"WHY ARE YOU NOT HELPING?!" Riley cries out at Jake, "She's our younger sister, for fucks sake, and you're out here doing this?"
"Fuck off already," he drinks another shot of alcohol. The glass echoed a thin sound when it found contact with the table.
"Jake—"
"Just... Go away!" the boy yells.
He stood from his chair and she slowly backends. The boy got a hold of her shoulders and started staring at her, demise being muttered in his eyes. Riley was speechless with fear marked on her face — the same goes with Chase, who is watching the scene from the staircase.
Jake then spat onto her skin. Some of the liquid went into her mouth and eyes. He lets go of Riley as he sat back on his chair. She's fighting back tears at this point.
"At least tell her happy birthday," she mumbled but it was ignored when the shot glass came upon his lips.
Chase then decided to go to Clare's room. When he entered, he saw her as she was resting on the bed — healing and helpless. Although the shards of glass affected her eyesight, her thoughts can envision what was arising downstairs.
"Clare," Chase whispers, "I'm sorry..."
She laughed as a response, "I know," she grabbed her glasses from the nightstand beside her as she wore it momentarily, "That's the thirty-seventh time you've said it."
Silence then enveloped the overlaying space between them.
"I'm sorry we weren't able to go to the store," Clare continued.
"That's not that important now..." Chase was hesitant to even speak.
"My poor eyesight isn't important either."
"Clare..."
"Chase," she smiles, "I'd rather see blurb than see everyone around me get hurt."
He breathed voicelessly as a response.
"That includes you," the girl resumed, "even though you can't feel anything," a faint laugh from her was then heard, "No offense though."
He just glimmered, "None taken. Happy 13th birthday, Clare."
"Happy 13th deathday, Chase. If... You know," she titters, "that exists."