Bob
"Oh, I'm fine...just really tired." I covered up, "Haven't been getting much sleep because of them dreams." Lies...that's all you ever do now. Your not fine. Am too...I'm just...waiting to die.
"I wore you out, huh?" Scott said, winking at me.
"Not as much as you wore out Blair." I retorted, flashing him a joking smirk.
"Hey! Don't you go telling anyone that now. It sounds kinda like we were....umm hmm." Scott inquired, nudging his head slightly as he said the last comment.
"Mmm...hmming?" He laughed, than nodded at me. It was always something we enjoyed to do, have our special ways of saying things. You need a way to say, 'Clints gonna kill me'. Scott shot me an evil look and winked. It once again gave me that familiar churning feeling in my stomach...Scott and a girl, gross.
"Do you think you'll have another dream tonight?" Scott asked, a strand of bleached blond hair falling into his eyes. I could tell that he didn't like to bring up the subject and that it made him very nervous.
"I hope not. I really don't want to have another dream." I spoke softly and my voice qwivered as I did, "They are some freaky shit." Scott looked down at the ground, as if he was regreting that he had brought up my nightmares. He should regret it, he's bringing death closer to you. "No!" I screeched, tucking forcefully at my dark brown locks.
"I wouldn't want to have them dreams either!" Nobody would want these dreams...But you deserve them. No I don't...Leave me alone. Why? So you can die? Your so weak. I am not...I'm fine. I'm not going to die, My brother's wouldn't kill me. Then why is Clint planning your murder right now?
"I'm really tired..." I sighed, I just wanted to sleep so the voices would leave me alone...just for a little while.
Clint
"Dave?" I called from the couch, where I had been placed for about a hour now, "Oh, Davey Boy! Where are you?" No answer, I thought he had just gone to get a pillow. "Dave? Big D?" Slowly I pulled myself off the couch, my bones ached from only sixty minutes of lounging. Excelling up the first six steps, I cautiously glanced around for my younger sibling. Nowhere to be found.
Suddenly I felt a hand yank on my ankles, forcing me to flip forward. The edge of the step jabbed into my forehead as my left hand bent backwards quickly causing a shril of pain to fly up arm. "Oi! Owww!" I wailed rolling over on the step, my left hand stinging as I stared into the culporates face...Dave.
"Hot enough for you?" he questioned referring to the burning sensation that lingered in my wrist.
"I'm going to kill you!" I hollered, turning around to see Dave laughing, and Bob standing frozen in the front door, his eyes wide with fear and his face flushed white. Scott was causaully peering around the living room, as if looking for a place to chuck his yellow coat.
"Hey, Clint. You really need to keep your temper too." Scott spat remembering back to what Clint had told him earlier that week. Scott through his coat over the stair banster...he was such a slob and began to head up there steps thowards his room.
"Scott! Where you going?" Bob called after Elvis while racing up the steps to catch up to him. What left me amused and shocked was the look that my brother had gave me the second he walked in the door. What was going on with him? Why does he seem so distant and cruel?