𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘴 ~ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Chapter Two

Chapter Two:
"Happy Hallo-Fucking-Ween."
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Ramona was beyond pissed when her boss told her she would have to work on Halloween. Quite frankly, she didn't understand why he didn't just close down the restaurant that day, no one ever shows up, anyway. The teens are too busy partying, somehere she'd rather be right now.

Right now, she'd rather be getting high out of her mind and eating an unholy amount of candy that she'd certainly regret doing within the hour.

While the teens partied, the kids were running around the neighborhood, all dressed up in their costumes as they went from door to door.

Her eyes focused on the TV, which played the ending of a horror movie. She glanced briefly down at her dad's old watch on her wrist, noting that it was just past midnight.

The wind whirled outside, providing a spooky atmosphere as fog coated the windows. It was almost the perfect setting for a horror movie. The bright fluorescent lights buzzed above her head, flickering every few minutes.

"Let's do the mash.. The monster mash." Ramona mumbled to herself, stirring her melted chocolate shake. "It was a graveyard smash.. heh, smash."

The lights continied to flicker above her, the only other light shining being the full moon. Ramona tapped her nails against the counter as she began to day dream.

Ramona squeezed her left eye shut as the woman on the screen let out a blood curdling scream as whatever, or whoever, was chasing her finally caught her.

By the time the credits had finished, Ramona's shift was nearly over as the hour changed from twelve to one.

She thought it should be illegal to make a minor work past ten, especially on a school night, but her boss didn't care too much for the legality of things. Neither did she when it came to work, honestly. Her family needed the money, and extra hours meant extra pay.

Most of the time.

The bell ringing, signalling to Ramona that someone had entered the small diner, brought her back from her thoughts.

She looked up from her still unfinished drink, her entire mood dropping when she saw him standing there.

Harrington. His head hung low and his hair was droopy, covering his face. Even without seeing his expression, she could tell by his body language that something was wrong.

Still, Ramona certainly wasn't in the mood for his bullshit tonight. Not that she was in the mood for it any other night, and she definitely wasn't in the mood to be robbed again.

"Harrington-" She stood straight up, wiping her hands on her pale yellow uniform before

"Not now, García." He said, looking up briefly before seating himself at a booth and letting his head drop into his arms.

Ramona swallowed, furrowing her eyebrows when she saw the state that he was in. His eyes were bloodshot and she immediately noticed his tear streaked cheeks. His usually perfectly done hair had turned into a mop on his head, Ramona thought it meant he had been anxiously tugging on it.

His back rose and fell unevenly, indicating his trouble breathing. Steve's fingers gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.