Who: Marco What: Marco stages a break-in, part 2 When: Early afternoon Where: Chase's room
Marco tried to go back to sleep after he'd run from Noah's door, but adrenaline kept him up. The cure for that, of course, was something he'd wanted to do anyway. The longer he sat there thinking about what he had gotten himself into, the more he wanted that lift. Just enough to feel normal. He locked his door, then set up his H and found a vein on his hand that he could get to.
He lay in bed, euphoric until he dozed off. He slept on and off through the morning, every once in a while rolling out of bed to check the computer. He'd leave a few comments, then roll back into bed, going through names again. Cecilia, Chase, Noah, and Lana. He'd trash one of their rooms. That was the plan.
But later, when he was more awake.
It took a while, and more than once he had to remind himself not to shoot up again, because he had something to do. Thin ice, they'd said. Fuck that. He could do better. He needed to be on their good side.
He didn't know what time it was when he left his room. Lana's room had been too close to just mess with the door, so there was no chance that he was going to actually sneak in. Cecilia had a key. He'd been informed that hared of time. He could break into Noah's room, but that seemed dangerous.
That left Chase. Marco didn't know him, just remembered seeing him with an injured leg on the obstacle course, so there was a chance that Chase would still be in the house, resting. So Marco wandered a bit, poking his head into all the common rooms to see if he was around. No sign of him. Though, was that good, or bad? That either meant he was in town, or locked in his bedroom.
Well, fuck. There was only one way to figure that shit out.
So Marco wandered the second floor hallway, just listening for noise. And fuck, was he the worst person to do that. The voice was narrating again, and there was a dull ticking noise under that, and his meds were clearly not fully working while he was getting high. It was a bad distraction, when he couldn't afford one. He needed to not get caught.
If he's there, then the door's locked, he reasoned. So just try the fucking door.
Fuck, his hands were shaking again. He took a deep breath, then held it in as he turned the doorknob ever so slowly. He expected it to meet resistance and stop, and then he'd have to run, or else… did he fail, if he did alright the first time? But then the door opened, and for a moment he was so surprised that he nearly forgot that he was supposed to enter the room. When he remembered his mission, he scurried inside and gently closed the door behind him.
Chase's room was nice. Marco thought that his room was nice, but Chase's room was fucking nice. Brick and wood, a bed on an elevated platform, his own fucking couch. There was no mistaking the tinge of jealousy. This guy got a sweet room, and won a fucking prize from Them. Marco was on thin fucking ice.
Marco suddenly didn't feel so bad about trashing this dude's room. He rolled his shoulder, cracked his neck, and kicked over the coffee table. He jumped up onto the couch and knocked over a potted plant and a lamp. He went up those stairs to the landing that the bed was on, and pulled the sheets off the bed. He found a bag of jerky and shoved that into his pocket, making it his. He knocked a few books to the floor. Finally, he dug into Chase's gym bag, the one that they were all gifted on obstacle course day, and found the extra pair of shoes. He pulled those out, and carried them out of the room with him. That was something people would steal normally. Hell, he'd stolen shoes off other junkies to pay for more H. He'd had his own shoes stolen just as often.
He paused to find the camera to talk to Them, but was shocked to find that Chase apparently didn't have one. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he snapped. For that irritation, he took the desk lamp and threw it at the bathroom mirror. Fuck, even the bathroom was nicer than his.
As he left, he left the door open a crack, so he'd instantly know that something was off.
When he got back up to his room, he stood on his bed and stared down the camera. "That's two," he barked. He held the sneakers up as proof. "Fucking two. That should be above and beyond, right? So now I'm back on your good side. So… Yeah. Let's keep this shit up."
He hid the sneakers under his bed, then headed downstairs, hoping the rest of the day would be normal.