murder // m.c.

seven; one more troubled soul

"Because I need an escape."

I look at her and she frowns. "Alright, then let's escape." I stand up and put my hand out to her. "Let's go, princess."

She looks up at me. "Where are we going?"

"To escape," I tell her.

She looks at my hand and then back at me. She sighs, grabs my hand and I pull her up. I smile at her and she interlocks our fingers, and then pulls me forward to meet her lips for a long, almost desperate kiss.

When she pulls away, she wraps her arms around my waist and nuzzles her face into my chest. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and rest my chin on her head. Maybe I'm not the worst boyfriend ever.

"Can we get food?" Her mumbles disappear into my shirt and I chuckle.

"Yeah, we can."

"I really want pizza and fries."

"Pizza and fries it is then."

She pulls away and looks up at me. "Lead the way."

I nod, take her hand in mine and lead her through the streets.

After a few minutes of walking around, we agree that going back to my place would be the best thing. She didn't want to be around people because everybody was annoying her, except for me. So, we got a large pie and two large fries from McDonald's and walked back to my apartment.

My dad wasn't home and probably wasn't going to be home for the rest of the night because he never is.

Brianna sits on my bed and kicks off her shoes and shrugs off her jacket, leaving her in her shirt, jeans and mismatched socks. I leave the room for a minute to grab us something to drink and when I return, she has already eaten a whole slice.

I laugh and kick my door closed. "Slow down," I tease, placing two cans of Coke on my nightstand.

"I'm stressed, so let me eat my feelings away."

I smile at her and sit facing her, taking a slice from the box. I take a bite as she dumps the fries on the other side of the pizza box.

"Are you a dipper?" She asks.

"What?"

"Do you dip your fries or put ketchup on all of them?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. It says a lot about a person," she tells me, shaking the packets.

I stare at her for a second. "I usually dip them..."

"Good," she says, sounding satisfied with my answer. "Because people who put it all over are not the kind of people you want in your life."

I laugh. "What the hell?"

"It's true," she says, squirting the contents of the packets in a pile.

"Whatever you say."

She smiles and throws the empty packets in the empty bag, and then she puts it on the floor.

"So, why did you move over here?" I ask, deciding to make conversation.

She scoffs and takes another slice. "My dad met his wife during a business trip and then fell in love and all that bullshit that comes with it," she answers before taking a bite.

I laugh. "You sound pretty pissed about it," I point out.

She shrugs. "It's whatever, really. I was just really pissed that he moved us over here and away from everything I've ever known."