Outcast: A Gaster Story [Discontinued]

Chapter 4

Murphy just dropped me off at the house. Interesting ride between him and Gerson, and by interesting, I mean more of Murphy’s little jokes. Times two. Though, going to the diner wasn’t a total waste. I mean, I met Grillby. Such a friendly monster, along with the family, too. Gerson is just as delightful as ever, and Murphy has kept his sense of humor. The only real problem is Flanagan, the bastard that decided to show up. “He’ll probably use what he witnessed against me,” I open my palm, remembering the white soul. I never realised that monster souls looked like that, white and...upside down. A small shiver runs up my spine, the thought of it a little odd to me.

    Maybe I can convince Grillby to get his friend to come to the diner at some point. I could learn a thing or two about what my magic, or lack thereof, can do. My eyes glance at my hand again, my shoulders finally relaxing. “I wonder what he looks like,” I say to myself in a hushed tone.

“Samantha?” A light voice calls for me at the front door. The door was ajar and my mother stood there, something flickering behind her old eyes. “You know what your father would say if he ever saw such a sight,” she welcomed me inside and we walked to the kitchen, the door being locked. My mother grabs her favorite mug, the liquid sloshing inside is coffee. The faint scent of caffeine reaching my nose, making it wrinkle.

“If he doesn't see it, then nothing happened. You won't mention this will you?” She stands for a moment, a hand resting on the counter. The coffee she held in her other hand was set down, and she cleared her throat.

“I love you, Samantha,” I smile, like that wasn't already known mom, “don't worry at all, plus you seem to know what you're doing and you're an adult now.” We both stand there, the scent of coffee fleeing the air, “would you like coffee?” Her hand shot towards the cabinet for a mug, but my voice makes her halt.

“No thanks, I have to get to bed,” I stumble to the steps tiredly, the exhaustion finally catching up to me. I don't hear her say anything as I take my time moving up. It surprises me though that she's still up this late. At the top, I look down the hall and no lights. Of course that would be it. The old man hasn't even come home yet and Mom will most likely be up until she sees that jeep roll down.

I grip the knob to my room, lazily turning it just enough to push the door open. It opens with a creek, the white door being easily pushed out of the way as I walk in. It opens quickly, before slowly closing halfway and coming to a stop. Without turning, I kick the door behind me, forcing it to shut. It clicks, as my fingers give out, dropping the duffle bag to the floor. “I’ll need to put that back later, or I’ll get in trouble,” I sigh, sitting on the bed. I lean down, untying my boots, loosening the laces. With my other foot, I push the boot off. The leather is quickly pushed off, toppling to the floor. I do the same with my other boot, standing and grabbing a pajama shirt from my dresser.

“You know what, tonight is a no pants night,” I mutter, throwing the simple t-shirt onto the bed. Keeping my cold, metal dog-tags on, I slip off my clothes. They are tossed in corner, to be forgotten until laundry day.

Throwing the fluffy shirt over my head, it loosely fits its way around me. Once I get it situated, my body lays on the bed lazily. Just like it did yesterday, my muscles relax in a fit of pain. “Please don’t stay up too late, Mom,” I mutter to myself, falling asleep.

~~~~~

My eyes flutter open peacefully, my dreamless sleep over. Stretching my arms above my head, one of my hands hits the wall. I curse, quickly pulling it back, causing my shoulder to pop. I grumble, rolling my eyes. A bird chirps outside, wind lightly blowing with the sound of an alarm nonexistent. Wait…

I jump up, throwing the blanket off my body. Attempting to get up, the thin blanket wrapped around one of my legs. I hit the floor fast, hitting my face on the linoleum. A groan of pain fills the air, the feeling of trickling blood making me worry. I push myself from the ground slowly, my other hand reaching up to my face. “Just a little blood, nothing out of place,” I say, feeling my nose. Thank goodness. Careful not to mess up anything else, I unravel my leg, freeing it from its cloth restraint. Standing, I grab the feather-like tissue, rolling one up and putting it in my nose to catch any stray bleeding, since only one side decided to drip. Trying to lean my head forward as much as possible, I pull on a pair of brown pants.