~~~~~~

"you gotta let it out soon, just let it out"
-daddy issues, the neighboorhood

song to listen to: somebody's watching me by hidden citizens

warnings: swearing, verbal fighting, panic/anxiety attacks, crying, masking emotions, some more swearing, mentions of weapons, mentions of death

~~~~~~

"Honey, you've gotta get her up," I heard frantic whispering from right outside my bedroom door. "She's been sleeping in all day, I told you to wake her up early when we talked last night!"

"What-I thought it was fine if she slept in, you said her injuries were nothing to worry about!" Dad's voice. The other voice finally registered as Mom's.

"I said they shouldn't be anything to worry about, but still make sure she has no signs of a concussion!" Her voice was borderline not a whisper any more.

"Well then, you go and wake her up before you leave for another shift." There was anger in Dad's voice.

"Are you blaming this on me? Do not blame this-"

"I'm not blaming this shit on you, I-"

I've never heard them fight like this. What the hell is up with them?

"I don't want to hear it, Cameron. You wake up our daughter, I'm gonna be late for work." Mom's voice was laced with venom, I felt too panicked to be comfortable.

"Yeah, yeah you're right." I could just tell that Dad was crossing his arms.

"Right about what?"

"She's our daughter, Emily. So start acting like it."

"Oh, don't be like that with me!"

"Screw you, at least I'm here for her."

Footsteps became distant now-Mom was walking away. Without saying goodbye. I heard the door to my bedroom begin to creak open and quickly turned on my side, so I'd face the window instead of my father. Tears formed in my eyes, but I refused to let them spill out. I couldn't let Dad see the tears-he'd feel bad, he'd know that I heard them arguing. Mind you, he probably already feels bad, so I don't want to make him feel worse than before.

"Jenny?" His calling out my childhood nickname made a few tears spill, and as I gave a strong 'mmph' as a reply, I wiped those away before it'd turn into a waterfall. "Mom left for work, she's sorry but she had to rush..."

I stayed silent, which-to my dad-meant he had to continue to talk, even walk closer. And I heard him do just that; felt the bed cave a bit as he sat down on the side I wasn't on. Shit.

"Are you feeling okay? You've been in bed for a really long time, and I know you keep on saying you're okay, but um...a lot of things have happened in the past couple of days, so I just wanted to make sure you're alright. I got the day off, so we can have one of those father and daughter days we always used to have!" His voice was so sweet, so sincere, so full of love, my lip trembled.

It didn't matter whether I cried in front of him, what I did, it didn't matter the type of day he's had-be it a bad or a good one-he would always put on a smile for me. He never wanted to be the reason for my sadness, he never wanted to have my day impacted by the terrible things he's witnessed. I don't deserve him, and he deserves the world.

"Sweetheart? Are you...are you okay?" Dad's voice again; I forgot replying was part of a successful conversation.

"I'm fine, I-I'm fine, Dad, I am, just...still tired."

"That doesn't sound medically okay."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't, it really doesn't."

"Cool."

~~~~~~

Edward Scissorhands played on the television, but neither of us were truthfully paying attention. Dad had an empty bowl of popcorn resting in his lap, and his eyes were shut in a dream despite the volume of the movie.

"Dad?" I whispered his name.

A loud snore was his response. Great. Knocked out cold. Who wouldn't want their father dead asleep during Edward Scissorhands, about two days after a new Shadysider turned into a killer? I quietly rose off of the couch, careful to not wake him up. It'd be rude if I did, and after all, he deserves the sleep he's getting. I dashed into the kitchen, now determined to raid the fridge, eat whatever I find, and maybe call Kate-I knew she was babysitting, so she'd be dying for a distraction sooner or later.

Humming and tapping to the beat of Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell, I found almost exactly what I was looking for. Half of a vanilla cake that remained from Dad's birthday. Cutting myself an unreasonably large piece, I carried it around on a Thanksgiving plate and sat down, not feeling any rush to call any of my friends. They'd be there all night, for whenever I needed them to be. I could count on them for that. I need to count on them for that-I don't know what I'd do if it was any other way.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad dash towards the bathroom area. Which was strange, considering the fact that I thought he'd been dead asleep about fifteen seconds ago, but I didn't question it. We were Peters-it was in our blood to be strange and unusual, just like Lydia Deetz. Lydia's actually an idol of mine, if I don't quote her at least five times a day, then everybody knows that I am not having a good day. Another shadowy dash, this time heading towards the washroom.

"Dad?" I called out, my voice now a bit shaky.

As expected, there was no reply. I ate the rest of the cake faster than the Flash; dumped the plate in the trash, grabbed a switchblade that Dad thinks I don't know about from the utensils drawer, and cautiously walked back to the living room. My heart stopped cold: Dad was still sound asleep on the couch. Mom was still at work, Auntie M was watching The Outsiders with Robyn and Auntie TT, and even if either of them came home by chance, they would call out. Nobody else has a key to the house.

And the shadowy figure dashed again, but this time I couldn't see where they'd gone off to. Suddenly, there was a creak on the floorboards behind me, and I spun around, my eyes darting around the room. There was too much tension in the air, it left me unable to focus on anything for the better half of a minute. And then I saw him running out the door-no, I saw it running out the door, because if it was a 'him', it'd be impossible. Ryan Torres, clad in his Skullface mask, stood right in front of me.

Just the two of us breathing, and although I couldn't see his eyes, I knew we were making eye contact as well. No sudden movements, no urge to attack each other. I didn't have a single clue as to how much time had past, but all of a sudden, he ran out of the front door, slamming it shut behind his black cape. I stood there in shock, unable to move even after I heard Dad jump off of the couch.

"Jen? Hey, hey Jen, Jenny look at me, what happened? What's wrong? Who was here?"

"Somebody's watching us." Complete fear soaked every single one of my three words, and before Dad could go full cop mode, the phone rang once.

"What? Who? Are you alright, did they break in, did they hurt you?" 

The phone rang twice; I walked over and rested my hand on it, ready to pick up and tell whoever it is to fuck off.

"I'm fine, Dad, I just need to go and-"

~~~~~~

"-Kill that pervert!" Kate was pissed off. We'd all gotten a creepy visit from Peter, disguised as Skullmask.

The friend group, plus Josh-Deena's younger brother-all met up at Deena's house, and we are currently trying to figure out what to do. All of us told our stories, and now all of us were pissed. But Kate took the lead, easily.

"Why would he break in there?" Deena asked, pacing in anger.

"I just don't understand what he was doing at my place, the most I said to him was to fuck off."

"He was acting all shifty and shit," Simon swung into the Johnson dining room from the kitchen, holding a small carton of milk in his hand. "Like going through the laundry. You need to get some groceries, man." He sat in the chair next to Josh, and I rolled my eyes. "We have an incredible sale at the-"

"Simon, not now." I cut him off, frustrated that he wasn't paying attention to how serious this situation was.

"He broke into our houses," Kate ignored Simon, using her hands as her number one sense of expression. "He had a knife!"

"Whoa, with the kids there?!" Josh slammed his cardboard juice box, finally pitching in. "That's wack!"

Kate agreed with Josh in the most Kate Schmidt way possible: "That's fucking right, Josh. It is wack. Thank you." She turned back to Deena. "There were kids there. Okay, and what? He thinks because he's balling Sam, he can come and prank us on our own turf?"

"Hey, you know what?" Deena finally seemed to agree now. "You're right. Fuck this. Fuck Peter."

"Hello?" Kate did a small head tilt as Deena walked closer. "Don't forget the most important part: Fuck. Sam."

"Yeah, fuck her." Deena didn't even hesitate, I was proud of her. "She needs to get her psycho boyfriend in check."

She grabbed the keys off the table and stormed out of the front door; Simon and I ran out after her holding hands. With a five second delay, Kate and Josh ran out;Josh like he just got invited to the biggest party of all time. Time to pay, bitch.

~~~~~~

okay, this chapter itself-minus my little not right here-has 1666 words as the word count and i am unbelievably proud of myself

you'll probably get the next update soon, but fair warning, next chapter is a pretty emotionally heavy chapter