Kidnapped, Or As I Like To Call It, Saved

Kidnapped, Or As I Like To Call It, Saved -chapter 9-

Bly’s POV

            Did I ever tell you how much I love coffee?

Well I do. A lot. In fact, I love it so much that I decided to grace myself with some at 10 in the morning since I haven’t slept all night since our little ‘incident’. Good god I must be going completely mad…

            I walked briskly down the hallway, hugging my sweatshirt to my body. The halls were still dim, but not as dim as they are in the middle of the night. I looked myself over in one of the mirrors hung on the collage of wall decorations. I had bags the size of Cape Cod hung under my eyes, but the rest of me looked completely fine. I sighed, knowing it could always be worse… I think.

            I continued down the hallway, my mind bussing and my heart still throbbing slightly. It hurt actually… like physically hurt, and it wasn’t as though I was going to go into cardiac arrest or something, but I felt… sore. I had never experienced such a thing. My mind in a knot along with my stomach, which I made myself believe, was hunger.

            Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I sprinted for the kitchen. I made it there in half the time. I fixated my hair and tried to make myself look presentable before entering through the white painted door.

            I walked in to come face to face with Chris, happily reading the news and looking well rested, Ivan who was chowing down on breakfast, which happened to be homemade frosted flakes. I didn’t even think that was possible, but when there’s a will there’s a way I suppose…

            And finally in the corner by the refrigerator, making coffee ironically was none other than Nero himself. My body suddenly was at attention and I panicked for a quick moment before I scolded myself to keep my cool. I relaxed my shoulders a tad bit and composed myself after saying good morning to the group as a whole to avoid any awkwardness.

            Chris and Ivan replied cheerfully back as if nothing was the matter, Ivan had a mouth full of frosted flakes, but it was heartfelt. Nero on the other hand was silent and didn’t move to at least acknowledge my existence. He only stared hard at the coffee maker that bubbled with life. Chris picked up on the awkwardness right away and looked to Nero, and then over to me.

            I darted my eyes away and began to rummage for anything at all in the cupboards. Coffee clearly wasn’t going to be an option, unless I was willing to risk the only peace of mind I had left, which I wasn’t, so maybe I could dig up some hot coco or something? I didn’t even want to be in the fridge I was so nervous of him.

            I finally, with all my luck and shinning stars, found an old broken coffee maker hidden in the depths of the far cupboard to the right, hidden underneath a pot. How convenient.

            I smiled proudly, but only to myself. I managed to squeeze it out of the mess with a few clattering of pans and such, and a few odd stares, before I yanked it out. I looked it over for a moment to see that not only was it broken, but dust covered and ancient. I suppose it would have to do though.

            I cracked the thing open ignoring the stares, now even emitting from Nero. My palms grew sweaty, and my face flushed with color. I pushed myself stubbornly through my work though. Finally, through much work and short circuiting, the thing started to grumble with the sound of coffee making, but only for thirty seconds.

            “Blasted piece of junk…” I growled and hit it with frustration. I rubbed my forehead for a moment before I resumed fiddling with the thing.