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"Oh Maxie, where are you?"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are. . ." ominously his voice carried across the many large tarps kept between me—the only thing keeping me momentarily safe.
Safe—I wasn't safe. I was miles from safe.
Thud. I tried to stop my heart. I feared he could hear it. Thud. I held my breath and watched anxiously in terror as his shadow danced across the fixtures on the wall and among the endless mirror of plastic.
The tarps began to shiver and swoop beneath his movements as he pushed and turned them away. . .searching. Taunting. Waiting.
Patience seemed to wane more and more on him as his voice became more urgent, pleading almost in a sickly command. I shivered at the sound of my voice on his tongue and withheld every urge to run when he would let out horrible gruff noises. Dread filled the pit of my stomach the moment I could finally see the polish on his boots—I realized it was blood I was seeing.
And then the tarp came flying back.
"Here's Johnny!"
"Max. Maxxxxx. Hey, Maxie!"
I gasped when I felt the world return, reeling me from my disturbingly vivid memories—I didn't realize I had been listening to the same song over and over again until Bode had taken my earphone out. It laid limply in his hand along with a large irritating grin on his face.
I shivered, "Don't call me that."
Bode rolled his eyes, "We're playing the serious game. You wanna play?" he then asked eagerly.
I sighed, snatching my earphone back and placing it back into my ear. "No," I grumbled.
"Oh, come on! I'm bored," he complained, but his voice was muddled.
"I don't care," I growled. Flipping through my Spotify list, I immediately turned on the first song I could find—Hysteria seemed perfect for tuning out your annoying little brother.
"You're so grumpy. Are you on your period?" he huffed.
I gave Bode a hard scowl. "No, you're just annoying me you little—"
"Hey! Knock it off back there," Mom told us in a curt voice. "We aren't gonna do this again. Just—be nice to your brother, Max."
I rolled my eyes, refraining from uttering anything cynical. I was too tired to come up with something.
Bode slumped in his seat, sighing. And then he smirked, "Okay, serious question:—"
"Oh, God, no," Kinsey groaned from the left of me, letting her head collapse into her palm. She was trying to listen to her music soundlessly—even her beats couldn't escape the annoying lace of Bode's demand for attention.
