Friendzoned By The Badboy

Chapter 3 || Channing Tatum

TW: small spaces/ being trapped (skip the first paragraph if you're sensitive to this content)

I look up. Merely four inches from the tip of my nose is wood, barred shut with dozens of heavy metal nails. I looked to my right; and there with me lies my mother and my brother, Triston; ghostly white and as still as stone. I call their names and shake them until I realize, there's no use. Everything is closing in on me, I feel sobs rising up my throat, my breath shaking and quickening slowly until I'm hyperventilating. I let out a blood-curdling scream and try to thrash around my legs and arms even though I'm physically unable to.

• • •

My eyes fly open and I sit up in my bed, sweating profusely. Just a dream, Vivian, just a dream. My hands and legs are shaking and with one swift motion I tear the sweaty sheets from my legs and put my head in my hands, vivid images of my nightmare still spinning in my head. I massage my throbbing forehead and check the time on my phone: 05:07.

I decide to clear by mind by taking an ice cold shower to clear my mind, before dressing for school and going downstairs, slowly and quietly, trying not to wake mom and Tris from their peaceful slumber. I lean against the kitchen counter, wondering what I should treat mom and Tris for breakfast.

After minutes of self debate, I conclude that I will make pancakes with maple syrup, because pancakes cannot go wrong, go figure.

I prepare the pancake mixture before heating the pan, and add the butter and oil. I pour the cake mixture into the pan. As I wait for the pancakes to rise, I subconsciously place my left palm on the side of the searingly hot pan; and I yelp in affliction. My stupidness amazes me sometimes. I stare, dumbfounded, at the disgusting monster blister already forming below my index finger.

"Honey- are you okay?" My mom panics, walk-running into the kitchen, still in her nightgown.

I show her my blister, "Actually mom, I was making break-"

"Hang on, let me get my first-aid bag, that looks painful and pretty gross," she points out, hurrying out of the kitchen and upstairs.

"Thanks a lot, mom," I chuckle, as I turn over the pancake with my good hand. I bite my lip. Is she going to ask me why I woke up so early? It's okay, I'll just tell her that I couldn't sleep, yaddah, yaddah; no biggie. I place the pancakes onto two plates; a floral ceramic plate for mom, and a Spiderman plate for Tris.

Mom lays out the emergency kit on the dining table, taking out a tube of burn cream and a roll of hot pink bandage cloth. She applies the cream onto the blister and eyes me wearily.

"So... up early?"  she asks, raising an eyebrow and glancing at my black coffee.

"I could ask you the same," I laugh, but come to an abrupt halt when I see mom's deadpan expression. "Okay, not funny. I couldn't sleep, that's all. Had too much caffeine last night, nothing... deep,"

"Alright, you've got a half hour until school starts, want a ride?"

"I think I'll take the bus, thanks mom," I hum, planting a kiss on mom's cheek before standing up abruptly and grabbing my backpack.

"Enjoy the breakfast!" I call out as I approach the front door, whilst awkwardly slipping on my vans. I look at my bandaged hand. "Oh and thanks for fixing my hand!"