"You have a stepmom?" You ask. He nods, still annoyed. "My real mom divorced my dad and I filed a restraining order."
"Against your mom? Why?"
Vincent shuddered. "Its not important. So, when are we gonna go?"
Vincent's smile had returned, a real genuine smile. "We could go now, I guess. Let me change first." You went into your room and locked the door. You smiled when Vincent tried the door knob. "Having trouble there?" You yelled through the door. He chuckled and walked away. You changed into jeans and a blue tshirt. Then you slipped into your sneakers and unlocked the door. Vincent was at the front door, waiting. You grabbed your purse and went out to Vincent was waiting at the front door. That one about the doll seems like a good choice. It was decided. You would go see Annabelle.
At some point in the movie, there was a jumpscare. You gasped and then began to chuckle. It had surprised you, that's all. It's not like you don't see that kind of stuff every night. Vincent looked over at you, nomming on a purple skittle. "You are really attached to that color, aren't you?" He nodded, eating another purple skittle. This man...
After the movie, you walked out to the car, stretching. Vincent followed slowly. He looked stiff, and you dragged him by the hand to the car. It was had been about an hour and 40 minutes, a good length for a movie. As Vincent was driving, you turned the music off and looked at him. "So, PG, what's Sarah like?" Vincent started to object, but you hushed him. "The curiosity is killing me slowly. Please?" He sighed, finally giving in. "After my dad divorced my mom, my dad remarried. To Sarah. Sarah was only seeing me though. She saw me as a little butler, and when my dad was off to his job, she forced me to work endlessly. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the dishes, vaccuming the whole house, making food, and a LOT of other things. She was cruel, and would verbally abuse me. She never touched me, nor showed any signs that she cared for me. I hate her."
You were left in silence, soaking in what he said. After a few moments of silence, you spoke. "Vinny, I'm so sorry... I had no idea..."
"Better than my biological mother I guess."
"What happened with her, if you don't mind me asking?"
"(y/n), that's a different story for another time. Enough sadness for one afternoon."
His eyes are dark, and glazed over. But he still manages to smile. Why have I never noticed how sad he is? You ask yourself this, and pat his shoulder. "I'll make you toast when we get home."
He mumbles happily: "French toast, please."