It's Not Over (RusAme Story)

Chapter 34- Ride

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

~America's POV~

I awoke to a splitting headache, and the sound of birds chirping outside. I stretched and sat up, clutching my head, and surveyed the room.

My thoughts swam, and slowly, everything from yesterday resurfaced.

Russia.

I cursed him in my mind. There were more important things to worry about right now than him, like why I had fainted on the stairs, or why I had seen his father in my dream.

I wonder what it meant.

I absentmindedly ran my fingers up and down my arm as I peered out the window. Grayish light filtered in through the windows, sparkling and reflecting off the pristine untouched snow outside. I peered closer to find deer tracks imprinted closer to the treeline, and something about the presence of wildlife comforted me.

I sighed, it dawning on me that I should probably get downstairs and let my grandmother know that I was okay. She was nowhere to be seen, probably because she was getting ready for the day, or giving me space. I decided that it was time for me to get up, even though all I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry.

Groaning, I swung my legs out of bed and stood up. I started toward the door when black spots invaded my vision. I braced my hand against the wall, frowning in concentration.

Did I not eat enough? I wondered. Wait-- what time was it?

I opened the door and peered down over the banister to find that the grandfather clock displayed six o clock. In the afternoon.

Why had I slept so long?

I yawned and pinched myself to wake up completely. Once I had done that, I realized that I should probably search for my grandmother. I willed myself to get out of bed and shakily climbed to my feet.

The cold air enveloped my arms and sent a chill shuddering through my body. I shook it off and padded over to the door when I realized things were awfully too quiet inside the house.

I creaked the door open and cautiously peered through the crack.

No one there.

"Aunt Cherokee?" I called down the stairs.

The sound of rustling was heard downstairs without a reply. A prickle of uneasiness crawled across my skin as I squinted down the staircase, trying to see if I could see her around the corner.

Suddenly I froze, a new panicked thought crossing my mind: Was Soviet here?

I shook my head, trying to calm my now erratic pulse.

He wouldn't dare involve himself with my grandmother.

Would he?

Multiple possibilities and questions flooded through my mind, but I didn't stop to waste time. If Soviet really was here, I wasn't going to sit around and wonder if he was here, because if he was, my grandmother needed help, and fast.

Biting my lip, I grabbed a decorative tomahawk that was displayed on the wall beside the banister. It was blunted, but in case I needed it, it should suffice. I breathed in deeply, trying to control my racing thoughts and pounding heart.

Bracing myself on the handrail, I started down the stairs, gleaming tomahawk gripped tightly in my hand while my other clutched the railing like a lifeline. I stepped lightly, begging the wooden floorboards not to creak underneath my weight. My heartbeat grew louder in my ears until I could barely hear anything over the pounding of my own heart.