HUNGER ━━ until dawn

005. intruder

“Is she okay?” Whoever's voice it was didn’t matter. Trick was too focused on the pain his sister was going through. Had he somehow been the cause? No, that didn’t make sense. It was terror she was feeling, not sadness. Maybe it was both, maybe it was all Trick's fault, maybe—

“What the hell, asshole?” Trick gave Chris a shove with one hand, his other clenching Sloane's tightly. It was easier to direct his rage outward.

“Wh—I didn’t know she was gonna do that,” Chris protested weakly, but pushed forward, retrieving a key from his pocket and unlocking the door.

Hooking an arm under Sloane and pushing the door open with her foot, Sam attempted to pull Sloane to her feet. “Get her on a couch,” She ordered, worried crease in her brow.

The girl refused to move. Still in her ball, still sobbing, mascara streaking her cheeks. It was an odd view for Trick. Even when he visited her in hospital, she was always smiling, always positive. Never once had he seen her cry—until now. A panic of his own set in and he tugged on Sloane's arm.

“Sloane, get up,” He ordered, voice strained. It was like she couldn’t hear him. “Stop fucking around. Get. Up.”

Shit, fuck, why did he sound so familiar all of a sudden? The memory was probing at the back of his mind, clawing its way to the surface. Something he'd experienced countless times before but had blocked out. Realisation hit him like a slap across his face, the slap he always thought was coming. He sounded exactly like his step-dad. The constant berating and shouting that wormed its way into his subconscious, filling him with dread and insecurity. Are you kidding me, Tristan? You're so fucking useless! or Oh, you're sad again? Fucking excuses!

Trick wouldn’t be that. He wouldn’t allow himself to turn into heartless piece of shit. With all the strength he could muster, Trick lowered his voice to a softness he didn’t know was possible to be directed at his sister.

“Sloane, hey, look at me,” He started. She shook but forced herself to meet his gaze. An unsure hand cupped her cheek, and Trick searched his mind for how he should act. What did Josh say earlier? Oh, right. “Honey, c'mon, we're gonna get you sat on a couch, okay?”

A started look overtook her face. For a second, Trick wondered if he'd made a mistake—if he'd made the whole thing worse. But she was uncurling herself, allowing him to grab both of her hands and leading her into the living room. Now that he could get a good look at her, Trick came to the conclusion that Sloane was having a panic attack. He'd helped Josh through a few and he'd stood by, helplessly, as Ashley suffered through one.

Once Sloane was perched on the edge of the couch, Trick gripped her hands tightly in his. “You're okay, alright? Nothing's gonna get you. I'm right here, I won't let them,” Trick insisted and wiped his eyes on his shoulder to hide the tears threatening to appear.

“Is she okay?” Ashley asked, ouija board hanging limply in her hand by her side. She exchanged a few words with Chris, then delivered a push to his chest. Most likely being told about the prank.

Sloane seemed to be calming down some now, pulling her hands away from her brother's to rub at her eyes. “I'm sorry,” She mumbled, “I'm a mess.”

Gently, Trick placed his hands on her jittering legs and forced them to still. “You're a mess? Have you seen me?” He laughed a little, which prompted her to giggle.

“Here, take this,” Ashley waved a yellow candy toward Sloane. “Lemon drop. It helps.”

Sloane reached forward to grab it but her hands were shaking so hard the lemon drop nearly fell from her grip. Trick took it from her and quickly unwrapped it, popping it in her mouth before she could even ask him to. He wasn’t sure if it would do any good, but Ashley was the most anxious one in the group and he—to his own disbelief—trusted her judgement.