Seven Minutes to Midnight

11

Veronica must have fallen asleep at some point in her fake moaning, and she was quite difficult to wake up. I shook her until her head rolled from side to side and I feared I was giving her whiplash.

"Allow me." Lane swooped in and leaned over Veronica's form.

I craned my neck to see what he was doing, but I couldn't. A low murmuring came from his throat that rivaled Frank's voice for sexiness—yet the strange language carried with it a hit of full throttle creepiness. Goosebumps literally crawled up my arms, and I backed away as quietly as I could.

When Lane spun around to a standing position, I fell over backwards. But Lane wasn't sensing my fear.

He was carrying Veronica in his arms.

This was no small feat, especially for a guy of Lane's size. Lane, for all his suave aura, was slightly shorter than Frank, and had a long, lean body type. Veronica's ball gown nearly enveloped his head, but he carried her like she weighed nothing. And for all Veronica's barbed remarks about my inability to gain weight and complaints about her thighs rubbing together when she walked, she enjoyed having cleavage and lorded it over me.

TO BE CONTINUED

To: vegangrrl_15@ [redacted]

From: amyvaughn@ [redacted]

Subject: Delete After Reading (Part 3)

Draft saved 2017 July 22, 17:56:15

Okay, I lost my train of thought. Obviously, because that's the weirdest place for a TO BE CONTINUED. But I had to check the doors and windows and make sure they're locked. The memories of our first meeting are so clear, they brought the goosebumps back.

Where was I? Yes, our games. Our new games. Lane's games.

I'm sure you've heard about our games, but I'll give you a few examples (I know you've had your own "games" to play over the past year, and it is possible that our games seemed inconsequential to you and you weren't aware):

On our first day of the new game:

I stood at my locker, spreading on sunscreen.

"Oh, yeah. You gotta worry about getting sunburned with the sun hiding behind all those clouds," giggled the vacuous blonde at the locker beside mine.

"Yes. I doubt you would want to see my skin turn to ash and flake off," I told her. I stared at her until she giggled uncomfortable and turned to her friend.

"What a freak," she said.

Several days later:

Veronica was approached by one of the Christian girls. "You must turn away from the dark side! Accept Jesus as your savior!"

In response Veronica recoiled in horror, gasping, "Stay away! It burns!"

In a similar incident, I began growling in Latin the lyrics to "Ave Satani," a song from The Omen movie soundtrack.

Recurring incidents, in the hallways, of Frank coming up behind girls, sniffing audibly, and muttering, "You smell delicious." When said girl turned to look at him in disgust, he smiled at her, showing the fangs we'd found on the internet that mold to your canine teeth. They are quite realistic. Usually this girl, if she was alone, would hurry off. If she was with friends, she'd usually make some "freak" comment, or threaten sexual harassment. Frank eventually learned to only approach girls walking alone. He also learned not to do this to any males. Luckily, white face powder covers bruises fairly effectively, and Veronica and I had already been experimenting with dark circles around our own eyes.