“Seriously?!” You moaned in annoyance, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at your boyfriend. Brian stood in the middle of your room, frozen in his spot as his head slowly turned towards you. His face was covered with his black balaclava that had red eyes and a frowny face. His mustard yellow hoodie had blood splatter on it. Another groan came from you as you took notice of the bloody footsteps that are behind him and on your carpet. “Oh come on!” You grunted.

“Oops.” Brian shrugged, his voice monotone from the voice changer. He reached up and pulled it off, his brown hair slightly ruffled and a lopsided gappy smile was on his face. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll clean it out. I swear.” He promised, a smile falling into a sheepish one as he leaned down and tugged his laces before he slipped his work boots off. He snatched his boots up and shuffled across your rug and towards the bathroom.

“Mind if I take a shower?” He asked, bloody fingers drumming on your door. You scowled at him and the bloody fingers. “Go for it. Not like I can stop you, can I?” You answer with a roll of your eyes and laid back down, pulling the blanket over your body and squeezing your eyes shut — trying to fall back asleep.

Brian huffed out a laugh and slipped into your bathroom, slamming the door shut and your jaw clenched. “What an asshole.” You murmured as you pulled the pillow over your head as the shower kicked on. Whenever you’d point out the same thing, (Brian dragging blood through your house), he’d purposely be obnoxious. As of now, he was loudly whistling as he obnoxiously went through the cabinets for towels and other necessities.

What an asshole he was when he wanted to be. You wanted nothing more than to wait until he’s in the shower to turn the water cold. There was endless possibilities to mess with him — but he always went too far with payback so you stayed in bed, under the warmth of your covers.