands from shaking so that I could type an answer.

Me:
I feel like I don't tell you how much I detest you enough.

Druggie Douche:
And I to you. Do you have access to a car?

Me:
My mom's car.

Druggie Douche:
Are you home alone rn?

Me:
Unfortunately.

Druggie Douche:
I think it'd probably be best if you came to my house then.

A few seconds passed before he sent another message.

Druggie Douche:
I gagged while typing that.

It was utterly depressing that I even had to resort to relying on the person I hated most. But what else was I supposed to do? My dad left early that morning to coach his little league practice, and my mom always carpooled to work. I only glanced out of my window to see what the weather was like, and that was when I spotted the mysterious van.