NIGHTMARE

chapter 30

Y/n's POV.

I tried to block all the intrusive thoughts out of my mind as I got ready.

'Tomorrow night' had come, and for the first time since the kidnapping, I was going to set eyes on and potentially talk to the Valhalla's who tortured me and, well, whose leader I mercilessly murdered.

I took a slight glance over at the clock hanging on my wall. Ten past five, it read. I had roughly an hour left before we had to be on the road.

The party was to start at seven, and we were to be the first ones there. I strode over to the mirror hanging on my wall, glancing up at myself from head to toe.

I let my shoulders slump forward, glancing into the lifeless and unrecognizable eyes that were my own.

I let out a long and drawn-out sigh, running my hands through my hair before proceeding to do up the zip of my 'party dress'.

There was a brief tap at the door before it opened, and Mikey strode in casually, again wearing a suit.

This one was black and fancy, with shiny leather shoes and dyed black hair.

He slowly put his hands in his pockets and leaned slightly to one side.

"Next time, can you knock?" I asked, only glaring at him through the mirror.

"What do you mean? I did." He looked confused.

"Not even God could hear you." I let out a sassy smirk, and he just shook his head and sighed.

"Whatever, sure,"

"When are we going?"

"In about fifty minutes now, we'll take the lambo," he nodded.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? You know that I'm not forcing you to come, right?" A brief look of concern crossed his face before he regained his cool and calculated stance.

"I told you before," I said, snapping, "I'm not going to stay here alone; that's even worse than going to this stupid party." I rolled my eyes and reached for a tube of mascara, applying it to my eyes.

He sat himself down on the edge of my bed, running a hand gently through his hair, clearly not wanting to mess that up.

"I just don't want you to think that you have to go and witness a mass murder; that isn't good for anyone's mental health, not even mine," he said softly, lowering his tone yet still keeping his gaze fixed on me.

"I'll probably just leave the room or something; sneak off to the bathrooms, I guess." I shrugged. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over his lap.

"Right, well, yeah. I just want you to know that," he started.

"Mikey, I get it," I interrupted, and I scurried off into the bathroom, searching for some lipstick.

What was I doing getting all dolled up for an assassination party? What kind of lowlife had I become?

"I'll be downstairs if you need anything." He waved awkwardly and got up. I merely nodded and paid him no further attention.

This whole thing about 'us' was just unnatural. And when I say 'us," I mean Mikey and I going on forced meeting dates. ....

Fifty minutes passed, and I was somewhat ready, all dressed up and wobbling down the stairs in heels that made my ankles and toes cry.

I met Mikey in the garage, getting into the car.

"Are you ready?" he asked as I looked over at him, rolling my eyes and smirking slightly. Was he nervous?