Resisting the urge to squeeze out every cent that Boyd owes, you turn away from the box full of electronics and wait for him to bumble back in. A low roar comes from outside, shortly followed by your name called out. Wanting nothing more than to get this over with, you step out and prepare to try and move this along as soon as possible.


Out of the backdoor, with a toothy grin on his face, Boyd stands beside a rumbling red bike at hand. "Pretty uh...pretty cool, huh?" he somehow shouts over the engine, turning it off when it proves too loud for his wasted self. "It's a uh... Kawa-somethin', GP- uh...GPZ whatever the number on the side is. One thousand hundred. Got it from uh...where'd I get this...from. Some guy kicked the bucket or somethin', girlfriend didn' know what it was really worth. Jus' got it runnin' earlier... haven't gotten to uh, show it off yet."


Boyd holds out the keys in an inviting manner, the way he had done several times years ago.

This time, you shake your head at the offer.

"Whu'? You don' wanna ride? That's uh, that's alright. I'll jus' leave these keys in here for ya..." Boyd returns the key back to the ignition, patting the seat. "Now if you'll ex-cuse me. I'm either bout to pass out or puke and I'd rather do it uh...inside. See you 'round, Law." You wait outside, just long enough to make sure he gets inside. Looking back at the motorcycle, you can't help but wonder if he'd always been like this, or if you grew up while he tried to cling to the past.


Not wanting to waste any more time out in the dark, you give the red bike one last look before returning to your car. It wouldn't be surprise you if there was news of Boyd's early death in the paper one of these days.

...


[1/4]

The drive back to the house is short, much too short. During that time you managed to kill through three cigarettes and practically the remainder of your pack, keeping the last one for later. There's a creeping feeling in your gut, like some teenager about to go home and admit the bad things he did. Except this time, you're letting them know that their only remaining child is running away and might really never come back.


You spend much longer than you should in the dark driveway, trying to get your bearings in order. Out of desperation, you take out the notebook and start to scribble down in the pages. It takes a couple of tries, scratching out and starting over again, but somehow you manage to write down something that you consider bearable. The entire trip to the front door, you try to plan how this should all go down. Your dad already knows what's about to happen, he'll probably help keep your mom calm. Delilah should go upstairs in the meantime, and then you just have to pass over the letter you wrote. Get through that, go to bed, and then get through tomorrow till Crockett gets here. Easy enough- you've gotten through worse.


"Oh, welcome back sweetie." From the kitchen, your mother greets you without any idea of what's about to happen. She stops her search in the cabinet, your father sitting in the living room. "Can't find where I put my wine... Hm? You okay?" Not one to miss out on the smallest detail, she can undoubtedly tell that you have something heavy weighing on your chest. With a dry mouth you nod, but it's clear as day that there's something about to go down. Your mother gives up the search, coming into the living room now. Right away you search for Delilah, and the panic on your face when she doesn't show up must be more than enough to alert your mother.


"Looking for your friend? She's upstairs... Seems like she's real squeamish. Jacks was messing with one of the window panes in the garage and nicked himself. Nothing bad, just had some blood running down his wrist. I was more worried about her passing out from it, if anything. But I helped her lay down a while ago... she's been down once or twice but she's trying to sleep it off I think." You don't doubt that she's concerned about her, but her words sound stressed.


"Need talk. Both...of you." Giving a quick glance over to your father and back, you can barely stomach the look heartbreak that already overcomes your mother's face.

...

[2/4]

All you can do is sit on the couch with your head bent down, waiting for them to finish the letter you wrote out.

I never wanted to be a burden for either of you
All I've done is hurt you both, inconveniencing and using your hospitality and just bringing bad news
There's been a lot of mistakes I've made, and tomorrow night I'm leaving with the girl again
I have no idea when, or if, I'll end up coming home again


A short letter, but your mother keeps reading it over and over again. Her hand begins to shake with each read through, choking up as your father finally tries to process the fact that you really are leaving again.

"Lawrence..." your mother sobs, page still in her hand as her head collapses in them. "D-Do you really have to go...? S-So soon?"

"I'm pretty sure he does, Delilah." Your father can barely offer any comfort to her, her shoulders starting to shake as she can't even look at you.


"I'm sorry." Forcing yourself to look up at them, you repeat it again. "I'm sorry. For not...being better." It only takes a second before her arms wrap around you, refusing to let go. It continues on for some time, enough for you to return it back.

"Please stay safe for me..." she whispers, embracing you tighter, "Please Lawrence. Don't get hurt anymore..."

It's nothing you can promise, and you're sure she knows that.

...


Her tears don't stop, but your mother finally lets go. More distressed than she had been earlier, she tries to hide it anyways. "No kid wants to keep living with their parents anyways, right?' she tries to say, even if it doesn't apply to this situation at all. "At l-least you gave us a heads up this time... I'll have to make sure to make your f-...favorite breakfast then. And um..." she loses her train of thought, rubbing her temple. "I'm sure you had a long day...you probably want to s-sleep right now instead of listening to me nag. I should go lay d-down too. You did say tomorrow night, right?"


You nod, but it's still much too soon for her. She goes to the bedroom, your father getting up to follow. You expect him to just walk on by, but you're met with a quick and rare embrace by your old man. "You really do need to stay safe out there, we worry about you enough.." And just as quickly as it happens, he lets you go and you're standing alone in the living room. You're glad there wasn't more of a fight, but it doesn't make this feel any better. Tomorrow is going to be harder, and you aren't ready for it.

[3/4]

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All you can do now is climb up the stairs, coming over to the closed door of Delilah's room. You give a quick knock but don't receive an answer, guessing that she either needs her own time alone or has fallen asleep. You retreat back to what might be the last night in your bedroom, letting the door swing close as you hardly make an effort to undress. Shirt comes unbuttoned and falls to the ground before you collapse back onto the mattress.

Your eyes remain close easily enough, even if your mind buzzes too much to fall asleep. Instead, you just come and go, minutes passing by like seconds. The time that you're asleep finally begins to stretch out longer, ready to wake up in morning.


A click against the nightstand and the creak of the mattress wakes you up before the warm weight on top of you does. Bare legs press against the exposed skin between your undershirt and jeans, Delilah looking down at you while once again wearing the oversized shirt she took. You start to sit up, only managing to prop yourself up on elbows to keep her from falling backwards.

"Are you awake?" she asks, a sweet smell coming from her breath as you nod. Messy dark hair surround her face and as your eyes adjust to the darkness, a deep red splashed across her face.


"Can't...sleep?" you ask, looking over to the nightstand. You find the wine your mother had been looking for earlier, opened and partially emptied.

"I tried to. My head's been hurting all night..." Delilah mumbles, "Not so much anymore."

[4/5whoopsie]

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You start to reach for the wine bottle but she grabs it back in her arms, scared you'll take it away. "It's okay, I only drank a little bit. I just wanted my head to stop feeling weird. My head was hurting and you weren't here and I didn't know what to do...I just wanted to make it stop."

"Dad?" you ask.

"Y-Yeah... I thought I was going to be fine, but then I smelt it and I got scared. I thought if I just s-stayed away for a bit then my headache would go away b-but it wouldn't. I didn't want to s-...steal from your mom but-"

"It's okay." you slowly reach for the bottle again but Delilah hugs it closer to her chest.

"It's not the same as when I get to have um...that, but it doesn't feel like I'm going to die anymore. And I think I can...that I want to um..." Delilah stutters for her thought before setting the bottle beside her and lifting up the bottom of her shirt, giving you a glimpse of the white fabric underneath. Your knee-jerk reaction is to cover her up once more, and in retaliation your hand is grabbed and the palm pressed against the small squish of her chest.

"Stop." you mumble, trying to sit up better now.

"It's okay. I swear. I don't feel s-scared, I um...Here." The bottle is grabbed and she holds it out as an offering to you. "If it m-makes it easier for you... I think it does for me."

"No- Why...now?" Try not to upset her too much, even if that looks to be impossible at this point.

"Because I love you and I n-need to make sure that you're...that you're mine..." She looks both embarrassed and scared by the rejection, her words sounding spent rather than drunkenly slurred. "I p-promise it won't be like b-before. I won't f-freak out and I'm ready and I can't let someone l-like V-... " Her body shakes for a bit as she leans in closer, putting a hand on your chin and she looks down at you with sad gray eyes.

"P-Please accept me, Lawrence."


>Absolutely not. Take Delilah back to her room if you need to.
>Delilah sounds ready to fall asleep, stall till she does
> Do what Delilah wants- You can tell this isn't going to get far
>Write-In

Birthday Quest will finish, I just have too much school stuff atm for a drawquest, but i will finish running it

>>1402030
>Absolutely not. Take Delilah back to her room if you need to.

>>1402030
>Delilah sounds ready to fall asleep, stall till she does
Shouldn't have left her alone somewhere strange for this long. Would be easier to deal with lulling her to sleep than the backlash from rejection.

>>1402030
Do what she wants.

>>1402030
>Delilah sounds ready to fall asleep, stall till she does

Don't make a bad problem worse

>>1402030
>Delilah sounds ready to fall asleep, stall till she does

You take the wine, setting it back on the table. Delilah opens her mouth to try and argue for case again, you're not telling her no- at least, not outright. Even when all you do is lay a hand against her hip she flinches back, only to act like it hadn't happened. Still moments pass at Delilah watches you, unsure if you're accepting her or not. Her eyes flutter close a few times, her body slumping a little more forward as she struggles to keep awake.

Wanting to keep herself awake, Delilah sits up tall and tries to think about what to do next. You try to wait it out, wanting her to chicken out and opt for sleep instead.


"I uhm..." With quick shaky movements she lifts the bottom of the shirt again. She tries to show off the white underneath, but only manages a few inches. "Th-These are my s-...se-... n-nice panties. Sarah told me to wear these when I w-want to feel um, confident and s-stuff." She waits for a reaction from you, becoming flustered when she doesn't receive one. In return her hips begin moving, the motions mechanical and awkward as she tries to figure out what is 'right'.


A dangerous move on her part as you can already see her eyes brimming over as she fights the urge to run away from this. "S-Sorry I'm not very good..." she apologizes, seeing the lack of a reaction as her fault, "I promise to get b-better at it, I'll g-get better for you..." The promise leaves her lips and Delilahs pauses at once. "It's okay... it's for Lawrence..." Over and over she repeats both sentences, using this as motivation to try again.


Her movements become hindered when you pull her down, stopping again in surprise. Allowing one hand to rest against her lower back, you feign interest for the sake of holding her still. This resonates as a yes to Delilah, letting out a sigh of relief against your neck. Her motions begin again, albeit with a much smaller range of motion. Her eyes remain closed, but her hands don't stop moving quite yet. She's determined to get your other hand against her chest once more, trying to keep it in place. There's only satisfaction when your thumb and palm rest on the slight curve.

[1/2]

"Is this right...?" she mummers, not expecting an answer as she sighs in a weary tone. She manages to slink a hand to right inside her thighs, scared to go further. "I've been w-working on it... On g-getting used to being t-tou-..." Her breath shakes in a quiet cry and you don't dare to move a muscle, trying to hold her as motionless as you can. Her motions slow on their own and her words turn to yawns, the breathing against you coming to a slow.


"I can do it Lawrence... I can..." she whispers, scratching her damp cheek against your rougher one.

"Yeah." you answer, brushing through her hair now instead of needing to hold her still. It feels like she's going to fall asleep finally, growing quieter. Almost safe enough to sleep, her steady breath starts to become uneasy and hitched again.

"Lawrence..." Delilah whimpers, gripping your undershirt between her fingers. "I'm b-bad at this, I'm s-sorry... I'm t-trying. I want to t-try for you, I want to d-do good, I-...I wanna make sure you don't leave meee..." She's unable to keep it together now, curling up and trying to cover her face in shame. "H-Help me... want to-...better than-...-ssa..."


You're ready to explain that now isn't the time, that she isn't ready, that it's not a good idea in general- a long list of why this shouldn't be happening. Trying to get her attention, her eyes look up at you and a rush of painful panic ricochets through your chest. The way she looks at you with those big heartbroken eyes make your head rush and feel on edge, chest becoming tight. Your blood starts to boil like you should act, do whatever it takes to make Delilah stop crying. You're the one that's supposed to take care of her, to make sure that she doesn't get hurt, that she has what she needs, to make her not cry-

There's a small moment of clarity where you remember this shouldn't happen. She'll give up soon, and like your anger you just need to ignore this feeling too.

Don't be a fuck up


>Ignore the feeling and calm Delilah
Roll 1d100, best of three

>Don't fight it
>Walk Out

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>1403959
>Ignore the feeling and calm Delilah

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>1403959
>Ignore the feeling and calm Delilah

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>1403959
>>Ignore the feeling and calm Delilah
>Roll 1d100, best of three

File: trump but anime.png (363 KB, 570x700)

363 KB PNG

dice+1d100

>>1403959

Chug what's left of the bottle and grab her by the pussy.

File: deletthis.png (240 KB, 662x540)

240 KB PNG

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>1404521
Well I fucked that up but maybe my fortune is about to turn.

>>1404524
>Rolled 3 (1d100)
>Well I fucked that up but maybe my fortune is about to turn.
I doubt it.

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>>1404532
"dice+1d100"
I suppose the consolation is that I do not have a crippling gambling addiction.

>>1404547
”You might be a smaht anon, but you ain't a lucky one.”

File: 1461779769573.jpg (45 KB, 500x458)

45 KB JPG

>>1404590
I just want to get this "Lawrence and Delilah have sex" thing over with so we can stop revisiting this every couple threads.

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>1404605
Would make matter worse. She's already struggling with the thought that the only way she can make someone happy, to not hurt her, is by having sex with them.

File: Spoiler Image (1.52 MB, 500x282)

1.52 MB GIF

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>1404636
I never said it would make things better. I just said it would settle once and for all this recurring theme of Delilah and Lawrence's relationship having this weird sexuality written into it.

The pain in your chest is tough but somehow, you push past it. Not that it doesn't feel like there's a storm of heat and dread spreading through your chest right now. Even when Delilah's face hides against you again the fire inside continues to spread. Pushed too close to the edge, too anxious and too worked up over something you shouldn't be.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..." Delilah cries to you, giving up her struggle. Despite using what remains of her energy to apologize to you for trying this, your chest continues to burn. At one point you consider taking the wine as a way to dull the pain, but you don't want to risk anything.


The pain remains after she sobs her way into slumber, and you begin to worry that this might be something that will last forever.

It does begin to ebb away, leaving your chest feeling sore and your nerves all wound up. The tension doesn't fade away, heart pounding painfully when you dare to move even a little. You try the usual tricks to calm down, the methods you've resorted to before when everything goes red.


Your counting goes well in to the triple digits, and your harsh heartbeat making you lose track a few times through. It does little in calming you down and more than enough to keep you wide awake. Trying to listen to the deep and methodical breathing from Delilah doesn't help either. Instead you catch every little creak and groan from the house.

There's something wrong with you, and you have no idea how to fix it.


...

For most of the night you're too wound up to sleep, but somehow your nerves start to settle. A little bit at least, you manage to get a few moments of sleep. All the efforts you took to calm down go out the window with just a short knock at the door. You finally let go of Delilah for the first time in hours, still mostly dressed from yesterday and your head whirling. Outside waits your father, dressed up ready to go. Rather than attempt to cover up the scene of Delilah laying in your bed with a bottle of wine next by you step out, closing the door behind.


"Sorry bout waking you up this early," he says with a newspaper tucked beneath his arm, "I have a bit of a drive today though and I need to head out early. Del wanted me to stay for breakfast but ah..." He pauses for thought, looking nearly as tired as you do right now. Your father turns away for a moment, swallowing hard and scratching at the gray hairs on his chin. "I uh, hope I'm back before you head out but I figured I'd come see you now just in case. It really is hard to see you go again, you know?"

[1/2]

You muster up a nod, failing to calm down right now. The fear of talking with your father had disappeared after your return, yet now it feels like you should be on the defense. The worst part is that, had it been your mother standing here, you'd probably be feeling the same.


"Erm, also I wanted to ask you a question before I left..." It seems like he can tell something is wrong with you, even if he can't tell why. The newspaper comes out, unfolding as he continues to talk. "Was just reading it earlier, you heard about that big apartment fire that happened? The one that happened with that widow? Figured you might have heard something about it, since you were uh, living over there. The woman is in the hospital and they found bone remnants that they think belonged to her daughter, but uh..."


He stares at the page in the paper, finally turning it around to show. Both Delilah and her mother have a small picture next to the story, only a little bit of attention given to them.


"Now, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. But that girl struck me as familiar, and you mentioned she was a run away." His finger taps on Delilah's image, as he asks you in a clear and concise tone;

"Is this the girl you brought here?"

>Tell him the truth
>Lie
>Pretend you never heard about the story
>Write-in

>>1406317
>Tell him the truth
No sense in lying. Worst-case scenario we have to justify this, but at least dad's instincts seems to suggest he believe we'll do the right thing.

>>1406317
Truth

This shit still alive?

>>1407170
Yes

Reluctantly, you nod. His face pales in return, looking back at the picture.


"Jesus... Thought it might have been my eyes being bad again. Wasn't going to bring it up but felt like I couldn't forget about it unless I made sure... Does she know what happened? Or about her-" he drops his voice to a whisper, "...or about her mother? Or did she run away because of it?"

"Ran away. Then fire." The initial strike of adrenaline begins to die down, but not your guard.

"So that means a different girl died in the house?" This time you shrug, unable to offer up any new information. "Did you know her before it happened? Did you know they're assuming she's dead? Christ, Lawrence if the wrong person finds out that you've been running all over with her, what if they peg you down as some sort of kidnapper or-" He stops short, leaving the rest of his thought up in the air. You're listening to him, but at the same time looking towards the stairs with an irrational tic. There's no reason to fear someone walking up, yet you remain unsettled.


"Don't tell her." You're brought back to attention as he folds the newspaper back under his arm. "Delilah- er, your mom. It'd just stress her out more right now and she really doesn't need that. I don't know what the hell you're doing with her, but your my son. I need to trust you."

"Th-...Thanks, Dad."

"So don't go make me regret this decision, alright? Else I'll never hear the end of it..." He checks over the stairs himself before leaning in closer to you. "Like I said, I want to get back before you leave, but just try to make your mom happy while you're still here. Could barely get her to sleep last night, she's really broken up over this."


You start to nod in agreement, but your father snaps to make you look at him.

"But if you have to leave, then you have to leave. Don't let her try to convince you to stay. I know we both would want you to stay longer but if there's something you've gotta do, then, you know... Gotta do it." Now he puts a hand on your shoulder and adds, "Staying an extra night isn't going to make it any easier for her. Remember that."

"Yeah." Unknowingly you lean against the door and fight back a yawn.

[1/2]

"Looks like you didn't sleep much either. Still pretty early, and Del knows you like to sleep in. Just try to keep her happy and uh, I hope I'll see you again soon."

"Do my...best." Better not promise to come back, just in case it's not something you can keep.

"All I want from you." He looks ready to speak again but stops, backing off to the stairs. "If I want to get back soon I better head out now." Watching him step down the stairs you can't help but start grabbing at your chest again. You aren't sure how long you can last feeling like this.


From the looks of outside you'd have to guess that it really is early, some time before six. You return to the bed, sulking at the edge as you try to calm down. The small meditation from counting isn't helping and you start to worry again. The untouched bottle looks all the more appealing and you start to reach out for it.

"...are you leaving?" Delilah's voice makes you retract instantly.

"No. Said bye...to dad." She sits up, looking more tousled up than usual. Her eyes squint in slight pain as she touches over her forehead.


"Okay." Delilah falls back to the pillow, burying her face. Mumbling into the material, you ask what she said. "I'm sorry..." she says clearer, turning her face to the side. "I just w-wanted to..." Her face becomes flustered and it gets buried in the pillowcase again.

"...my pictures..." she manages to say after some time, "I w-was thinking about my stuff that g-got taken and the p-pictures we took together are missing. All I have is the o-one of you and Va-..." Your heart rate starts to spike up again, though not as it had been last night.


You have the urge to help Delilah again, but this time:

>You'll go and buy her a disposable camera
>See if there's any pictures around the house she can have
>Offer her blood to calm down
>Write-in

>>1407434
Both a Disposable Camera and Blood

>>1407434
>Offer her blood to calm down
There'll be Kodak moments in the future.

>>1407434
>You'll go and buy her a disposable camera

>>1407434
>Offer her blood to calm down
While a camera would be a sweet gesture we're not going somewhere it can be easily developed and mom would notice pictures missing

Her missing pictures are just a small part of what's wrong, but it's just one of the little things that adds up to her stress. It'd be easy to replace them, but at a later time. Once she's somewhere that doesn't require a fake name and tiptoeing around then you'll help her take new pictures. But the burning in your chest right now tells you that trying to ignore her problem isn't going to work right now, and you're going to have to take care of it.

Delilah watches you rummage around in your packed things, unaware of what you're trying to do. Upon finding an X-Acto knife you return to the bed, taking off the cap and checking the blade. Doesn't look dirty, seems sharp enough, your chest burns like hell.


Without a word you do a quick, short drag across the back of your arm. Deeper than you wanted, but it's nothing compared to the fire you already feel. Delilah stares dismally at the red making its path down your arm, but instinct takes over what she actually wants. Only a few drops manage to stain your jeans before she gets to it, actually having to stop and pull away to get the tears off her face. It doesn't take too long for her sorrow of the lost pictures to quell, putting all focus on your arm.

She's taking it slow, not digging her her fingers into you like before. There's calm that starts to take over the anxiety in your chest as time passes, the pain in your chest dying down with a lightheaded buzz. Despite having your arm gashed open like this, you feel okay. The edge is fading, almost enough to make you forget it.

Almost.


When she stops to catch her breath, you can definitely still feel the burn remain in your chest. Not nearly as bad as before, but not quite enough for you to ignore either. As you start to piece together what's going on, Delilah looks up at you with blood streaked across her lips.

"Should I s-stop now..." she asks, eyebrows furrowed down still. "I think this is enough for my headache..."


>She's trying to show restraint, stop now
>Let her keep going
>Write-in

>>1408464
>stop now

>>1408464
>She's trying to show restraint, stop now

>>1408464
>She's trying to show restraint, stop now

>>1408464
Rape her.

With your approval to stop, Delilah backs away. Her body sits up awake, a nervous laugh and grin she can't keep off her face. The smile doesn't go to her eyes, chuckle turning into a sigh.


"I didn't want to do this here, in their house..." Absentmindedly she reaches up to feel over her lips, your red still covering them. "I didn't w-want to do this in your p-parent's house..." It doesn't stop her from licking it off, looking up at you before letting out yet another jittery laugh. "Sorry-...sorry..." Delilah lets them out as airy laughs, falling against the pillow again. "Dumb.. I'm acting so dumb..."


Going through the best part of her high trying not to cry again, you offer hand against her back. Trying to let Delilah know she's not alone right now, you end up starring off distracted. The loopy attitude she gets from this is something you had already gotten prepared for, not something you liked but could live with. Her doing this wasn't something that seemed to harm you- nothing you couldn't easily recovered from. Doing this the first time was weird, even terrifying. It hadn't been a problem when you grew accustomed to it. You were happy to help Delilah, to the point of offering her your health. A horror that turned into a regular occurrence.


"Um, Lawrence...?" Delilah sniffs, leaning up as you finally turn to look at her. "I think you're still ummm...ya know..." She finally draws attention to your bleeding arm, running over your hand and dripping to the sheets.

You grow even more worried about the buzz growing in your head.


...

With dirtied sheets at hand, you sneak over to the washing machine. Delilah stays behind in your room, trying to revel in her remaining peak and calming down. The machine rumbles a little loud for your liking, but you still remain in the laundry room. The buzz hasn't grown much more, but you can certainly feel it as your touch your forehead. Not quite a normal high and not quite like when you drink, it feels close to being enjoyable.

[1/2]

Your fingers feel over the short hairs sprouting across your face, trying to keep your thoughts straight. Keep trying to recall if this feeling is completely new, or if it snuck up in the past. Sure you had gotten a little too used to doing this for Delilah, but you never felt rewarded. The pain has all but extinguish, but the anxiety remains. The idea of the pain returning soon horrifies you, if it takes Delilah doing that to keep it away-


"Lawrence, stop that!" A hand reaches out and slaps yours away, cheek feeling on fire.

"Huh-" This time you pulled down to meet your mother eye to eye, her free hand reaching up for your face.

"Your stitches!" your mother cries out, "You were picking at your stitches!" Right away your palm comes to cover your cheek, feeling a warm wetness dot against your skin. There's no arguing against it when your mother rushes you to the kitchen, sitting you at the table.

"My poor baby..." she coos, stopping the bleeding easily, "Are these hurting you? One of them looks different, did you get this done at the hospital? Why were you messing with them?"


"Didn't...realize-" The only answer you manage before being made quiet by her hand holding your chin up.

"You really need to get this looked at, we could call someone to come here if you wanted. We've had to call down for Jacks, it shouldn't be a problem." She looks over the work so far, sighing as she realizes that her son isn't going to heal nice.

"C-Coffee. Please."

"Oh, yes. Of course sweetie, Jacks should have left some." Your mother is hesitant to pull away, forcing herself to get a mug ready. "Only if you're sure that it isn't going to hurt you to drink."


"Inside...fine. " It doesn't feel like you managed to get too deep, but you're shocked about not feeling it earlier.

"Inside of- oh, your cheek. Okay, just maybe wait for this to cool down first." The cup comes to rest in front of you, a second one in her hand as she comes to sit too. "I'll get started on breakfast soon, if you're sure we don't need to take care of that-"


"Is fine." You give a shaky smile, drinking and hoping you don't look too paranoid to her.

"Right okay, we'll keep an eye on it today. So we'll get started on-, have you talked to your friend? She going to feel good enough to join us? I'm sure she'd like to lend a hand if she's feeling okay."


>Bring Delilah down, don't let your mother think anything is wrong
>Tell her that Delilah still feels sick, she shouldn't be down here right now
>Write-in

>>1410297
>Bring Delilah down, don't let your mother think anything is wrong
Maybe ask her if she's okay with coming down, but it'd probably make mom feel better if it didn't seem like we'll just be dragging Del all over the place while she's feeling unwell.

>>1410297
>Bring Delilah down, don't let your mother think anything is wrong

"Should be. Will check." You don't give her the chance to ask any more questions as you scurry out of the kitchen, praying that she can't notice that you're off right now. Against better judgement you start touching by your mouth again, feeling where the skin now hitches up. By the time it finishes healing you have no doubt that there's going to a permanent snarl tugging at your lip.


When you return to Delilah and offer up the invitation for breakfast, she looks at you with one brow raised. "Are you umm... Are you sure? Is it okay?"

"If want...to."

"Hmm...okie dokie." She slips out of bed and you instigate her face, making sure there's nothing to alarm your mother. Aside from slightly dilated and hazy eyes, doesn't look too unusual. Leading her to the stairs, she tugs at your arm to get your attention.

"Wait she won't be able to um, to tell that I'm allll..." Delilah asks while making looping gestures with her finger.


"Act cool. Relax. Shouldn't...notice. Works for...me."

"Okay. You um, you delinquent." Calmer than earlier, she follows half a step too close when you return to the kitchen. Already, your mother stands at the counter with cutting board and knife at hand.

"Oh good, I was worried I was going to have to go check up on you two," she leaves her task to come and feel Delilah's head, "How're you feeling sweetie? Better than yesterday?" All Delilah does is nod, surprisingly not flinching away. "That's good. If you want to give me a hand in a little bit than I'd appreciate it, I'm just trying to get the potatoes ready first."


Delilah keeps nodding after your mother stops talking, quickly adding a "Yes ma'am" upon realizing that she had been spacing out. With a sheepish smile she returns to the table with you, glancing over you for approval. "Am I doing fine-" she starts to whisper but your coffee gets handed over to her, offering it in an attempt to keep her quiet. She takes the mug in hand, eagerly accepting it only since it came from you, and tries a sip.

[1/2]

"Ah! It's hot!" Sticking her tongue out, Delilah makes a face at the flavor, "And it's really um, really bitter."

"Oh yeah, Jacks likes his coffee black. If you want some, I can make you a cup better for a girl."

"I can drink this one, I think." She starts blowing on the drink, looking over at you. "Where's yours at?"


You can't help but let out a chuckle, getting up to retrieve another cup.

"Are those your sheets in the washer?" your mother asks.

"Yeah. Got...food. On them."

"Tch, you know I hate when you guys eat food in bed. At least you weren't trying to hide a whole slice of cake under the covers this time."

"You did that?" Delilah asks from over at the table.


"He sure did. He was about seven at the time, and was mad cause he couldn't have another slice. When I found him in the morning there was cake crumbs and frosting all over his mouth and the blanket." She laughs at the memory, you returning to the table feeling a tad bit embarrassed by the story.

"Mom hated when I ate food in my bed too. But I never tried to um, hide cake or anything." Delilah gives you a small grin, feet kicking restless under the table.


"I'm sure any parent has their own story about their kids trying to be sneaky. They don't realize we can notice when they're up to something." Your mother looks back over at you, giving a smile. "There was this one time were these two got caught. I think Michele just entered high school... you want to refresh my memory?"


>Dad thought you two were thieves breaking into the house one night
>You guys 'borrowed' the car, only to get a flat tire
>You two played hooky, only to meet your parents at the mall
>Write-in

>>1410915
>You two played hooky, only to meet your parents at the mall

>>1410915
>You two played hooky, only to meet your parents at the mall

>>1410915
All of the above

Or just
>You two played hooky, only to meet your parents at the mall

"Which time?" you ask, knowing fully well which she means. "Mall."

It only takes one word to bring back the memory, a wider smile coming across her face. Delilah looks even more interested in the story when you look off to the side, already feeling embarrassed by the event.

"What did you do at the mall?" Her words drag out slightly, but not enough to raise suspicion in your mother.


"Nothing too bad, I supposed..." she teases you, knowing that these stories make you squirm. "Me and Jacks were both working at the time, we'd usually leave after the kids headed off to school. Michele was staying home sick, and Lawrence was more than capable of walking himself to school. So we both headed out a bit before he was about to leave, cause we trusted our son to get to school on time. Right, sweetie?"

"Did you play hooky?" Delilah whispers, as if trying to still keep it a secret from your mother.

"So did...Michele."

"Turns out, she was sick enough to miss school but not quiiiite sick enough to stay home And certainly well enough to take a bus out of town for the day. Apparently they only waited ten minutes before they headed out, pretty risky on their part."


Delilah looks back at you, somehow surprised that you had the audacity to do such a thing. "You were a bad kid." she whispers again and you nod in agreement.

"Yep."

"I wouldn't say bad. I'm glad that they decided to go hang out at the mall instead of something really devious. Probably would never have found out, except that me and Jacks had to go find a gift for a wedding we were invited to. The look on both of their faces when they walked out of the store, just to find out they didn't need to buy a bus ticket to get back home."

"How'd you find them?" Delilah asks, sneaking a snarky grin as you try to act like it was no big deal.


"Lawrence hadn't hit his growth spurt quite yet. I guess he got lost and Michele was calling out for him. Course as soon as we heard her voice we figured out what was happening. Followed her voice, heard Lawrence talking to her soon after, and waited for them to come back out."

"Did they get in a lot of trouble?"

"Plenty. Had to make sure they didn't do it again-"


You look over to Delilah, mouthing the words we did it again behind your mug. She nods, ready to keep your secret. Your mother is ready to speak up more about your childhood, but the phone calls her away. You'd be content with watching Delilah try to drink her coffee like you do, but you're called over.

"His name is Crockett?" your mother whispers, hand over the receiver. Nodding that you'll take the call, she passes over the phone and gives you privacy.

[1/2]

"Hm?" you can already feel the buzz in your head dying, for better or worse.


"That you Law? Sorry bout calling you this early, trying to get everything ready for later. Figured I'd check on you guys, see if everything's been going smoothly on your end."

"Yeah." You dare a peek to the kitchen, seeing Delilah and your mother talking at the table.

"Good good. Mrs. Esposito is expecting the two of you, wants to make sure she has everything ready. She's been doing kinda...ah, well that's a conversation for here. Not in the hospital yet though, so that's good. 'nother reason I called up was to ask about, well it's related to Delilah's little uh... thirst."


"What...about?"

"Well, far as I can tell Mrs. Esposito doesn't know about all this. Del sounds like she might want to tell her about it later but, well... she's a kid. I don't wanna make decisions for her, but I dunno how her grandma might take it. It's a little more than far-fetched, y'know? So I figured I'd ask your opinion. Not really a pleasant thought, but I'm sure Mrs. Esposito could easily get her an uh, external supply. She wouldn't have to get it straight from the source that way, wouldn't really have to worry about running out either. Or I guess I can see what I can do, maybe get her some in the meantime, just enough to tide her over till we get this all figured out. But, eh...you've been with her longer. I imagine you'd understand this better too, whaddya think?"


>Let her grandmother know
>Let Crockett do what he can
>You don't feel comfortable with either plan
>Write-in

>>1411495
>Let her grandmother know
Might want to be real careful all the same. If paid enough, someone might check the records twice when it comes to blood supplies.

>>1411495
>Let her grandmother know

>>1411495
>Let her grandmother know

"Tell-" you double check to make sure the answer stays just between both of you, cupping the receiver. "Tell her."

"Tell her? Alright. I figured that was going to be our best bet. Didn't want to impose on something I didn't completely understand- Shit, I gotta get going. Keep her safe till I get there, counting on you-"

Without a proper goodbye, Crockett hangs up the phone. It peeves you off, but something you let slide.


"...-Dad ended up bringing me a pint of ice cream later and two spoons." The conversation had continued without in your absence, Delilah talking as your mother continues breakfast. "Mom was so mad when she found us eating it, cause I wasn't supposed to have any till later."

"Oh, I know how that can get. When they're real little, it's hard to say no. Then of course you have your second kid, and it comes a lot easier. Even then, my little baby Lawrence was such a little cutie. He still is, but he's not really little any more. " When you come to sit back with Delilah, she gives a grin that tells you she's heard more stories about you.


"Your mom said she glad that it was just food on the sheets," Delilah says with another grin, "She was worried that you were wetting the bed again." You attempt to simply drink your coffee while ignoring the fact that both of them are snickering at the red rising in your face. They don't taunt you too much more during breakfast, between talking about your and Michele's time in school and Delilah's similar experiences. Your mother sticks with the lighter stories, stuff about how nervous you'd been to start school or the time Michele had bent the fender of the car while learning to drive.


[1/2]

"My mom did something like that too," Delilah says between small bites of hash brown, eggs and ham pushed aside on her plate. "I think she was um... bringing me back from like a friend's house or something. We were at a gas station and um, actually I think someone scraped us with their door. Something like that, and then they sped off fast. It was dad's car, and there was this long stripe of paint missing. She was so scared about him finding out, we spent like...like two hours trying to figure out how to hide it. She even bought me a dessert at one of the cafes in town to keep it a secret between us, and he never found out."


You can tell that she's already starting to come down now, her words and movements less enthusiastic than before. Both you and your mother sense that this was probably an event that had been much more serious than she remembers, Delilah continuing to eat like it's no big deal. Luckily, she seems ready to move on to a story about her and some friends, talking about a class project they did together once. You just listen along quietly, your mother asking the small idle questions to encourage Delilah along.

"...we heard a crash and thought we broke the window, but it turns out that it was ju-" The washer buzzes from the laundry room, your mother standing up quickly.


"Hold on sweetie, let me go take care of that real quick. I think there's a finished load in the dryer, let me go put those up and then I'll be right back. You can just put your stuff in the sink when you're done." Your mother grabs her own empty dish, putting it away as she goes to take care of your sheets. Delilah must have been waiting for a chance alone, pulling on your arm to take a look at it.


"Is it fine?" she whispers, looking over the bandaid you had slapped over it earlier.

"All fine." Your answer is barely enough to satisfy Delilah, as she continues to investigate.

"And I didn't hurt you anywhere else, right?" she asks, "I was really trying earlier, to only do a little bit. Did you notice, did I do good?"

"Yeah," you say, "Did good."


There's a brief moment where Delilah looks proud of herself, but she continues to look just in case you're lying. There isn't anything else for her to find, nothing but an old faded scar by your wrist.

"I didn't do this to you, did I?" she asks, and you shake your head. Nothing that stands out too much, its a thin white line that has long since healed. "How'd you get it?"


>From the night you lost your voice
>From the night you got revenge
>From the day you hurt the wrong person
>Write-in

>>1414161
>From the night you lost your voice

>>1414161
>From the night you got revenge

>>1414161
>From the night you lost your voice

File: 1439235346894.jpg (578 KB, 1200x1200)

578 KB JPG

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>1414161
>From the night you got your revenge

>>1414161
>from the night you got your revenge

"Got this..." Your thumb travels over the white line, barely visible beneath the hair. "Being dumb."

"Did you just nick yourself by accident?"

"No. From Charlie."


"When they hurt you?" she asks wide eyed, looking at your neck. You'd gone to the hospital in rough shape that night, but you remember exactly how you got this scar.

"After."

Delilah is rather quick on picking up when exactly you mean, hesitating to say anything. "You mean when you..."


"Hurt him." You're calm now, but that night you had left the house seeing red. Alone, pent up anger, and the feeling of being useless when you looked at Michele's empty bedroom was enough to send you out. Still recovering, you couldn't even manage the small amount of words you can now. It was hard on you to adjust, it was hard for everyone around you, and it just served to make fuel your hate for the man who did this.


"The thing that sent you away for a while." Delilah mutters and you nod.

"Went to...him. Wanted to...hurt him." He had done more than mute you, and as far as you were concerned justice had to come from somewhere. "Found his...house." You found were Charlie was living, and more importantly, you had found a way inside.


"First fight. Three against...me." It had been way against your advantage, pinned down when Charlie decided to get cocky with the glass. "This time...just him." Even though you were still recovering at the time, you were more than enough to win against Charlie by himself.

"Did you mean to um, ...y'know, do that to him?" She's too afraid to say the word crippled but it's easy enough to guess.


"Didn't think...about it. Just wanted...revenge." While it's true there was nothing too specific in mind when you started the rampage, you intended for more than just an eye for an eye. "Went in...did that. Hurt him. Hurt him...awful." Most of that night was a blur, specifics forgotten here and there. You didn't remember the walk there, just leaving your house and then finding Charlie asleep on his couch. You don't remember what he had said, or the first thing you did to him, just that it didn't take long for his blood to coat your knuckles.

"Is the scar from him fighting back...?"

[1/3]

"He tried. Couldn't. Wouldn't...let him." You're pretty sure that Charlie had managed a few swings in self-defense, but even the ones that did land weren't enough to slow you down. Rage and adrenaline were more than enough to power you through whatever he could do to you now. Without his buddies around to help, Charlie didn't stand much of a fighting chance.

"He'd hurt you pretty bad before, I think I would be mad too." You can't help but shake your head when Delilah says this.


"Was bad. Went too...far." It didn't stop with you just beating him up, you'd continued to swing long after his begging for you to stop had become a garbled mess of blood and spit. You were going to finally leave at that point, when he could still heal up from what you had done. It's when he managed to spit out Michele's name that you lost all better judgement again. You couldn't tell if he was apologizing for what he had done, or if he was still trying to act tough, but it didn't matter. He wasn't allowed to say her name after everything he'd done.

"Pushed him...against window." More like you had thrown him. "Glass broke." It had shattered upon impact, you'd pushed your full weight against him. You had started to choke him, forcing his back against the sharp edges of the remaining pane. "So angry. Couldn't feel...this," you point to the scar, "Piece had...lodged in."


Delilah flinches as she imagines the scene, but you can't even remember how it felt. You only remember pressing down on his neck, red flowing from your arm to join the rest on his neck. Whether you had a change of heart or cause you couldn't stand to look at his face anymore, you didn't choke Charlie to death. Instead, you forced him out of the window and down the slope his house was on. He didn't die that night, but you made damn sure he had paid for what he had done.

"Didn't notice. Not till...after."

"And then you were arrested?"

You nod, knowing that Delilah was smart enough to figure out the rest. "Was angry...long time. Couldn't handle...it. Didn't know...how."

"But you've been getting better at it, right? You've been working on it?"

"Trying to."


"I didn't know you back then but I um, I think you have gotten better. Or at least..." Delilah looks back to the table while kicking her feet again, "I'm not scared to be around you." It's nice to hear that, even if it may not always be true. You try to grin at her, taking the plate of mostly uneaten meat away to go and put it up. She follows with other dishes, just in time for your mother to pop back in.

"Oh, I have a bit of a favor to ask you Bunny." your mother says, Delilah all of a sudden looking nervous.

...

[2/3]

After some quick convincing and a few minutes later, Delilah stands on a stool in the sewing room with a dress much too long for her on.

"Are you sure I'm the right person for this job...?" Delilah asks, embarrassed by being put on display like this. Your mother sits at the bottom, holding a needle in one hand and fabric in the other.

"I'm sure Lawrence would have been more than happy to put this on for me if he could." your mother teases, looking over at where you sit in the corner of the room. You shake your head to let Delilah know you wouldn't, but knowing your mother she could probably find a way to convince -or guilt trip- you one way or another. "Unfortunately, I don't think there's too many prom dresses that would fit him."


A project that she had taken on for one of the girls in the neighborhood, your mother was tasked with fixing the torn trim.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to be wearing someone else's dress like this?" Delilah asks, keeping an eye on the front that hangs loose.

"It's fine it's fine. Besides, a red dress like this looks nice on you, don't you think?"

"I dunno..."


"Oh please. Lawrence, wouldn't you agree that she looks nice in this color?" your mother turns to you for support. You're ready to give a shrug just out of habit, but a glare from your mother makes you give a nod instead. "See? He agrees, red makes you look mature." You wince a bit, hoping that this doesn't give Delilah more ideas any time soon.

You watch your mother get to work, moving quickly as Delilah looks over herself in the mirror. The dress really is too big for her right now, hanging down at the parts it's supposed to hug. Nothing too flashy or showy, the slight plunge on the chest was enough to make her try and cover up with her hands. It's hard to believe she had been so opened last night, but the stolen wine probably had a bigger hand in that than she cared to admit.


From the corner, you'd begun to sketch on a scrap piece of paper, making different gestural drawings of your mother and Delilah. The fact that you're supposed to be leaving in mere hours must be eating away at your mother, but she's been surprisingly keeping it together.

[3/4oops]

As you fill in the hair of your mother's bun the phone rings, shaking your hand.


"Oh, darn it. My hands are full right now, could you grab that for me sweetie?" your mother asks, pinning the next piece in place. "It might be your father, but if it's anyone else you can let them know I'm busy. Or bring it over if it's an emergency I guess."

Of course you go, stepping down the steps and to the living room. Clearing your voice, you pick up the phone and answer.


"Hello?"

"That you Law? Thank God." Crockett's voice surprises you on the other end, sounding exasperated.

"What's...wrong?"

"Seems I've run into a slight problem. The Buick gave out on me, had to walk over to a Chevron on the edge of town. Know where I'm talking about?"

"By highway?"


"Did you say highway? Yeah, seems like it. Car's on the side of the road about a mile away, still trying to figure out what's wrong. Now I can probably get another car down here, but not for a couple hours. Only reason I'm calling you bout this is cause I got, er... evidence in there. Sensitive stuff, y'know? Call me paranoid or whatever, but I don't really like being a sitting duck with something as important as this stuck on the road. Don't wanna impose on you and your family more than I need to but, ah... guess I'm asking for your help again."


Crockett waits for your answer, you tell him;


>The Firebird should still have the keys, it'll be quicker if you get him
>Stay here and have him call a taxi
>There should be a motel near him, tell Crockett to stay there
>Write-in

>>1420054
>The Firebird should still have the keys, it'll be quicker if you get him

>>1420094

Supporting

>>1420054
>The Firebird should still have the keys, it'll be quicker if you get him

"Will get...you."

"Hm? You're gonna pick me up? Shoot, alright. I'll go wait by the Buick, just drive past the station for about a mile or so and you should see me. You borrowing a car?"


"Yeah. Firebird. Green."

"Gotcha. I'll keep an eye out, you just try not to waste too much time. Mean time, I'll try and see what I can do bout the Buick, might be a part that we can replace and then get going. Hope to see ya soon buddy."

You hang up the phone, not looking forward to telling the girls. Before heading up, you decide to write out the situation briefly on a note, handing it over to your mother and waiting.


Sorry for this, it's short notice but I need to borrow dad's car for a bit.

We have a little bit of an emergency, and I need to go pick up a friend of ours.

Is that fine with you? Can I bring him here for a short while?

She goes over the note quickly, having reached a stopping point for the dress. Delilah reads over her shoulder, looking up and mouthing Crockett? You nod before your mother looks back up, who looks a bit confused but not overly upset.


"Was it that man who was calling earlier? I suppose it would be fine for you to borrow the car, long as you don't scratch it up or anything. Jacks has been working on it for a long time now, but if it's an emergency, well I won't say anything." Her words aren't trying to keep you here, but the look on her face says to come back soon.

"Should I stay here?" Delilah asks, even though she already knows the answer.


"Yeah. Back soon." You wave them off, noticing the worry that shadows over both their faces when you start to walk away. It sucks knowing that you're the type of guy that has to leave them feeling like that, but the only thing you can do right now is hurry back. It doesn't take long for you to locate the keys, getting behind the wheel of your father's car this time. You're reluctant to start it up, but remember that dillydallying isn't really an option right now either. The car pulls out smoothly from the garage, and you accelerate down the icy road to find Crockett.

...


The Chevron he called from passes by on your right after about ten minutes, and you keep an eye out for the Buick. Up a ways, after all the houses stop and trees start to take over as landscape, you see the dot of the pulled over vehicle. As you approach, Crockett steps out and waves you down. The back of his clothes are wet, and you can see the imprint of his body in the snow leading under the car.

"Thanks for coming down here. We need to get going, quick." He reaches inside the car, pulling out a briefcase and dark heavy bag. You notice a dark liquid trailing from beneath the car, trailing from where he had puled over. .

[1/3]

"What wrong?" you ask, stepping back inside as he comes around to the passenger.

"Thought that maybe I had been driving it a bit rough recently, that it just needed a little TLC to get going again." Crockett tucks the items down on the floorboard, keeping an eye out on the road. "Turns out, might've had a rat sneaking right under my nose this whole time. Found this..." As you pull out onto the road again, a now bent and dirtied screwdriver gets pulled out from Crockett's pocket. "...and several holes, jammed up in my transmission."

You step down on the gas, Crockett tossing the screwdriver out the window. "Thought I'd been covering my tracks well, but either I've got less trustworthy people than I thought, or they have a lead that I'm unaware of. Maybe don't take the most direct way home."

Complying with his request, you go around a couple of blocks. Occasionally a car will come behind you, but end up turning after a few blocks. You keep an eye out for the tinted windows you've learned to become wary of, but there doesn't seem to be any around. Figuring that you'd gotten Crockett early enough, you start to head back on the track home. What should have been another ten minute trip to come back has now turned into a twenty minute meandering, still some ways from home.


"Wait, Law. Hold on a second." Crockett has been staring into the rear-view mirror for the past five minutes, never taking his eyes off it. "You see that black Charger? Two cars behind us." You glance in the mirror and do in fact see it, some distance behind still. Nothing particular stands out from it.

"What about?"

"Don't think this is the first time it's been behind us. Pretty sure it'd been following behind us for a couple blocks earlier, after we passed the gas station."


Going past a green light, one of the cars behind you turns and leaves the Charger only one car away now.

"Following?"

"Maybe. Wouldn't get close to us before either, kept its distance even when it was just us two on the road. I don't really feel comfortable having him follow us without being able to see his face, cause I don't think he's just out driving for fun."


You take a corner, driving down a residential street crowded with other parked cars. The person who had been right behind continues moving forward, but the Charger turns down the opposite street and parks in front of a house. Going slow enough, you can see that his car is still running and he's not stepping out. If anything, he's probably preparing to chase after you at any moment.

"I think he's watching us, probably thinks you live down this street or something." Crockett feels under his coat, patting something concealed to his side. "How about we don't let him meet your parents today, yeah?"


>Keep driving, you should be able to lose him
>Lead him as far away from the house as you can
>Try getting close enough to see if either of you can recognize him
>Write-in
Just 2/2, whoops

>>1422003
>Keep driving, stay in public
Keep them from being able to confront you.

>Make illogical turns and moves
Four turns around a block, ending up where we started. Head into a parking lot, then back on the main road. If he's following us, he'll know we're aware of him, and we might be able to tell if there are other cars following us.

If we get the opportunity, we can try trapping him behind oncoming traffic in an intersection, and then out of sight just as fast.

>>1422150
this

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, you try to remember the layout of this neighborhood. You don't want to end up trapped somewhere that goes against your advantage, but you also don't want to move in a pattern either. Crockett braces himself against the door as you take a tight corner, the turn coming on a whim.

"Lose him, but try to get us back in one piece..." he says, making sure the stuff at his feet remains safe. "Gonna trust you on this, will do what I can to help you out. Rather not have to, but if push comes to shove, then we can try threatening our way out of this." Crockett assumes a position that allows him to look out the back window, acting as eyes in the back for you.


"Looks like he's turning around-" Once again, he doesn't have much time to react when you take another turn. Daring to speed, you barely avoid a car trying to back out of a driveway as you speed to the next turn. Crockett searches for the Charger as you take another turn, back on the street you had started on. This time you continue forward, hoping that it was enough to buy some time. The Charger sits at the second corner you had taken, turning quickly when you pass by on the road behind it.

"Don't think he's hiding it any more. Picking up speed from the looks of it too. Dammit..." You can hear his teeth grit together, restless in his inability to help any more. "Don't think this guy is any sorta amateur. You got lucky this time but-" The low curb of a church's empty parking lot gives you an unconventional way to get across the street, turning behind the building to head back the way you had just came.


"But we're gonna have to play our cards right on this! I don't like the way this feels, he's smart enough to try and guess our path but dumb enough to do this in plain daylight? Either way, you need to do whatever you can to get him off our tail. And if you could keep it as legal as you can that would be nice. Might have a hard time talking us out of a jail cell this time."

It's going to take some skill and luck to lose this guy.


>Roll 1d100, average of first three

and choose:

>You need alleyways and lots of buildings to lose him, keep your distance
>Go to where all the one way streets are, try to trap him in traffic
>Write-in

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>1422889
>Go to where all the one way streets are, try to trap him in traffic

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>1422889
>Go to where all the one way streets are, try to trap him in traffic

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>1422889
>You need alleyways and lots of buildings to lose him, keep your distance

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>1422889
>Go to where all the one way streets are, try to trap him in traffic

Should pick a roll method a stick with it

Main Street, that's where you need to go. A crisscross of one ways and traffic lights are more than infuriating for someone trying to go to work. You need to drag him through there enough to get him stuck.

You take a few extra blocks to get to main road, streets set with the higher end stores and the library taking up its own block.


Taking a few extra blocks to get there, you're faced with streets lined with some of the higher end stores and offices. A library takes up its own block up ahead, most traffic coming and going through there. Enough people going about on their errands help keep distance, unaware of your chase. The entire time you push past the speed limit, keeping an eye out for any passing by cops. Stuck at a red light with the Charger only a few blocks past, you look towards the bottling plant that ends the mess of streets. You'll make it look like you're heading towards the library, a place that would be full of help and other cars to hide around. The plant will be your real goal for now, something to stay focused on. If remembering correctly, there's a parking garage with a difficult to find entrance. It could give you enough cover to let him pass, if you plan it right.

Stick shift gripped in your right hand and the steering wheel in the left, the moment the light turns green you gun the engine. A wet squeal of the tires and a shaky start serves as a reminder of the road's conditions. Crockett holds onto the handlebar in front of him, looking as if his life depends on it.

"Watch it buddy," he warns, "He's not the only thing you gotta look out for."


Most of the road has cleared, but icy patches remain in the less traveled parts. Trying to keep note of this, you make another block to try and end up behind the guy. Stopped at another red light, your line of road is clear in front and back. The street lights ahead are green or have just turned green, but they'll be turning red again soon. The Charger seems to have better anticipated you this time, waiting behind a small row of cars on the street that intersects yours. He's only two cars away from being able to turn on your street, stopped only by their yellow light. It'll be your turn to go soon, and you plan on getting some distance between you both. Their light going from yellow to red, you begin to rev the engine hard. Crockett tries to ask if you're sure about this, seeing the long line of lights in front and figuring out what your plan might be. The flash of green light and your immediate start shuts him up quickly.

[1/2]

The Firebird shakes as you rev the engine, neck jerking back without the support of a headrest. The noise from the engine rings in your ears, and the worry about blowing it out like your grandfather had done crosses your mind as you try to gain speed. Going much too fast for this street, you manage to get through the first few lights without too much trouble. You watch from behind, waiting for the cars in front of the Charger to move forward. The next light has turned yellow before you could get to it, the one after already yellow. You push the speed limit further, trying to ignore the shaking of the car.


The last car that would have been in front of the chaser moves forward, the last light in front of you turning red before you could get through. Going much faster than you should be, you decide that speeding through it would be better than trying to slow down and stop. The Mercury that tries to cross isn't paying enough attention to your reckless behavior, tugging along. Much too late to safely stop, by knee jerk reaction you try anyways. There's a sickening feel in your stomach as the back wheels lose traction. You're forced to turn the wheel, further losing the feel of the road beneath the tires as you attempt to not crash.


The car finally comes to a stop while facing the now terrified old woman in her own car, Crockett offering a quick raise of the hand as an apology to her. "Good job, looks like our friend noticed that..." he says sarcastically, looking pale in the face. A miracle that there's no sirens going off, you take the chance to try and continue down your original path. The little hiccup in your plan allows the Charger the chance to catch up, even with you taking more turns and blocks. The plant is closer now, and you decide that it may be worth using their parking lots and loading bays as a way to duck out of view.

[2/3woops]

From behind, the Charger seems to have changed it's plan of following you from a distance and starts picking up speed. You go faster in response, trying to figure out what his plan is. You're not going to lead him home, and you wonder if he's going to try something drastic like taking out your tires or even ramming into the back. Remembering that the entrance to the parking garage should be coming up, you take a right turn and continue. A fence that lines the factory keeps you in on one side, a short curb and a long path of rocks and terrain on the other. The Charger is only a few seconds behind; if you can get to the turn than he shouldn't see where you go.


And you can see where you need to go, the black form of the car turning on your street from behind. Unfortunately, a delivery truck has started pulling out from one of the loading docks. From the slow speed, it's obvious that it will take far too long to clear out of the way if you don't get past first.

"Shit! Law, wait you should slow down...!" Crockett's knuckles have turned white from holding on to the handle in front of him, looking up in time to see the obstacle soon about to be in your way.


>Try to get past the truck, trap the Charger behind it
>Pull a 180 and confuse the Charger, lose him in the parking lots
>Hop the curb and try to go around the truck
>Write-in

>>1423905
>Try to get past the truck, trap the Charger behind it

>>1423906
>Try to get past the truck, trap the Charger behind it

Without hesitation, you shift down a gear and stomp on the gas. The back fishtails at the acceleration, but you continue to push the car harder than it should go.


"Goddammit LAWRENCE GODDAMMIT!" Crockett braces himself for the worst, arm coming up to protect his face. Wishing you didn't have to watch this either, teeth grinding down painfully as the Firebird races to pass the truck. The back bumper catches just enough to swerve your path, but you don't dare to let go of the gas till the corner comes up. Swinging wide, you take the left and another immediate left down a ramp. Shades from the sun and mostly unused by the factory now, the tires lose grip of the ground as you slide into the underground garage. You manage to avoid the handful of cars that are parked, finally coming to a screeching stop when you reach dry pavement. Holding your breath from the moment you started accelerating, you gasp for air.

You wait though, eyes glued to where you have just came from. The Firebird shakes from all the stress you've put it through, but it's mission may not be over quite yet. Crockett waits with a hand under his coat, keeping an eye on the rest of the garage. He gasps and throws the door open, almost making you rush out.


As you turn to see what could have cause his sudden departure from the car, you look in time to see Crockett lose his lunch. He apologizes, waiting till his little episode is over before returning to the cab. "Lot harder to handle when you aren't behind the wheel..." he says, still looking green in the face. "Gotta say though, I think that was enough to lose him for now."

Forcing yourself to put the car on idle, you try to calm down too. Your sweaty and shaky palms release from the steering wheel as they reach to feel your rapid heartbeat instead.

[1/2]

Crockett looks over while wiping his mouth off with a handkerchief and asks, "Thought I was the car sick one, you doing okay there?" You don't try to speak, giving an uncertain nod instead. It feels like you could die, like you will if you don't get back home soon. Even for what just happened this doesn't feel right, but the worry gets pushed aside by urgency.


"If you're fine to drive, then lets get outta here." Crockett eyes one of the plant workers standing by their car, hand resting inside his coat again. "Probably don't have to tell you this, but we need to get back to your place ASAP."

You sneak to the entrance of the garage again, looking for any sign of the Charger. Without it in sight anywhere you peel out, once against pushing past the speed limit in order to get home quicker. At no point do you manage to calm down properly, even when it looks like your passenger has.


"Memorized as much as their license plate as I could, got a description of the car too," he explains with a small notebook in hand, "Gonna hope we don't run into them any time soon, but at least this way I can figure out if it's someone we know or not." With a glance over at you and noticing the death grip you keep at the wheel and stick, he adds on "Delilah should be fine, we'll get to her soon. If they knew where to get her, I'm sure they would have went there first. Try not to have a heart attack on the road right now, 'kay?"

"I'm fine." you lie, and Crockett damn well knows it.


"I'll see if I can get us some help down here. Wanted to make this return party small, but if that's what it takes..." Finishing his notes about the Charger, Crockett returns to notebook to his pocket. "You sure about taking this straight home though? Course, if this is the only thing you've got right now it might be good to have it handy."


>Take the Firebird home, better to have it close by
>Park the Firebird a few blocks away, better to be sneaky
>Write-in

>>1424406
>Take the Firebird home, better to have it close by
As long as we can slip it into the garage, it shouldn't be a problem. If those guys found it abandoned, they might be vindictive enough to trash it.

And we've already done enough to it.

>>1424406
>Take the Firebird home, better to have it close by

"Home." you mumble.

Leaning back against the seat and finally pulling his hand out, Crockett shrugs at your answer. "If that's what you think is best. We'll get back to your place, offer a nice but quick apology to your parents, and then I'll call down an escort." He waits to hear your approval, but gets nothing but continued silence. "Sure you feelin' alright? Looking kinda clammy right now."


"Fine..." you force the answer out, trying to loosen your grip.

"I know this is going to be a major inconvenience to your folks, but I'm also sure that Mrs. Esposito will be more than generous to house them elsewhere. Least, long enough to make sure no one is gonna come around and bother them." He picks up the briefcase from the floor, patting the side of it and says, "Went ahead and pulled up those names you gave me, remind me to hand them over when things are a little less hairy."


It feels like your heart skips a beat when you remember asking for the details on Michele's death, but you can cross that bridge at a better time. For now, you need to get home.

...

The moment the Firebird comes to a stop in the garage you step out, rushing out to look up and down the street.

"Relax, I'm pretty sure we would have seen someone by our fifth time around the block." Crockett follows this with a low whistle, looking at the new dent you brought back. "Shame that that had to happen, used to dents and scratches on my cars but it kinda hurts to look at it on this."


With the garage door firmly closed, you lead Crockett inside your house. With the radio playing low to guide you in, you find both Delilah and your mother at the kitchen table. A half eaten sandwich rests beside Delilah, your mother holding a small square of cloth with buttons attached to it.

[1/2]

"You're back!' Delilah exclaims, trying not to rise up from the table too quick. She comes over, arms out to hug you, but stops short when she notices your winded condition. You, on the other hand, feel a short burst of bliss through all the panic. While you catch Delilah off guard with a knelt down embrace, Crockett comes over and introduces himself to your mother with a handshake.


"Sorry to impose like this, ma'am."

"If you're a friend of my son then it's no problem." Your mother, even when confused, always knows how to be hospitable.

Meanwhile, Delilah tugs on your collar and whispers in your ear. "Your mom was just showing me how to sew on buttons. Are you okay? You sort of feel jittery right now."


"Fine. I'm fine." You finally start to calm down, even if you're not completely back to normal yet.

"If you don't mind ma'am, I'd greatly appreciate it if I could borrow your phone for a moment." Crockett continues to hold the briefcase and bag at hand, your mother walking past him.

"Oh, sure. Let me show you where it is, and I'll show you where you can set your stuff down."


You can feel Delilah trying to push away so she can ask more questions, and while you give her some distance she keeps a hold on your shoulders to keep you eye level with her.

"Is he in trouble?" she whispers, "Are we in trouble? Can I help?"


>Explain the situation to her now
>Don't scare her, explain it later
>You need to calm down, offer her blood
>Write-in

>>1425106
>Don't scare her, explain it later

>>1425106
>Don't scare her, explain it later
There shouldn't be an issue, so we should be able to catch our breath first. Hopefully she won't feel like we're trying to hide information from her, like she's being treated like a child.

"We're fine. Made it...back." You push hair out of her face, listening to Crockett's end of the conversation in the living room.

"...yeah, hate to have to call you up like this. Seems like this isn't going to be a one man job after all..."

"Who's he calling?" Delilah asks, looking over to the other room.

With a hand over hers, you make her pay attention to you instead. "Help. Make it....easier. To travel."

"What happened to his car? Did someone try to hurt you-" Delilah quiets down when you cup her chin, preventing her from jumping to any -possibly correct- conclusions,

"Safety. Going to...be fine. See gram...tonight. No worry." She bites her lip to keep from saying anything more, nodding instead. "Tell you...tonight. Later. For now...get ready. All your...stuff."

"Okay, I'll be quick, I promise." Delilah looks ready to say more but stops short, letting you escort her to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs you wait, making sure Delilah has gone into the sewing room instead of trying to listen in on the phone call.


"Gonna need at least two cars, three if we can spare it. Need someone to stay with the Talbot's, move 'em somewhere more secure if we need to. Just one man one woman...yeah." Standing behind, failing to be sneaky with her eavesdropping, your mother becomes steadily distressed. "If you could give Palmer my thanks in advance...yes'sir. 10-4 buddy, will be ready to go on your arrival."


"Were those uh, cops you were talking to?" your mother asks, trying to remain polite.

"One of them is ma'am, but right now he's working off the clock. They'll be down here with some vehicles in about forty minutes."

"That long?" The idea of waiting makes you nervous, like you're exposed even inside the house.


"Till we know who was playing cat and mouse with us for sure, my reliable resources are rather small. They need to get the cars, arm themselves-"

"Armed?!" your mother finally speaks out, afraid. "They're coming down here with weapons? What's going on, what kind of trouble are you in?"

Crockett looks over at you for permission first, waiting for a nod of approval. "Not sure how much you know, Mrs. Talbot, but I can assure you this isn't Lawrence's fault. Our girl upstairs has herself a rather nasty stalker, and we've had to unfortunately resort to these means to protect her."


Your mother's lips purse in a thin line, not settled by this information at all. "Are you her father?"

"I am not, ma'am. Just a friend of her mother's, 'fraid her father isn't around any more to protect her. Your son's been picking up on that slack."

[1/2]

She looks over at you, torn over the situation. "Wouldn't getting the police involved be more safe? If you're having to resort to carrying weapons..."

"Hope I'm not the one to break it to ya, but we're in a spot where money can outweigh evidence." As Crockett says this your mother becomes sick in the face, hand coming to cover her mouth as she realizes how bad it's been. "Forgive me for asking, but is your husband around?"

"He's out of town right now. Jacks is supposed to be in a few hours..."


"I see. Just to be a further inconvenience, could you pack a bag for you and Mr. Talbot? I'm trying to plan for worst case scenarios right now, and it would be beneficial if we could have you stay with an escort for a few days. Her grandmother should be more than willing to compensate, especially for your help."

"I-...Yes. I can do that." your mother doesn't try to fight it, though she's visibly upset by these sudden plans. "I don't want to leave till Jacks gets home though."


"We won't leave him behind, I promise." With your mother off to complete her new task, Crockett whips out his books and begins scribbling notes down. "We don't have a set in stone plan yet," he explains as you come to stand by him, "But here's what we got so far. A team of at least three are on their way down here, hopefully with a car each. We'll have at least two though, and we still have the Firebird here. They'll arrive here. You, me, and Delilah will ride with Palmer- longtime buddy of mine. We'll have someone stay with your mom, take her and your dad somewhere safe after he gets back. And with you two safely back at Mrs. Esposito's, I can finally get all my ducks in a row and figure out what we've got going on today. Follow along?"

"They'll...be safe. Swear?"

"Swear it on my mother's grave. Be nice if they could leave at the same time as us, but they'll be taken care of regardless. I'm guessing you're ready to head out already?"


"Am. Delilah...getting ready."

"Swell, swell. We've got some time to kill, try not to work yourself in a frenzy like you did in the car." Crockett begins to flip through and read previous pages, left hand resting on his hidden holster.

With about forty minutes left before leaving, you:


>Get the gun from the cabinet
>Ask Crockett for something to calm your nerves
>Go see if your mother needs help
>Go check on Delilah
>Write-in

>>1427417
>Go see if your mother needs help
Or at least to apologize for bringing more grief.

We can see if Del is managing after, then go down and arm up just in case.

You follow the short hallway from the living room to your parent's bedroom. Through the door way you can already see your mother sitting at their bed, hand holding her head with clothes at her side. Giving a short knock, you quickly get her attention as she tries to sit up and look fine.


"Hey sweetie, need something?" she sniffs, busying herself with packing again. You sit on the bed with her, shaking your head. On the nightstand you can see a framed picture of the whole family, solitaire ones of you and Michele beside it.

"I'm trying to hurry, have to make sure I get everything Jacks needs to. He won't like having to leave so suddenly but uh..." she looks at the jeans in her hands, lost in though for a moment, "...We will be coming back here, right? This is just your friend being overprotective, right?" You're about to assure her that things will be fine, but at this rate you're not really sure.


"There's not really a lot of important stuff we have here. All things considered, we've been able to live decently enough despite everything. Still, we try to not spend it on anything wasteful, I don't think there's many things here that are really valuable. But this is where you kids grew up, where I raised you and... well I'm not ready to let go of that yet." She picks up the family picture, looking over it as you try not to drown under all the guilt.

"Sorry-"You stop when she hugs around your shoulders, standing up in front of you.


"Lawrence, sweetie, it's okay," she coos, "I know you wouldn't want this to happen. Just relax." She pulls away just enough to watch you nod in agreement before she returns to the packing. "I know how difficult it is for you men to say sometimes, Jacks is the same way. I don't know if he ever told you this, but the night after you left, after that fight you two had, Jacks was a wreck. He was angry for a bit, yes, but when he realized you were gone for good it just broke him. I don't think he'll ever stop blaming himself for it, but after you came back Jacks said it was like he had this painful weight lifted off his chest. Still feels awful about it, but you should have heard him the other night. It was one of happiest moments I've seen him in lately."

You don't know what to say to this, only feeling worse about forcing them out like this.

[1/2]

"I'm glad you're helping that girl though. If she wasn't around I might have to scold you more." she tries to lighten the mood, putting a smile on.


"Have...scolded."

"Only a little bit. I have to show her how to do it," she explains, "You're a bit too old to have a mother nagging. But a girlfriend, on the other hand..." She giggles when you stand up, making a scene to march out on her teasing. "I'll be out there soon." You look back, wanting to try and get in some sort of retort, but watch as she carefully puts the picture frame into her bag and become discouraged.


Crockett is peering out the window blinds when you head to the stairs, not saying anything as he keeps an eye out. Walking up makes your heart beat harder in your ears, palm rubbing across your chest as you come to the sewing room. Delilah is knelt on the ground, looking down at something small she holds. With a creak of the floorboard as you walk in she gets startled and tries to hide her item, relaxing a bit when she sees that it's you.


"Hi, hi sorry... I'm almost ready. I was just um..." she looks down at what looks to be a business card in her hand. Before she tucks it away you recognize it as one of your mother's, from when she still worked. You can just catch sight of the Delilah Talbot on the front before she hides it. "I'll be down in a second though, unless we need to leave right now?"

"You're...fine. Just...checking up." She nods, hand in her pocket fiddling with something else you can't see now. Delilah loses herself in thought, and while watching her you feel your heart calm down more. It still doesn't feel normal, but you don't feel as terrible either.


>Ask Delilah what she wants to do when this is all over
>Give Delilah something to do so she feels helpful
>Go downstairs and get ready
>Write-in

>>1428065
>Ask Delilah what she wants to do when this is all over

New thread up tomorrow