𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘//𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐗𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Juliet by Cavetown: Sour Boy

"My sour boy is a pain
I wanna shoot him in the brain
But I'd miss him in the morning"

ERRRRR

The safe's door screeched open, letting out a whine. I had dreamed of this. Of what on earth could be on the other side. Oprah? Money? Fame? Bad guys? We were greeted with artificial light and industrial pipes woven across a stone wall. Well that was less thrilling than I thought.

Safe but boring.

We trailed out one by one. I pushed Chuck out, guiding him my the shoulder. How many were there of us? I didn't have the strength to count. I didn't have the strength for anything anymore.

It was a tunnel. Cylindrical and stretching down in two directions. Lights came on overhead, giving off a buzzing noise.

"Which way do we go?" Jeff asked, wiping off his forehead. The group looked at Thomas for the answer.

"The one less traveled by." I quipped. People looked at me blankly. "Robert Frost?" Nothing. "Really? Wow." Dragging Chuck along to the right passage way. The others shuffled behind, following us.

We walked. Even though are feet were sore. Even though we were mourning. Even though I was bursting at the seams. Hoping this was all a bad dream. Wishing my mom would wake me up from my bed in middle class suburbia. Telling me that I was late for school. Wishing I had a boyfriend named Gally and he took me out every Friday night. Wishing we could be strange in boringly normal. Wishing I could have him again. Wishing he had chosen me.

-Turn on Twisted Nerve
by Bernard Herrmann-

"Are you a griever whisperer?" A boy named Keith had made his way to the front, deciding to keep Chuck and I company. His hair was curled, soaked in sweat. I'd never really talked to him before. Taking a second look I realized who he was. One of the baggers. Great.

"No." I drawled, hoping he'd get back to one of his other friends.

"Then why'd all the grievers go away when you told them to? Why'd they like you so much?" He had barely talked and he was already getting on my nerves.

"Because I'm sexy, I dunno."

"Finally." Keith chuckled, brushing up on me. "Something we can agree on."

"Ugh." I groaned, looking forward. Keeping my mind on the end. Just a little longer.

"Hey." Victor sneered, pulling the boy back and taking his place. "The position for the guy they reject all the time has already been filled. Move along Shank." Keith mumbled something incoherent and fell back in the group.

"Thanks Dicktor." As insulting as the nickname I'd given him had been, my smile gave away my teasing.

"Yeah? Well thanks for saving my life back there." The grievers had scratched him on his arm, leaving a seeping wound. A strip of cloth had been tied tight around his bicep. Jeff must've patched him up.

"No problem." I said, looking him up and down.

"I'm so grateful you're alive Victor!" He attempted mocking my voice, lilting it up a few octaves. It sounded a lot like him except with a plethora of whiny voice cracks. "I could kiss you!" He switched back to his normal tone. "Well y/n, I'm just saying I wouldn't stop you."