Chaos

Chapter 4

I wake up to the sensation that I'm falling. My eyes snap open and I take in my surroundings. The stairs are moving underneath me and I feel warm. I realize that Casey is carrying me upstairs, pressed to his chest. I take a deep breath, amused at how I managed to scared myself. A door on our right opens as Casey gives it a quiet nudge. I adjust my grip on his neck and he looks down at me.
"Well," he starts, "Sleeping beauty has awakened." He chuckles as he sets me down on the poorly made bed that I assume is his. I smile through the cloud of sleep that still envelopes me.
"Nope," he chuckles to himself, "She's out again." He pushes my head onto the pillow and pull the blanket up. I hear him softly close the door before I'm asleep again.

The sunlight blinds me when I open my eyes. I bury my head into the pillow noticing that it smells different yet familiar. I groan as I push myself up in Casey's bed. I look down and see that I'm still in my clothes from yesterday. Upon closer inspection I can see that my black tank top has several spots of blood on it. I need to change.
I pull open the drawers next to the bed and find several old t-shirts. I yank my tank top over my head and pull on the ratty gray shirt. I decide to ditch the shorts too, as I can see tiny glass fragments still clinging to the hem. I look through the other drawers for shorts to no avail. All I find are several of Casey's boxers, but that seems a little weird. I'd rather eat breakfast in my underwear as opposed to his. The shirt is big enough on me that you can't see my underwear anyway.
I push open the door and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. I'm greeted by the smell of eggs and sausage wafting through the house. Casey stands at the stove working over several pans of food. He just has a pair of sweatpants on and I can't help but notice the muscles of his shoulders flex as he stirs the pans.
"What happened to mac and cheese for breakfast?" I ask, sliding onto the counter next to the stove. He looks up at me and grins.
"Do really want mac and cheese?" He teases, flipping a perfectly made omelet in the skillet.
"No I think I'll live."
He chuckles and goes back to manning the stove. His eyes trail over my bare legs and up to his shirt I'm wearing. A small smile spreads over his lips as he turns off the burners. He reaches over me to grab two plates, grazing my thigh as he does.
"You want to take these to the couch again?" He asks.
I nod, shaking some salt and pepper onto the plate of eggs he hands me.
This time I wait for him to sit down first, then I spread my legs out resting my feet on his lap. He turns on the tv and we watch old reruns most of the morning.

At around noon I stand up and stretch, "I desperately need a shower."
Casey nods and pushes himself off the couch. "Let me show you where it is." He leads me back upstairs to a door across from his room. I push open the door to find a huge bathroom. The white tile sparkles as the sunlight from the open window streams in.
"Case, your bathroom is sick!" I exclaim rushing to the shower. "What did you spend all the money you saved in the rest of the house in here?" I laugh.
"That's exactly what I did," he grins. "Well I'll leave you to it." He closes the door softly behind him.
I make my way over to the mirror and take a deep breath. I pull up the back of my shirt, finally daring to look at my glass shredded back. I groan as I pull the back of my shirt all the way up to my shoulder blades. My whole back is a mass of bruises ranging from blue to purple to almost black. The cuts aren't to big, but they sure left behind some bruises.
"Woah."
I look up in mirror to see Casey holding a pile of clean towels. His eyes are glued to my bruises. I turn around letting my shirt fall down over my back.
"No," he says, setting down the pile of towels, "Let me see." He walks over to me and gently turns me back around. He gingerly pulls up the back of my shirt to see my back.
He sighs as his hand trails lightly over my bruises. He stays quiet, just staring at the mottled purple colors on my back. I'm about to tell him not to worry when I feel him move. He presses his lips softly against my bruised shoulder. My breath catches in my throat. He trails his lips down my back, not missing a spot. I lean against the marble countertop as he makes his way back up toward my neck. He pulls my hair aside and kisses right below my jaw line. I sigh and tilt my head the other way, giving him more room. His lips kiss down my neck until he reaches the neckline of his shirt.
"That's mine..." he whispers in my ear, "and I think I want it back."
"Really?" I ask, leaning back against his bare chest. "Then take it."
I feel him smile against my neck. He plants a soft kiss on my jaw, trailing his hand down and resting it on my backside.
"Not now," he says pulling away, a smug grin spread across his face. He turns toward the door and swings is open.
I spin around to face him. "That's so not fair," I say incredulously.
"What?" He asks feigning innocence. "You're the one who wanted a shower, so go ahead." I watch in frustration as he saunters out, closing the door behind him.
"Well, shit." I mutter, turning on the shower.