[Mat] We're A w a k e n i n g

[Casey Wilson]

It was dark, despite the fact that she'd told Riley that she wouldn't be able to stay out late due to the fact that she'd be grounded the minute she got home, and it was going to be worse the longer it took. Despite all that, it was still dark when she got home. She'd parted ways with Riley at an intersection- Riley had to go one way toward the hideout, Casey had to go the other to wards home. She'd slipped off to a side street though. Instead of going home, she craftily picked the pocket of a rather rich looking male. Probably a business executive or something. Regardless, his wallet had been loaded, and she'd promptly gotten herself a few shots of heroin, which she had done almost as soon as she'd disappeared from view of the street.

She'd spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening high, wandering around the forest until she'd finally started to come off it- once she'd run out of heroin more or less. Feeling considerably better than she had when she'd left the school earlier that day, she wandered back toward her place. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was a house. The roof leaked on occasion, and the floor boards creaked, and in bad winter storms, the draft in there was horrible, but it was alright. She'd totally forgotten about the fact that the school had called home three times today, and not one of those had been a good call home. She couldn't even remember what the three calls home were for, but that was beside the point.

Trudging up the stairs, she gripped the railing tightly as she felt the stairs bow a little under her pathetic excuse for body weight. The shift sent her head spinning ever so slightly, and her knuckles went white on the banister as she clutched it as though she was clutching it for dear life. Shoving the door open roughly and none too quietly, she squinted and almost made vocal protest as light flooded the front porch of the house. So he was still up. Either that or he'd left the front light on, which he never did unless he was expecting her to come home, and wanted to know when she came home. As though in response to her wondering about whether he was awake or not, she heard the quiet crinkling of a bag of potato chips from the living room.

Kicking her shoes off, she didn't bother taking her sweater off as she wandered through the kitchen and into the living room. Just as she expected, her father was half sprawled on the couch, though he looked to be asleep. The crinkling she'd heard had to have been the bag of chips as it slipped out of his limp arm and dropped to the ground. Breathing a sigh of relief and not quite knowing why she was so relieved to come home to him asleep, she turned her back to him, surveying the living room before moving toward the hall going to the stairs. Just as she was about to turn up onto the stairs, she caught sight of a shadow behind her, just before a fist swung at her head, springing stars to her eyes.

"Fuck!" she shouted loudly, whipping around and ducking at the same time. The fist to the head was followed by another one that just barely missed, glancing off the top of her head as she attempted to duck out of the way. So apparently he wasn't asleep, and apparently he had some reason or another to be pissed off at her. Feeling strong hands on her shoulders, she stumbled backward as he shoved her back against the wall, kneeing her in the stomach before throwing her roughly to the ground.
"What the fuck was that for!?" she snapped, her voice sounding far away to her dazed mind. Heroin plus a couple whacks to the head wasn't the greatest combination.

"Three fucking phone calls from school? And then you come home, at midnight, coming down off a high. And you've got the balls to ask me what the fuck that was for?" he snapped, bringing the realization of why she'd avoided coming home until now to her mind. Struggling to get back to her feet, while leaning against the wall, she yelped as he drove a kick into her ribs. Something snapped, and she was back on the ground again. The smell of alcohol was coming off him in waves as he drove another kick into her abdomen. Groaning, she kicked out at his ankle, unable to help the smirk as it gave out and he crashed to the floor, shaking the whole house as he did so.

Cursing under her breath, she struggled to her feet, one arm hooked around her ribs, her breathing heavy as tears prickled the back of her eyes. He was getting to his feet as she made a bolt for the kitchen, and managed to kick her foot out from under her just as she was getting to the doorway of the living room. She went down again, the side of her head colliding with the corner of the door frame. Dazed, but not quite ready to go down, she winced at the feeling of blood trickling down the side of her face. The wall had cut a gash down the right side of her face, much to her displeasure. Getting to her feet again, she broke for the kitchen once more, managing to get ahead of him before he caught up with her.

The kitchen was bright, painfully bright on her pounding head. Snatching the largest knife from the block, she waited. Her head was spinning, and in a blind panic, the moment her father rushed at her after entering the kitchen, she drove the knife into him, stabbing it down into his throat. He made one final swing at her, catching the left side of her head and pretty much guaranteeing a black eye for her the next morning. She let go of the handle of the knife as he dropped to the ground, gurgling and trying to make noise. He sounded like he was trying to speak, but couldn't. She'd destroyed his throat, and he was bleeding, choking on his own blood, unable to breathe.

Taking a small step backward, she bucked a little as she backed into the counter before side stepping away from him.
"Ohhhhhh... Shit," she murmured under her breath; the biggest understatement of the year. He was on the ground, bleeding, twitching, still making that horrible gurgling noise.
"Ohshitohshit!" she repeated, sounding a little more panicked. She watched him with seemingly cold indifference as he stopped moving. Thinking fast and reacting only on impulse, she lunged for the cellar door, opening it all the way before dragging the rather heavy body over to the stairs. It was amazing what the human body could accomplish running on adrenaline and panic.

Shutting the cellar door, she defeated the purpose of sticking him down there by leaving the blood trail leading down there. Grabbing her knapsack and his wallet, she shoved her feet into her shoes before bolting, making sure to close and lock the door behind her.

A soft groan echoed down the alleyway from where Casey was sprawled out in the back corner. She was tired, in pain, and now she was a murderer. Everything had happened so fast, and it had seemed like the only alternative. He was pissed, he'd broken at least a few of her ribs, and he was drunk. It would have come down to severe injury to her, or severe injury to him. His severe injury had ended in his death, it was as simple as that. Sitting up in the darkness, she felt around for the needle she knew was beside her. She'd saved that one last one after her afternoon adventure. Like deep down she'd know that she'd be using the heroin as a pain reliever, and a distraction from the fact that she was a murderer.

Injecting the heroin into her arm, she leaned back against the wall, enjoying the almost immediate rush of fantasticalness that accompanied a high. Her ribs no longer hurt, and the fact that she was now a murderer didn't seem to faze her for the moment. She was on top of the world until something came along and decided otherwise. Sighing quietly, she closed her eyes, aware that she was in a dark alley at three in the morning and that was a dangerous place for a young, unaccompanied, high female to be. She didn't seem to care though, enjoying the moment too much to be bothered with little facts like what was safe and what wasn't. How long she sat like that, she wasn't sure, but it felt like forever. Giving a little twitch, she felt pain stab into her side again, seeming to ruin the high as she crashed. Heroin was great, but it didn't last long.
"Fuuuck," she groaned again, before closing her eyes again, curling up on the pavement and slipping into a light doze.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

Shivering in his black shirt; arms wrapped tightly around his waist, Mat made his way towards an alley to hack up some unwanted food. The resident bulimic didnt care about loosing weight; it was just not eating that he was almost addicted to. Rather than risk death every day, Mat decided he would eat, let it settle for ten, fifteen minutes, then hack it up, and let other things, like raccoons or stray dogs, eat whatever was left in the vomit he would produce. He was covered in a cold sweat; was he sick? No; he was going through some kind of withdrawal; drug or alcohol, one could never be sure with this party boy.

Lost his family when he was about three, this boy knew foster homes like the back of his hand. Black hair fell into classicly blue eyes, a lip ring or two smacking against teeth. But the withdrawal was fighting its end now; any minute he would come around and return to the slightly sarcastic, happy Mat Grayves that everyone knew. Lost his innocence after his last foster home, this boy had run to the Hideout, searching for a reason to live and stay happy. They gave him the drugs or alcohol he needed, he lived and did their dirty work.

As he made his way towards the alley, a groan made him freeze. Who was it? Why was he suddenly afriad? Maybe because he was vunerable, scared, weak even? Nah, that couldn't be why. Pushing away all thoughts, Mat forced his body to uncramp itself, and he walked in, towards the shadowy form on a body, a person even. He brushed back black hair with a shakey hand; who was it? A cuss word left the person's lips and with a painful rememberance, he finally figured out who it was.

"Casey?"

Mat breathed, his breath a mess of mint and some vodka; but it wasnt terible. He moved closer and saw her, and bit his lip. Did her father get her again? He dropped down beside her and reached out to touch her arm, a curios look in his eyes.

[Casey Wilson]

Whether she actually managed to fall asleep or not was beyond her drug addled mind. The next thing she knew someone's voice was floating through her ear, into her mind, bringing her out of her unconsciousness and back to reality. Her name. The voice had spoken her name, but it had spoken it uncertainly, and voiced it as a question, as though it wasn't even sure that she was in fact Casey. Part of her wondered if there was even someone there at all.

She grudgingly cracked one eye open, the one that wasn't swollen shut, she peered up at the shadowy figure that, presumably, had spoken her name. The smell of mint and vodka seemed unnaturally strong on the speaker's breath, of course it was probably not that strong, and her senses were probably just fucked up. Sound was too loud, light was too bright, smells probably seemed a lot stronger than they actually were.

Giving her eyes a second to focus, she felt fingers on her arm and flinched ever so slightly, the skin on her arm jumping underneath Mat's fingers. It wasn't a flinch of pain, more a flinch of habit. Her gaze flickered over to the person bent down beside her, now with his hand on her arm.
"Mat?" she muttered, sounding just as uncertain as he was about her being Casey.
"What's goin' on?" she asked, voice a little slurred.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

"Mat?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Mat smiled weakly and took a hold of Casey's arm, wanting to hold her due to the fact that she looked sick, or hurt, or something. He brushed back some stray hair on her face, and watched her with blue eyes, wondering what had happened to her. Mat and Casey had a difficult background, but they were still friends; Mat looked out for Casey even if she didnt know it, which made him her permanent stalker.

"What's goin' on?"

"I... I was lookin' for you, Casey."

Mat lied; he wasnt going to tell her that he was here to vomit up some food. He moved closer, sitting beside her and watching her. He didnt know what else to say to her; she was here, hurt or sick or something, and he couldnt really do anything to help her other then talk. Another wave of the cold sweats covered his neck and shoulders, his face being wiped by a sudden warm breeze.

"What are you doin' out here all by yourself? Why aren't you at home?"

Mat asked, a little worried.

[Casey Wilson]

Casey smiled ever so slightly, shifting and half curling up against him. Mat was always there, he seemed to show up at the strangest, yet most convenient times. It almost seemed like he was a stalker or something. Nah. Mat was a lot of things, but a stalker didn't seem like something he would do. He was just conveniently... Always there. Stalkerish? Yes. Impossible? Not a chance. Giving her head a small shake upon having hair brushed out of her face, she gave a little wince of pain. The gash on the side of her face had started to clot with the hair Mat had just brushed away from her face in it.

"Oh," she said, peering up at Mat and giving him a look that seemed to ask him if he was her stalker or something. She didn't question it though, but she was a little worried. If he was looking for her, he had to know she wasn't at home, and the only sure way for him to know that she wasn't at home was for him to try and find her at home. Had he seen the massive puddle of blood that lead down to the cellar? If he had seen it, what had he done after that? As long as nobody knew what was going on, his body wouldn't be discovered for weeks- nobody came by the house, the bills were caught up, and the man never left the house anyway.

As he moved closer, she glanced around looking a little nervous. They'd be screwed if some gang of teenagers came along and decided to fuck around. She felt herself tense unintentionally though as he asked her why she was there. She couldn't tell him that she'd killed her father, dragged him into the cellar and run for it.
"I'm not going back, Mat. He's a... Fucking ass," she said softly- Mat knew about her life at home.
"That place... The Hideout... I'm goin' there... If I can find it," she added, making it sound like she was ready to hop on a bike and motor on over there or something. No, for now she was content to remain curled up half on the cement and half in Mat's lap.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

"I'm not going back, Mat. He's a... Fucking ass,"

Mat slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, brining her closer to him. He did know about her father and how he was such an ass to her; that was why Mat was so willing to just be with her. Nodding to her at the previous statement, he nodded again, just hoping to agree with her on what she was saying; his own foster family was just as bad as the last one.

"That place... The Hideout... I'm goin' there... If I can find it,"

"I've seen it before, Casey. I mean, I was followin' some kid around, and then they went into this field."

Mat said quietly. He always had an issue with his 'g's; even as a child, there was never a g after running or walking or anything. Mat looked down at her and smiled slightly.

"I'll come with you, if you want. I might have to go back to my place though, grab my stuff before we go."

[Casey Wilson]

Casey shifted a little more as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Why she was getting comfy, she wasn't sure. She wanted to get the hell out of there, soon. Knowing her luck, the neighbours would have taken it upon themselves to call the police again over the fact that they knew Casey was being abused. They wouldn't do anything though- they showed up, she "fell down the stairs" and that was the end of the story. She didn't tell them the truth because she'd heard some of Mat's stories about foster care, and didn't feel like being abused in different scenery.

Casey couldn't help it, when he mentioned that he'd seen the hideout because he'd been following some kid around, she started laughing. Seeing the hideout wasn't funny, no, that was a good thing, just the fact that he was following some kid around and happened across the hideout amused her. Ah Mat and his stalkerish ways, and it didn't seem like he was even INTENDING to have stalkerish tendencies, they just seemed to happen. Unless he was intentionally being a stalker, and was just good at acting like he wasn't intentionally being stalkerish.

"Mat, I think you have a stalker gene," she said with a bit of a giggle, slowly returning to her normal self. She grinned up at him, her grin growing as he offered to go with her to the hideout. Things were shitty at her place, and not so great at Mat's place, the hideout could be a chance to start a new life. It wouldn't change the fact that she was a murderer, but that was beside the point.
"Yeah! When do you wanna go?" she said excitedly and rather loudly, causing her head to spin a little.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

Hearing her laugh made Mat smile; a typical thing that Mat did around Casey. No matter what she did Mat ended up smiling about it at some point and time in the day. Rolling his eyes slightly, he heard her comment and allowed his mouth to drop ina mock gasp.

"Mat, I think you have a stalker gene,"

"Yea-I dont think so. Im just outrageously good at being quiet, and... following people around. Not really 'stalker' material, Casey."

Mat said, with a grin. He was just 'outrageously good' at following people, and if he was really determinded, he'd spend more time on being stealthy. Was that bad? Mat wondered about that for a minute, a frown on his lips as he thought about possibly being a future stalker person. But Casey's next comment pulled him out of his la la world.

"Yeah! When do you wanna go?"

"Uhh, tonight?"

Mat said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He grinned, as if the comment had made him laugh; which it almost did.

"You up for it, Caseface?"

[Casey Wilson]

Casey glanced up at Mat again, smirking ever so slightly at his thoughts of not being stalker material. No, he was definitely fit to be a stalker. Anyone who was even remotely good at following people around and being quiet had the possibility to be stalker material, but anyone who was capable of following Casey around and remaining quiet while doing so was definitely stalker material. Casey was hard to follow, hard to predict, and she was paranoid- any sound of movement behind her had her suspicious of something, or someone following her. Although, so long as Mat didn't go psychopathic stalker on her ass, she didn't mind his stalkerish antics.

Rolling her eyes in an over dramatic manner, she sat up a little too quickly, grimacing in pain as her ribs sent bolts of pain up her sides.
"You sure you can get there in the dark, without some kid you were following to lead us there?" she asked him, a bit of a smirk on her face. She wanted to go, but the last thing she wanted was to end up lost somewhere and injured. As she sat up, the moonlight caught on her shirt, the front was stained with blood. There was much too much blood there for it to have been strictly from the gash on her forehead.

"I'm up for it as long as I can borrow clothes from your place... And perhaps a Tylenol or twelve," she said, not too keen on being questioned about the blood on her clothing when they got to the hideout. She might not even have to borrow anything, she'd left a lot of things randomly at his place, and knew that there was at least a sweater of hers there. Granted, she'd stolen the sweater from him to begin with, but that wasn't the point.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

"You sure you can get there in the dark, without some kid you were following to lead us there?"

A moment of silence.

"Yeah, most likely."

Mat finally agreed. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping that he would be able to remember the way without getting successfully lost. Oh well. A wrong right turn always made it a left hmm? Mat laughed silently at his own comment, before looking at Casey as the moonlight hit her shirt. As the blood stain was exposed, Mat noticed that the cut on her forehead wasnt that bad to have a huge stain on her shirt.

But before he could start questioning her, she began to talk. Mat crossed his arms, waiting for her to finish.

"I'm up for it as long as I can borrow clothes from your place... And perhaps a Tylenol or twelve,"

"Alright. We might as well start walking now."

Mat said, loosing his ability to question Casey. He got up and held his hand out for Casey to take, a slight smile on his lips.

[Casey Wilson]

"Most likely... Mat if we get lost, so help me God I will... Okay, I don't know what I'll do, but you can expect to be reminded of it every single time you think you know which direction we're supposed to be going in. Just know that," she said, grinning playfully despite the fact that everything hurt, and she really didn't want to move at all, never mind getting lost in the middle of the night when there was the potential for creepers a lurkin' around every corner. Following his gaze, she glanced down at her shirt. It looked bad. Head wounds bled a lot, but not that bad. If she'd lost as much blood as was on her shirt, she would have certainly passed out.

Biting her lip in the first action of nervousness that night, she awaited his questioning with some anxiety. Even as she stabbed her father and watched him die, she hadn't been nervous. A little panicky, but not quite nervous. Why did Mat questioning her about the blood on her shirt make her nervous? Because if he asked, she'd be obliged to lie to him, and she didn't like lying to people. That was a lie. She liked lying to people, but she didn't like lying to people that she gave a damn about.

When the question didn't come, she breathed out the breath that she'd been unintentionally holding in. She wasn't so sure about leaving the safety of the alleyway. If a police car were to drive past them and catch sight of her shirt, there would be questions. Shrugging off the nervousness at leaving what she'd come to see as a safe place, she took Mat's hand, pulling herself up with a hard to disguise grimace of pain.
"What if your parents wake up?" she asked.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

"Most likely... Mat if we get lost, so help me God I will... Okay, I don't know what I'll do, but you can expect to be reminded of it every single time you think you know which direction we're supposed to be going in. Just know that,"

"Thanks for the support, Casey."

Mat said, giving her a thumbs up. He really did want to tell her, errrm, ask her about the blood on her shirt, or on her head, and why she was out here when she's usually at home after her father had done something like this to her before. Mat didnt hear any sirens or anything of the sort that could mean that Casey had called the cops or her neighbours or someone... could something had happened? Maybe Casey got mugged? Ideas ran through Mat's head and he then looked back at Casey as he helped her stand, and smiled lightly at her.

"What if your parents wake up?"

"What if the roof collaspes on us? Casey, if they wake up, so what. The worst that can happen is that they'll yell at me, and then I'll just tell them Im going to your place or something and then they'll go back to bed. They're my parents, they wont care."

Mat replied as he then began walking back in the general direction of where he lived. It was then that he began to map out a route to the Hideout, a place like the Room of Requirement; it'll only come to you if you really need it.

[Casey Wilson]

Casey grinned, returning his thumbs up.
"Tis more support than anyone else has ever gotten from me," she informed him matter of factly. Though that was far from the truth. Casey hated people, but the few people she did like, she was supportive of, to the point that she ended up getting on their nerves nine times out of ten. She seemed to get on people's nerves a lot though. Glancing over at him she couldn't help but notice that look in his eye.

He wanted to question her, things were really out of whack. Her head had bled, but the gash wasn't big enough to soak the entire front of her shirt. She wasn't at home- most cases when she was beat up like this, she hid out in her bedroom until her father calmed down, then stayed out of his way for a few days before resuming life as though nothing had happened. It was rare for anyone to see her after she'd taken a beating, even Matt had only seen her once, and that was because he'd shown up at her place once a few hours after.

"At least if the roof collapses on us we'll die quick deaths," she muttered, biting her lower lip lightly. She shook her head insistently as he told her of his plan to tell them that he was sleeping over at her place.
"Not my place. If you tell them you're going to my place and don't come back tomorrow, they'll go to my place looking for you. Dad's getting worse when he's drunk- a few days ago he punched some random old lady who cut in line at the grocery store. Besides, they'll figure out we left together, which isn't good. We want 'em to know as little as possible," she said, making it sound as though she just didn't want to be found, when really she was simply trying to cover her own ass.

As they began walking towards his house, she finally let go of his hand, only then realizing that she hadn't let it go after she'd been pulled to her feet.

[Mat Grayves]

m a t g r a y v e s

pretty boy, ugly world.[/center][/size][/font]

"Not my place. If you tell them you're going to my place and don't come back tomorrow, they'll go to my place looking for you. Dad's getting worse when he's drunk- a few days ago he punched some random old lady who cut in line at the grocery store. Besides, they'll figure out we left together, which isn't good. We want 'em to know as little as possible,"

"...M'kayy, then. I'll just hop in to my place, grab what i need, and then we'll sca-doodle, alright?"

Mat said softly, smiling. He didnt catch her previous comment though, which was good cause then he would have had to go all not-emo Mat on her ass. As she let go of her hand, it was then that he finally realized that he had been holding it. Glad that it was dark, Mat allowed the blush to creep up his neck then settle on its faint pink color, adding some life to his pale skin tone. As the neared his place, he slowed, as if he was worred about going in. All the lights were off but one; his parents.

As they reached the door, he fished a key out of his pocket then unlocked the front door. He beckoned for Casey to come in. Silently, he toed his shoes off and then pointed at the lundry room, which was just off to the left of the two.

"Go in there, shut the door, and turn the light on. I have to grab a bag. Most of my clothes are ontop of the dryer, so just help yourself to one of my shirts."

Mat said, before running almost silently up the steps and ducking into a room.

[Casey Wilson]

Casey smirked at him as he spoke.
"I believe it's skee-daddle, not ska-doodle, although I'm sure the dictionary would argue that skee, and daddle are in fact, not words at all," she corrected him, sliding back into her ever-so-obsessive compulsive personality. Slipping her hands into her pockets, she glanced up at his house as they approached it, slowing down behind Mat. She didn't know the layout of his house well, but there was only one light on upstairs, implying that either he'd left his bedroom light on before leaving, someone had forgotten to turn the bathroom light off, or his parents were up.

All at once, the whole thing seemed like a really bad idea. But before she could voice her concerns and inform Mat that they gave you clothing and whatnot at The Hideout if you needed it, he was at the front door. Sighing wearily, she crept up the driveway after him, not bothering to voice the feeling that it was a bad idea- that would make it an even worse idea. Following into the house, she mirrored his actions by shuffling out of her overly worn out shoes. She nodded, but didn't move just yet as he told her to go into the laundry room. Watching him run upstairs, she quietly slipped into the laundry room, shutting the door and turning the light on with a grimace as her eyes screamed in protest.

Heading straight for the dryer, she proceeded to hunt through the pile of clothing on top of it, discovering a shirt that depicted the reason stick people were extinct. Satisfied with the shirt, she tugged off her own, unhappy to find that the blood had left a stain on her stomach as well. She'd have to shower as soon as the opportunity arose. Pulling Mat's shirt on, she found a bag and tossed her own shirt in, intending to burn it before people could get suspicious and start questioning her as to why her father seemed to have disappeared. Feeling a little better about the night's events, she climbed up onto the washer and sat on it, waiting for Mat to come back.