Games (BENDrownedXReader)

Chapter Two-Home

I felt something play with my hair and now I'm not gonna sleep :D (Warning: there is mentions of alcohol)

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I look up at the ceiling blankly, the creaking noises from above declining me any sleep. I breathe out a long, annoyed sigh and get up. I don't take the blanket off from the waist down, I just sit in a crisscross position and put my head on my fists. That teenager returned to my mind at the worst time. My right hand starts tapping my knee impatiently, as if that would help me sleep. What part of him is keeping me up? 

I just lay back down, close my eyes, and try to think about other things. I finally drift off, soon waking up by the sound of a crashing sound. It's probably Bethany's (you can change that if it's your name) dad returning from wherever he came from. Probably from the bar. I go back to sleep after a few minutes.

I wake up running in a sort of unending room. It's full of TVs, arcade games, and consoles. There seems to be giggling from a close distance, but it's echoing throughout the room. I have no control of my body. I'm just running from something. I don't know what. My eyes are just focused on what's ahead and dodging fire from different videogames, some of them I've never heard of. Some games are on the arcade screens, all of them from Postello's. Skee-Ball machines seem to block the path in some places, making me turn one way or another. 

I feel a hand graze my shoulder briefly, and it makes me run faster. I keep wondering what I'm running from. What kind of dream is this if I don't know what I'm running from? Some parts of the walls, ceiling, and floor does glitch and fall, soon spreading from the small patches to larger parts of it. Everything except the giggling disappears suddenly. I start falling, deeper and deeper into the dark. Soon, a hand grabs onto my wrist. It's so cold. I look up, only seeing a blurry complexion of red, black, and green. What stands out is the blurry white, perhaps a smile. 

I shoot up from the pillow and give a confused, sleepy gaze at my alarm clock. 5:30 a. m. I stop it from beeping further and jump off the mattress I've been sleeping on for the last ten or eleven months. I get the ladder and climb down from the attic's trapdoor, feeling a sort of sensation of paranoia and anxiety. It feels like I'm forgetting something, but I don't know what. 

I tiptoe to the kitchen after checking on Bethany, who's sound asleep in her room. I don't check on her parents, I just leave them be. It sounds weird, I know, but I don't feel like I'm safe alone without checking on Bethany or seeing one of her parents wide awake. I get a coffee cup from the cabinet, pick out (favorite coffee flavor), and turn on the coffee machine. The bedrooms are far enough to not hear that, and I'm not really hungry today. 

The coffee finishes, so I put in some milk and take a sip of it as I look out the window. The neighbors are usually awake by this time, the husband, Michael Cherryl, already at the hospital and the wife, Charlotte Cherryl, just at the window. We sometimes talk, but she's nowhere to be found. I catch a glimpse of yellow, but I shrug it off. I move along to the kitchen counter, out of sight of the window, and sip my coffee for the next few minutes. Bethany's Dad, Mr. Veret, soon walks in with Mrs. Veret. 

"Hey, sport," Mr. Veret laughs, ruffling my hair a little. I just hope Bethany doesn't become him: a person with a lot of money who wastes it on beer and wine. I'm not trying to be judgmental of him, it's just that I don't really trust father figures from my experience. Mrs. Veret and I aren't close either. 

"Hey, Mr. Veret, Mrs. Veret," I reply. "How are you?"

They don't answer, they just look out the window and turn pale in almost perfect unison. Mrs. Veret gulps and turns on the coffee machine while Mr. Veret starts small talk with me, like "how's the weather?" and "how's your morning?" kind of talk. When I look back out the window, there's nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They might be having one of those days, or the Cherryls are just going to wake up late. Michael's car is still outside, a red flag, and Charlotte is nowhere to be found, a really bright red flag. 

After another twenty minutes or so, Bethany wakes up and we all try to act normal in front of her. Everyone here, except her, knows something is wrong. Very wrong. 

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Word Count: 815