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Go Compare A Murder

Chapter Text

A television set sits in the far right corner of the room, on it is the channel ITV, it’s 7pm meaning that coronation street should be playing, it is in fact… we are on an adbreak.
Grace sits in the one person chair that is directly opposite of the television set, she has the controller in hand, behind her is the door to the kitchen, that's where her husband is, he is cooking sausage rolls and baked beans, Grace's favorite english snack.. She is american, from new york, she visits her long distance boyfriend once in a while and they spend a few months together, she often loves her time in England, tho she gets confused because she is currently in Carmarthen in wales, to americans Wales and England are the same place, Wynne has never corrected her cause he doesn’t want to break her heart.. It’s kind of an inside joke when Grace and wynne go to the local pub, Grace doesn’t understand the joke though, she is often left out of it, just a simple slip of a joke like…
“Ay, Wynne? Up to go down the road to London for a few beers?”
“Nah bristol is closer” Wynne would respond, laughing, Grace would just sit there and fiddle around with her fingers acting confused.
A few car adverts show in the television set, then the cocompare advert.
“Wynne” Grace starts, pronouncing it as “wine”. “You are on the tv again” Wynne comes in with a bowl of baked beans and places them on the coffee table that is in front of the television set, Grace takes her feet off of the table as he places the bowl.
“Ah, yes the thing i am famous for” he stands up straight and twiddles an air fake moustache and he belts the compare song as he walks back to the kitchen for the Sausage rolls.
“Yeah, the only thing you're famous for” Grace says under her breath. She dips her finger into the bowl and licks the sauce from her finger. Wynne walks back into the room with the sausage rolls and sits on the armchair next to Graces. Grace grabs the bowl of steaming hot baked beans and stands hovering over Wynne.
“I'm a little sick of you” she says as she pours the baking hot beans over his face and lap. Wynne screams in agony, his mouth stretching to his eyes as the shock on his face turns into sadness, his lips quiver. Grace drops the bowl on his lap and stares at him as he shivers in shock, his eyes being very confused and in pain. He tried to utter words but his lip couldn’t stay still enough, he sounded like a blubbering baby.
“Oh shut up Wynne” she says in her new york accent. She rolls her eyes and walks away from him tutting as the coronation street theme blares from the tinny speakers on the TV.
Outside the front door she laughs, the laugh starts as a small giggle, then it turns into a raging fire of a laugh, then to tears. Wynne was a nice guy, she was just sick of that dumb fucking song. It was the fifth time he sang it today. She doesn't mind it on the adverts but when he does it in the house live, it bares her eyes and it brings pain to her skull. She just needed a break from him and his smug attitude.

“Have you ever wanted to graze your knee, just to have that one certain scab that isn’t a full scab, but little tiny scabs that if you run your finger over, it's like a bumpy ticklish sensation?” The classroom of year eleven stared at their teacher confused as to where this was going to teach them.
“Miss..? Are you okay?” one student asked. The rest of the class laughed at the absurdity.
“Never you mind, Callum.. I probably need rest” The teacher responds in a polite manner as she walks out of the room into the busy hallway full of parents for parents evening, she wasn’t teaching a class, she was minding the kids from detention, in the detention she was tasked to teach the students something, but all she did was use the room as a weird therapy, to vent her emotions. Which is dumb. And she knows that, she kept her head low hoping that none of the parents grabbed her for a talk. She rushes past them not making eye contact until a warm smelly substance tripped all over her, it was coffee. She looks up and is greeted by Mike.
“Ah mike” she says in a rush, she blushes and drops her pen on the floor.
“Oh my gosh!” he starts fiddling with his glasses.
“Nah it's fine it's my fault anyway”.
Mike rushes past her and is instantly noticed by all of the impatient parents hoping just to know how their kids are doing, Mike ignores them all and hears a whole lot of noise in Class room B14, the room Hannah just walked out of out of pure anxiety. He opens the door and the classroom silences.
“What is going on in here!?” he asks as he looks around. “Where is your…-” he was cut off by Callum.
“She was being very weird, talking about herself a lot.” Mike looks at him in confusion.
“So your teacher just got up and left their classroom?”
“This is detention sir” Callum snaps back.
“That's very unlike Hannah”. He said aloud to himself. “Hush down year..” he stops to think what year the students were.
“Eleven” Callum corrects.
“Okay, Year eleven you can leave this detention, go and meet up with your parents for Parents evening”. The class room moved like clockwork as the students rushed to get out.
Mike walks fully into the classroom and sits at the desk he fiddles with the keys on the desk. He cleans his glasses as some of the coffee splattered on the glass frame was a little sticky because Mike liked a lot of sugar in his coffee, god knows what Hannah was dealing with..
“What the actual fuc- eff” Hannah says into the mirror as she brushes her fingers through her hair. “What even was in that coffee?” she runs her hair under the tap and cleans as much of the sugar from her hair as possible, it was like concrete. Her makeup smudged, her eyeliner dripped down her face and her hair was wet with lumps of soggy sugar. She let out a great big sigh as she looked at herself in the mirror. she eyed the hand dryer to the left of her, walked over and ducked underneath it. By doing this action she cramped her neck.
“FUCK” she screamed “no!... Why me” she pleads and her knee gives way and she falls to the piss stained floor. “Why me?” she mutters. A notification beeped on her phone. It was from her brother.
“It’s dad.. He is dead” the message read. Hannah's face fell. Her first thought being. “He never broke away from that stupid advert”. Her second thought being. “What a sad life”. She was too broken to be broken over the announcement of her dad being dead. She couldn’t process it. She got up off of the floor and rushed outside breathing heavily, she held her chest and her vision was wonkey. She adjusted her damp color on her shirt and took a deep breath before walking. She walked unevenly down the path, she looked drugged, or even drunk. But she didn’t care, she just walked towards her car. She hummed the song her dad was famous for and cried as she did, she silently cried, tears only forming in her eyes but never falling.
She approached her car and reached into her pocket for her keys but they weren’t there. She shrugs her shoulders and punches her car window, her knuckles crack against the window, with the window staying solid.
“Fuck”
She kicked her car and lost her balance. On her way back up off the floor she grazed her knee on the concrete, with little stones sticking to the graze. She flinches as it hurts at first but she embraces the pain and continues to get up. Once up she wipes the little stones off of her knee and looks back to her car where she sees a reflection of Mike behind her dangling keys.
“Looking for these?” he smugly says and Hannah lets the tears fall from her eyes. “Oh no what's wrong” Mike says as he catches her falling into his arms. She sobs and doesn’t say much.