Philips (Sequel to De Santa)

Chapter Two

CHELSEA

I woke up in a cold sweat, panting as I tried to come down from my most recent dream. The Ballas had returned and killed Trevor. When would these nightmares end? A gentle knock at my door caused me to jump and clutch my blankets. "What?" I called out.

"Hey, Chels...it's Jim." Jimmy answered. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, uh...just give me a minute." I carefully climbed out of bed and looked myself over in the mirror, moving my damp hair from my face and putting it back into a messy ponytail before finally answering the door.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I thought I heard you mumbling before I knocked."

"Bad dream, that's all."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really, but thanks for the offer."

"D-Do you got any plans for tonight?"

"Well, Jimmy, I gotta say, this is highly inappropriate. I mean, I'm your sister."

"No no no!" Jimmy exclaimed, waving his hands in a panic. "No, I didn't mean that. I just meant that, if you weren't busy, we could hang out, you know?"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't been in a 'hang out' mood for a while."

"Well, I thought I'd ask...I'm planning on going to my friend's house, anyways...we sort of—"

"Chels?" Dad butted in. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"Should I go?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, if you don't mind, Jim."

"Can we talk later, Chels?"

"Yeah, of course." I softly smiled. Jimmy gave turned and Dad a nod and solemnly returned to his room. "Can I come in?" I let out a sigh and opened the door, allowing him into the room.

"What did you wanna talk about?" I asked as I shut the door behind us.

"You...I'm really worried about you, Chels."

"Dad—"

"I just want the old Chels back, you know?"

"I'm sorry, Dad, but that Chelsea is gone. She's not coming back."

"I think she might. You just need to get out of this rut you're in."

"Rut?" I hissed. "My best friend was killed right in front of me, I nearly died, you took me from Sandy Shores and you think I'm in a rut?"

"That's not what I meant, Chels. I'm just trying to get through to you, I have barely seen a smile on your face since before the attack." Dad let out a sigh. "What if I said I could get you out of the house without anyone recognizing you?"

"I'd say you're crazy. If you think I'm gonna get plastic surgery—"

"Whoa! Who said anything about plastic surgery? I won't even let Tracey get it and she's an adult."

"Then what are you talking about?" A gentle knock at the door caused us to fall silent.

"Dad, your weird friend is here." Tracey informed.

"Dad, please tell me you didn't." I groaned.

"Oh, come on, he's not that bad." Dad chuckled. "Besides, he just wants to help."

"Help, my ass." I let out a sigh, but finally nodded with reluctant approval.

"Come on in, Lest." The door opened and Lester hobbled into the room, carrying a small black bag in his free hand.