trigger warning: abuse, violence, all that other fun stuff
Y/n's POV
I had dressed up in my old Halloween costume from a few years ago. I bought new make-up, but other than that, it remains unchanged. I haven't grown since I was twelve anyways. It's an old Raggedy Ann costume, but little me was a terrifying beast, so I ripped it up to turn it into a possessed doll. I put on make-up and pulled my hair into two pigtails to give me the full creepy doll aesthetic. Michael picked me up to go to Jake's party.
"You ready?" asked Michael. "Nice costume. That is...very horrifying."
"Thanks."
As soon as we got to the party, Michael mingled until he could catch Jeremy alone...alone, alone, including his SQUIP. Rich was there, wearing a Jason mask and holding a loaf of bread instead of a machete. I smiled when I saw him but sat alone on Jake's couch, reading my old copy of The Giver (I finished Harry Potter earlier in the week) and drinking whatever was in the punch that Jake had out.
"You l--l--" I glanced up. Rich was there, struggling to get something out.
"Rich? You okay?" He sighed. I looked at him sympathetically. "SQUIP got your tongue?"
He glanced at me. "What?"
I smiled. "Sit down. It's weird when you're taller than me."
"I'm not that short, loser," he said, but I knew it was his SQUIP, not him.
"Fine," I said, returning to my book and chugging the rest of my drink.
Rich stared at me.
"What?"
"You're good at drinking."
I frowned at the weird compliment. "Umm...thanks? I guess. I've had lots of practice."
He frowned at my response, but I ignored him and went to grab another drink. He followed me.
"Um, you want one?"
"Ye--" His body seized up like he was being shocked. "No. Besides, why would I ever take anything from you? You're such a loser. You don't even try do you? You've probably give up. You look so ugly with that costume on, you know that? That costume doesn't suit you at all. Nothing does. Actually, I take that back. Creepy doll does suit you. It's perfect for you."
My smile froze on my face. I knew he didn't want to say any of those things, but they still hurt. "Okay," I said, my voice cracking. I downed my drink before refilling my cup.
"No, Y/n. I didn't mean it."
"I know," I said, tears forming in my eyes. Damn. I get overemotional when I drink. "Sorry." I wiped the tears away.
"Don't--" He stopped talking. I smiled, an exhausted smile.
He sighed. "That's enough. I can't stand this anymore. I'm done with you. I'm done. I'm going to get rid of you if it's the last thing I do. I don't know how I will, but I will. You will die if I have to kill myself to do it."
I stared at him. "Um, Rich? You're not talking to me, right?"
"Oh, no--" His body seized up, and for a moment, he twisted and jerked around, seeming to fight for control.
"Rich? Hey, you okay? Yo, Rich? What's happening?"
He fell to the ground, and I knelt next to him. He curled up into a ball. "Um, is this, like, a SQUIP thing or a panic attack? Because I only know what do in one of those situations."
"Get away from me, slut." His hand flew backward, striking me in the face.
I immediately scooted as far away from him as I could, running into the wall. My breathing became heavy. Oh, God, not this. Memories from when I was little resurfaced. My father and--I buried my head in my knees, sobbing. No, no, no, no. Not now. What am I supposed to do? Focus on things in the room, right.
I tried to lift my head up, but it wouldn't lift. I continued to sob into my knees. "No, please, don't."
I tried to calm my breathing, but focusing on my breathing only made me feel faster and more panicked. Y/n, calm down. He's not here. He's not here. He's not here. I finally managed to calm my breathing. I looked up to see Rich. He looked so concerned.
"I made you cry," he said.
"Yeah, no duh," I managed to say through deep breaths. "A little more than that actually."
He stood up, in his own world, murmuring to himself. He didn't even seem to notice me as I managed to stand up. I grabbed another glass of punch. I decided to find Michael. Maybe his night had gone a little better than mine.
I saw Rich, who was going from guest to guest, talking about Mountain Dew or something. I ignored him. I spotted Jeremy, sitting on the couch with Christine.
"Jeremy," I called to him.
He glanced up. "Y/n?" he asked after I got closer.
"You're bleeding," said Christine. "Your nose."
I reached up to my nose and sure enough found blood. "Oh, it's a part of my costume. Creepy dolls, am I right?"
They both shared a look before laughing.
"Jeremy, have you seen Michael?"
His face got really flushed and awkward. "Um, I think he went home. Last I saw him he was in the bathroom."
"Oh, okay, thanks," I said, turning on my heel and walking away from them.
I heard Rich scream and turned back around. He needed my help... I heard a muffled cry from the bathroom.
I knocked on the door.
Nothing.
"Michael?"
Nothing.
"Michael, it's Y/n. Come on, man. Open the door."
"Y/n?" a small, weak voice asked through the door. It sounded like Michael had had an even worse night than me.
The door opened to show Michael, tears running down his face, his eyes puffy and red. His glasses were off, so hopefully, he couldn't tell that I'd been crying, too. "Oh, Michael."
He hugged me before I could say anything else. I smiled a little. We were back to the way we had been so many nights before. Him relying on me to support him while I enjoy his warmth.
"What happened?"
Michael let out a sob.
"Should we go?"
Michael nodded, standing up and wiping his cheeks. I smiled and grabbed his glasses from inside the bathroom. "Okay, let's go. Do you think you can drive? I drank...a lot."
Michael nodded, putting on his glasses. He glanced at me. "Y/n?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you...crying?"
I bow my head, letting my pigtails partially cover my face.
"Is that real blood?"
"Um, no, Michael, it's not. What would I have done to give myself a bloody nose? It's fake blood I got from Jake."
"Oh," said Michael. "Let's go then."
As we leave, I look around for Rich, but I don't see him anywhere. Huh. Maybe he went home.
"Do you want to sleep over at my house tonight?" I asked. "Emma is probably asleep. She just took in two nine-year-olds, so she probably went trick-o-treating and is all exhausted."
Michael wiped his eyes as he got into his car. "Sure."
