Last Summer // DNF

~41~ I Don't Know What To Do

Hi! Not me posting this at a reasonable time and not at 5am :) PLEASE LISTEN TO "As The World Caves In" By Matt Maltese during this chapter, put that shit on repeat 

Sorry lol, happy reading!

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Drista's voice still rang in George's ears. The practically defining words that match a terrified 15 years old's voice echoed through his head.

We were face timing, there was yelling downstairs

George squeezed his eyes closed, his fists were balled as he tried to ease the growing panic building up in his chest. Clay was speeding well over 15 miles over the speed limit trying to get to George's house as soon as possible.

Beth went to see what was wrong, she took the phone with her

Clay reached his hand over and grabbed one of George's clenched fists. He ran his thumb over his palm to help ease the gradual pain from the crescent moon shaped cuts in George's palms.

Screaming *sniffle*, crying. I couldn't tell the difference.

The Car took a sharp turn to the right, pulling into George's neighborhood. He couldn't get Drista's voice out of his head. The distress in her voice broke his heart.

The call went dead, the phone died. God, I knew I should have told her to plug her phone in.

"C-careful. Police. Don't want you to get a ticket." George warned in a rasped voice. His body was practically on the verge of shaking. No tears were yet to roll down his face, he wasn't even sure what happened. He wasn't sure what he'd see when he got home.

Police are on the way.

When Clay pulled onto George's street, the shorter practically held his breath. His eyes widened and his skin paled. There were dozens of police cars scattered down the street. Blinding red and blue lights flashed everywhere. Two ambulances were lazily parked in the middle of the street.

Clay had barely parked the car when George bolted out of his seat and towards his house. He pushed past officers that tried to keep him from going inside, but he made it through nonetheless.

His entire house was scoured by police officers. There were EMTs running in and out of the house. George's knees almost buckled at the sight. Things have been bad, but never was it this bad. George walked further into the house, carefully avoiding the bustle of officials.

The home was filled with police chatter and the buzzing from their radios and walkie-talkies. Everyone had gloves on and were sifting through the house, kicking empty beer bottles and inspecting broken shards of glass. 

The brunette stopped dead in his tracks when he had a view of the kitchen. It was as if George had walked into his own horror movie. There was blood everywhere. Splattered across the formerly pristinely white cabinets. Red was splotched and stained on the kitchen tile. George clasped a hand over his mouth, eyes starting to water.

There was a figure laying under a sort of white crime scene sheet. George stumbled over to the figure, to which he figured was a dead body, and collapsed to his knees. His hands shook as he reached over to pull the sheet back. Before he did so, he glanced over to the end of the body. George sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

There was an all too familiar pair of black and white Under Armour shoes peeking out from under. George nearly choked on his saliva and balled his fists up again. After a moment of hesitation, George pulled the sheet back.