Crazies

Chapter Forty-Two

A/N
   Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and to those who celebrate something different Happy Holidays.

   As always I hope you enjoy and let's hope I keep writing. I plan to post a chapter every day until the new year.

*~* Sang Sorenson's POV *~*

My ears perk up at the sound of someone entering my room so I squint one eye open to investigate.

Only to be assaulted by the burning light of a thousand suns.

I groan in pain and quickly throw my arm over my face to try blocking out the light. 

This must be what death feels like.

The mystery person in my room chuckles at my misery and I raise one hand to flip off them. With the way my head pounds with every beat of my heart, I couldn't care less who receives the crude gesture. In my defense, they deserve it right now.

The thud of their heavy steps move around the room, evidently not wanting to leave me to suffer in silence, and I strain my ears to figure out what they were up to. Seconds later, I hear the unmistakable scraping sound the curtain makes when it slides open. More sunlight fills the room and slithers its way under my arm. Groaning again, I blindly smack my free hand around on the bed until I feel one of the pillows and hastily shove it over my face to block out every sliver of light that’s currently trying to melt my poor brain.

“I’m already dead,” I mumble against the pillow, “so please go away.” The person chuckles again before moving over to stand next to the bed off to my right, and I begrudgingly shift enough to peek one eye out to see who it is. 

Marc’s smiling face looks down at me with a plate in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. I don't say anything to him, only glare the best I can with only one eye uncovered, then bury my face back into the pillow. 

“Come on,” he urges me with a gentle nudge against the side of the bed, causing it to shake underneath me. "I have everything you need to feel less dead, so up you get Sweetness.”

“Nope,” I remark, my voice muffled thanks to the pillow. “I’m completely okay with feeling dead today.” 

There's some shuffling around before the sound of the plate and mug rattle off to my right as they are set down on the small night table. 

Then silence.

Curiosity pesters me until I can’t take not knowing what he’s up to so I lift the pillow enough to peek out the side. I realize too late that he was just waiting for the perfect time to strike and the moment I release my death grip on the pillow, he swiftly jerks it from me. 

I grumble nonsense as I finally sit up and reluctantly squint open my eyes. The bright sunlight spilling in through the window causes them to water but I blink away most of the tears and turn my attention to Marc. His large smile does nothing for my grumpy attitude and my glare-squint stays in place.

“Evil looks won’t save you this morning,” he says while picking up the mug and carefully handing it to me. The warmth radiating from the ceramic wraps around my fingers and I bring it up to see what’s inside. I breathe in the unmistakable rich scent of coffee mixed with the sweetness of chocolate.

“Thanks,” I grumble some more, not one hundred percent ready to give up my grumpiness. Bringing the mug to my lips, I tentatively take a sip as I prepare for that bitter taste of coffee, but I'm presently surprised to find that it tastes like the mocha Starbucks drinks the boys used to get me. Now, I happily take larger sips, spreading warmth down my chest and into my stomach.