Only Liars, But We're The Best

I woke up to a loud ruckus one morning. It was coming from the kitchen. Initially I panicked, thinking there were intruders inside the house. But after hearing Patrick's cussing followed by a sharp "shhh!", I relaxed.

I listened further for any more noises. There was just silence. Curiosity got the better of me, so I got out of my bed, tamed my hair and walked silently down the staircase. As I was about to make a turn to the kitchen, I bumped into someone.

"Aaaahhh!!" Both me and the person whom I bumped into, yelled.

"Whoa! Mai! What are you doing, up so early? It's your day off today, right?" Apparently, it was Andy whom I bumped into.

I recovered from the shock and looked at him. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, my gaze travelled past Andy and into the kitchen. I received another surprise. Not a nice one though.

Patrick was standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a bag of flour. It seemed he took a roll in the flour as he was covered in it.

Joe was at the island unit with a knife in one hand, slicing some tomatoes, by the look of it. He's not covered in any sort of substance, but he sure made a hell lot of mess on the counter top.

And speaking about mess, well, let's just say that the kitchen's a disaster. There were all sorts of kitchen utensils on the counter tops, food and flour was everywhere and the sink was filled with dirty dishes. There was a pot boiling on the stove as well.

"What in heavens' name are you guys doing?!" I finally found my voice.

"Look, we can explain," Patrick started.

"Why don't you just go wash up and leave the mess to us? We'll explain later, okay?" Andy cuts in.

"I'm so not going anywhere without knowing what you guys are up to," I stated firmly and crossed my arms, signalling I was serious. "It looks like world war three erupted in our kitchen. Thank God you all didn't burn it down. And how come all of you are up? Don't you have a gig tonight?"

Joe spoke up this time. He let out a sigh. "Sorry this turned out to be a disaster. We thought of surprising you by making pizza. It had been almost a month since you stayed with us and we've been taking you for granted."

I stared at him quizzically, arching my right eyebrow. I'm taken for granted?

Andy continued. "What Joe means is that ever since you've been living with us, you have been taking care of our meals. Even on your off days, you still wake up early to make sure that you've cooked something before anyone else is awake. And you could have slept in like any other girls your age."

"It feels like we're having a house nanny or something," Patrick piped in. "You do your chores without anyone being up. When we are finally awake, you've already left for work. And when we came back, you're already asleep. So we have decided that today, we'll cook for you instead. But as you can see, errm..." he gestured at the kitchen.

I burst out laughing so loud, the guys stared at me as if I'd gone mental. All traces of my initial shock had gone. "Aw guys, you're so sweet!" I wiped tears from laughing too hard, off the corners of my eyes. "Honestly! But you guys sucked big time, so I'm going to have to help you. But I need to shower first, and Patrick?" I looked at him and giggled. "You need to go shower too. You look terrible. Did you roll in the flour or something?"

"Some idiot did not close the bag properly after using, so when I grabbed it, it kinda burst open. And to make matters worse, it was placed on the higher shelves. So, yeah," Patrick sighed, irritation lacing his tone.

Five hours and a short trip to the supermarket later, the pizza was ready. We made not one, but three large pizzas (two meat, one vegetarian). The guys and I scrubbed the kitchen clean and by the time we were finally done, it was already half past three in the afternoon.

"Phew, I've never worked so hard for a pizza before," Joe declared, in between mouthfuls of pizza.

"All the more to savor it," I added. "Besides, making pizza wasn't that hard. It was cleaning up the mess that was."

The four of us were huddled in the 'entertainment' room, digging into our food. It was a place where the guys usually played games on the PS3. Otherwise, it'll be jamming sessions here. Overall, it's a place where you go to get rid of your boredom.

I was halfway through my second slice when a thought occurred to me. Where was Pete? I mean, we created such a commotion to wake the dead.

"Pete's taking his vampire schedule a notch too serious, ain't he?" I remarked.

That brought a choke to all the three guys. "Wh-what are you talking about, Mai?" Patrick questioned.

"He's practically living like a vampire. I'm not saying that it's wrong to sleep in the day, but can't he wake up early for once, like you guys? It doesn't hurt to take part in daytime activities. Sunlight hardly seeps through the warehouse anyway, what with the windows being so small and high. He's missing out the fun. And I miss seeing him in the day too," I lamented.

Patrick sighed. Andy ran a hand through his hair. Joe played with the toppings of his pizza.

"I'd guess he's making up for lost sleep accumulated over the years," Joe joked.

I felt the corners of my lips lifted. Everyone knows Pete's an insomniac.

"Dude, we gotta run. It's nearly five," Patrick exclaimed, putting down his pizza and running to the kitchen to wash his hands. "Sorry Mai, gotta go."

"I thought you guys said you have no gigs tonight?" I asked, picking up the plates the three of them had left behind in a rush.

"We are supposed to pick up some stuff at the hardware store. The shop's closing at five thirty today for their annual dinner and dance, so gotta rush," Joe ran past me and grabbed the van keys from the key holder. "I'm driving!"

The guys made a mad dash to the front door. Patrick stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at me.

"We'll be back by six. Please give me a call once Pete wakes up," he stressed. His face was etched with concern and his brows were furrowed, like he was contemplating on what to say next. "I hate to leave you alone with Pete, but I just can't carry the heavy hardware all by myself."

I patted his shoulder. "I can take care of myself, Mister Worrywart," I smiled. "And don't worry, I will make that phonecall."

After the guys left, I set myself to clearing up the mess. While I was clearing, my thoughts drifted back to Pete. I wasn't paying attention to what I was clearing and accidentally knocked down a can of soda. Shit. More work to be done. You're simply a klutz, Maiya, I scolded myself.

I went to the kitchen to grab a dishcloth to wipe the soda trail off the floor. I had finished wiping when I looked around the area for the empty can. Where the hell did that stupid can rolled off to? It must have gotten stuck under the beaten couch.

I arranged myself into a crawling position and placed my left cheek on the floor, eyes scanning underneath the couch. The can was indeed there. I cussed loudly to myself and slipped an arm under. My hand brushed something round and cold. I pulled out my arm immediately. That didn't feel right. I took another peek below. Couldn't make out what the thing was with the bad lighting.

I stood up and sat on the couch instead. I felt a slight shift. Of course! I could shift the couch and I'm able to see what's underneath! But am I strong enough to do so?

I decided to give the couch a mighty push. And it worked! A few more pushes and I gasped at what I'd discovered. A trapdoor was hidden underneath and the round object my hand felt was the ring handle. Why in blazes would there be a fucking trapdoor that the guys hadn't even bothered to inform me about?

I pulled the handle and the door swung open. Huh. That was easy. The can rolled away, forgotten. I slowly made my way downstairs. It wasn't as dark as I thought, so I managed to get to the bottom of the steps without tripping and splitting my head open.

Oh boy.

It seems that the guys had built a workout station in the basement. Except, there were shooting targets on the opposite far wall. I walked closer to them and instead of bullet holes, there were wooden stakes stuck in it.

Wait. Wooden stakes?

I plucked one out and examined it closely. It's a wooden stake without a doubt. I immediately threw it on the ground as if it was on fire.

Okay, this is weird.

I turned around and saw a workbench cluttered with a pile of metal scrap on it. On closer look, I realized it was actually a shotgun. But it didn't look like an ordinary shotgun. It was modified in such a way that I couldn't make out what it's supposed to be.

Besides that whole junk, there were books on the workbench as well. I picked one up and flipped to the first page. Okay, so it wasn't a book. It was a journal. I felt bad prying into someone's journal, so I quickly slammed it shut. And that was when a metal locker caught my eye.

Things just get even weirder.

It was placed at a corner of the room. It intrigued me as the locker was placed horizontally on the floor. Who would put a full height locker on the floor?

I went over to the locker and found it locked. My inquisitiveness peaked to its highest. I got so far and I'm not going off without knowing what's inside. I rushed back to the workbench and rummaged through the junk pile to find a pair of pliers.

Here we go. I snapped the lock and threw open the metal door.

And regretted for having done so.

Pete was lying in the narrow space of the locker, asleep like a corpse. Dead as a doornail.

That was when he chose to open his eyes and I realized he wasn't entirely human.