Insomnia; V

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Roxanne, sitting in the square dining table, looked down at the sandwich Grover had... not-so-graciously made. There were loads of meat here, which was good. Roxanne liked meat - though not as much as she liked sweets. She didn't know why. She didn't have an appetite, despite not having eaten all day yesterday.

Food just... seemed so tiring, lately.

Grover, in front of her, watched with crossed arms and an empty plate - well, it would've been empty if not for the bits of crumbs spread across the circular surface.

Roxanne knew she needed to say something. She owed him this much, for everything he'd done.

"It's more than just her," she started. "Claire, I mean... Yeah, sure, I'm mad at her, but I know that... I know that things are just gonna go back to normal again."

"Will it?" Grover questioned, leaning forward, pressing his elbows to the table, resting his square chin on the back of his joined palms. "Will you really forgive her, Roxanne?"

Forgiveness. It wasn't something she was good at. If someone did something bad to her, she'd try to keep her distance from that person, rendering them and stripping their position into a stranger, and forget all about them.

But this was... Claire.

Roxanne couldn't ever forget Claire.

Could she forgive her, though? After what she did.

Roxanne didn't want to think about that. Not yet. She squirmed in her seat. Grover, always the observant old man, noticed.

"I am your boss. I command you tell me what's bothering you."

"... Angel."

His eyes widened, and the wrinkles in his forehead moved up an inch or two. "Ah... I see..."

Roxanne sighed, and slumped into her seat, her eyes looking up as her glasses sagged down. The blurry ceiling wasn't interesting to look at, but she couldn't brave herself to look at anything else.

"I just feel like, like there's this connection between us, you know. Like we're soulmates, or something. I thought she really... I thought she cared about me..."

Roxanne ran her limp fingers through her hair. It didn't straighten her hair. It only made her bed hair messier. She must looked horrible.

Grover wouldn't care, though. Not when he himself looked equally as horrible as her, having just woken up.

Roxanne closed her eyes, drummed her fingers at the table, and jolted her head down to look at Grover, desperate. She didn't bother re-adjusting her slanted glasses. It was smudged from all the times she'd tried to wipe the tears away, anyway. Putting it on wouldn't make a difference towards Roxanne's sight.

She looked at the blurred Grover, and oddly, the lack of details in his face compelled her to say, "Do you... I know what I wrote, I know what I believe, at least, I think I do... but... is she really the good guy?"

There were no ticking cats, this time. Not like in his office. There were, however, the faint sound of the water sprinkler activating, doing its job to water the grasses, not to mention the loud rustling of the large, grand trees here, and the occasional calm, slow roaring engine of the cars.

The suburbs was really peaceful.

Roxanne would like to live here, one day.

Claire would've loved it here.

"Beti... You need to stop being such a bewakoof."

Roxanne blinked, and stopped her finger-drumming.

"... Sir, I know you get expressive when talking in Hindi, but I'm a full-on uncultured basic American bitch here, so-"

"There's no such thing as 'good guys' or 'bad guys'. There are only 'guys'. Guys who want to live, who want to be safe, who want their loved ones to be safe. This isn't 'Karan and Arjun', Beti. If you've not done something wrong, then people won't try to hurt you."

There were so many things Roxanne didn't understand about his short, unexpectedly heartwarming speech; the fact that he said guys instead of just people, who - or what - Karan and Arjun were, the nickname 'Beti' he always loved to use.

But somehow, she understood him perfectly.

"Did... Did I do something wrong?"

...

All the Anderson boy had to do was simple; go meet up with this Stone boy, confirm whether or not he had something to do with the disaster, and report back.

Simple.

And if this Anderson boy was thick enough to not be able to prod out such simple information, then it was okay! They would schedule up to meet again, and this time, Bonnie would be there too, as a chaffeurone. She could disguise herself as his date or his aunt or both, really didn't matter. She would be the one asking the questions, and she, unlike Anderson, would be competent enough to know whether Stone should disappear or not.

Simple. That was how it was supposed to be.

But, then again, Bonnie mussed, since when does anything go my way? Where she worked and where her daughter worked and this entire mess proved so.

Bonnie sighed, giving up on making herself comfortable in this shitty plastic chair.

"I don't know why, Anderson, but something tells me this Stone boy isn't just any friend..."

Oh, she knew Stone wasn't just any friend. Anderson's reaction proved it. All she needed to do was fish the info out of him; a name, an address, a workplace, anything.

Stone was the last one they hadn't captured. Stone wasn't supposed to be captures. He wasn't on their list. But Bonnie knew, in her gut, that Stone had something to do with this.

The rest of them were all nervous, rightfully so. Anderson's nervousness, however, was far too great for it to be acceptable.

Stone. Bonnie needed to find him. And Anderson would help her with that.

"I mean, what possible reason could there be for him to just quit, like that...?" Anderson stilled. What a brat. Bonnie stared right into his eyes and said without a hint of a doubt, "He knows, because you told him."

"I didn't tell anyone shit!"

He threw an arm down, trying to appear bold but ending up looking like the idiot that he was when she said, "Oh, but he does know something." Bonnie stood up. She was only an inch taller than Anderson, but with how frightened he was and how pissed she was, she towered over him. Anderson had never looked more like the skinny useless cowardly brat that he was. "Now, we take things here seriously. Us and our-" she snorted, "at this point, it wouldn't be that far-fetched to call it a cult." She nodded to herself. "Yeah, so, our cult takes things seriously. There has been a major info leak."

She made a show of pausing, looking straight into his eyes, not relenting.

Anderson looked away in distraught after a couple more seconds. He couldn't even handle a simple eye-contact.

"And by major, I mean someone has taken a picture of that kid and her identity is compromised!" Bonnie needed something to punch, something to kick, something to break, and that something ended up being Anderson. Naturally. "Even the states have been calling us, telling us to fix our shit! And we can't completely fix our shit unless all the stupid reckless assholes stop being-"

Her phone buzzed, and Bonnie stopped her onslaught.

She looked down, and wondered that if, perhaps, she went a little too far.

... Eh, doesn't matter.

Bonnie checked her message.

Soon, a wolfish grin spread across her face.

Finally.

Fucking finally.

"You know what, Anderson?"

Bonnie needed to see her only daughter, Bella. The kid would be thrilled to see this, especially when half of this mess was her fault for being too nice to Claire - not that it was a bad thing, per se.

"You do you."

...

School's kicked my butt. Hard.

And it's still kicking my butt, even now. 

My butt hurts. 

:(

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