Troubled Royalty.

// CHAPTER 7 //

Y/N's POV.

As another shot comes my way, I hide behind the giant cement blocks standing about my height and next to the wall. I hold the gun in my hands and try to aim it at the psycho killer wearing blue chasing me while he can't see me. Or tried to, as I realized I don't know how to handle this thing at all. As I was so focused on getting the hand of it, I see a red mark on my green clothes. It's blood dripping from all over my belly into the ground and suddenly i'm at the floor.

"Damn it, Y/N." Emma says as my life bar turns from green to red and a "game over" sign appears at the screen in large caps lock letters with a blasting red light on the background. Why is this game so loud? I think to myself as Emma is clearly pissed at me. "You died again! And now my team doesn't have enough players to keep the game up, thanks a lot."

"It's just a stupid video game, Emma, don't get so worked up about it, Jesus!" I said, tossing the controller at the couch and drinking more of the gas water at the middle table in our tv room.

"No, it's not 'just a stupid game'." She said making air quotes with her fingers and mocking me with a weird face. She's so worked up about something that doesn't even matter. It's almost funny how much she cares. "I have worked a lot to be at this level and you screwed this up for me." She said while glaring at me and I just rolled my eyes with no energy to elaborate an answer.

"Stop making this such a big deal, Emma, I told you that I didn't like playing this; you made me play with you, so don't blame the victim here, ok?" I said with a voice a little bit muffled for my mouth was filled with buttered popcorn we had made before. This is so damn good, wow, I could earn some money if I made a career out of cooking. I think to myself not really paying attention to whatever Emma was saying now. Until the next sentence slipped her mouth.

"Spencer would have played it better, if he were here." Is what I heard come out of my sister's mouth, just as I stopped focusing on my cooking skills, and my heart stopped. She had no right to bring my brother up.

"But he's not here." I managed to say when my heart recovered its beating pace and I looked at her face while saying so. Her face instantly changed from an expression of anger into a guilty one. Her mouth opened to say something, but it appears she gave up, as she closed it again and looked down at the space on the couch between us. I got up leaving the popcorn bowl over the table again and headed straight to my room, my head feeling dizzy and my stomach feeling weird; it was like I was going to be sick.

I enter my room after running as fast as I could climbing up the stairs and shut my door closed. I rest my back on it and start hyperventilating as I remember having my brother around. He was always overprotective of me, but I liked it, I felt safe with him. And he always made me laugh, since I was a kid. As my mind floods with memories of Spencer, I didn't care that I was sitted on the floor with my knees up while holding them and tears were falling freely from my face. When did everything become so messy? I don't even have the time to find an answer to my conscious' question when I hear the faint noise of my phone ringing and it becomes louder as I'm aware of that fact. It takes me some time to search for the source of the noise and, when I do, I see the border of my phone lying in my bed and a light radiating from it as it keeps ringing. I keep looking at it as I debate with myself on getting up to answer the call or not, and by the time that I accept that I'm not strong enough to get up and walk to my bed, the noise stops, signaling that the person on the other end already gave up on contacting me. Who the hell is even calling me right now? I rest the back of my head on the wooden door and close my eyes to try and recompose my feelings taking deep breaths. But then I hear my phone ringing again. What the hell? If it's Camila calling me on a friday night, I'm gonna kill her for disturbing me. Is the first thing that comes to my mind. But it's not her fault you're not okay right now, it might be an important call. My own brain tries to reason with my overly emotional self. I listen to it and and finally get up with a groan.