OOC: I've got band UIL tommorrow and have been busy all week because of that. This should hold me for awhile. >.>
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Tick, tock, tick, tock…
The lights were off and Corey was snoozing it out and sprawled on the couch. He was asleep at such an odd angle, it was kind of disturbing. His arm was behind him as if he was trying to scratch his back and his legs were somewhat crisscrossed on each other. It was nearing night, and no activity whatsoever had happened. His father remained at work, so he had to stay and pretend he was grounded.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Only one twitch in his eye managed to make his legs change direction, and totally disrupted his sleeping. He awoke, and stood up on the couch he lay on. He looked around himself to find only a tiny ounce of light seep in through the windows. It was getting late, and his father had still not returned. He was sure of that because he did not see the car when he looked out the window.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
In the kitchen, Corey made a plain sandwich; just enough to keep him full for awhile. He would make a full course meal later. At the time, he decided that it would be better to spent the rest of the day's hours sitting his but down on the couch and watching TV, the most beautiful thing mankind could have ever made.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Those slasher movies just weren't scary enough, and those comedies weren't funny enough. Dramas never made him cry and action movies never quite entertained him. Musicals were the last option, and he snorted at the thought of watching one of those. He switched channels aimlessly, not really looking for anything in particular; just something good.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
Three knocks on the door. He looked outside the window, but still did not spy a single car. Who could it be? He couldn't see the man's face well enough; he would just have to open the door for him. At least just a crack, if anything. So he did. No questions were asked.
Straight forward, a baseball bat hit him over the head, right by his eye. Along with that several punches and kicks. The spur was so random and out of place, that for a moment, Corey thought he was still dreaming. But the pain he felt was too strong, and a final blow finished him off. He was dragged out of the house by the five men who had arrived, only two staying behind.
"Quick; the festival's already started," said the first. "We've got to be there before the main event!"
"We are going to make it," said the second. "Just hold on there buddy; these things take time."
Corey was tossed like a rag doll to the back of a pickup truck. Had he still been awake, this would have officially knocked him out.
"Should we inject him now?" asked the first.
"No," responded the second, "We will do so when the others are done with too."
The first nodded, and all five left the house and crammed into the tiny pickup. The door was left wide open, and the job was done so sloppily that anyone could have seen it happen if they just had their window curtains drawn. But still, no one had either seen or cared. All that was left was the open door, and the continuously annoying grandfather clock.
Tick, tock, tick, tock…