Misfits

5 | look mom, i'm on tv!

❝the eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.❞
ｖｉｒｇｉｎｉａ ｗｏｏｌｆ

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   ＡＦＴＥＲ eight hours of a blissful, dreamless slumber, I wake up to the smell of pancakes.

A part of me wonders if it should worry me: on the night of the day I nearly get killed, I get the best sleep I've had in months. No visions, no nightmares, just me and my thoughts left alone in the dark in a warm, yet unfamiliar bed. Like a calm after the long storm that has been waging in my head.

I consider it a side effect of being friends with Emma and Cole.

The problem with having friends like Emma and Cole is that they attract more trouble than the average person. Danger follows them like a smoke trail to a bushfire; and if you get too close, you get lured in. Senses blocked, thoughts clouded, until you too begin to crave it: the trouble, the danger, the heart-racing feeling of narrowly avoiding death. And ironically, it becomes the only thing that brings you peace.

As I rise out of my bed and open the curtains to let the morning light stream into my room, our conversation from last night replays in my head.

Yesterday's events have been Emma and Cole's reality for the last two months. A battle of chaos and confusion against an unknown enemy. Apparently the first time it happened, they had assumed their assaulters were sent by the DA and couldn't understand why they were attacking them — which prompted them to evade the advances of the real DA agents that subsequently approached them, delaying their return.

The only thing they seem certain of is the fact someone is after them. Emma, Cole, or both, they aren't sure. However, their current theory is Cole, based on their attackers' more lethal approach to subduing Emma in comparison to him.

Our night concluded with an hour searching for Emma's jeep because none of us remembered exactly where she parked it. Then after establishing Emma and Cole had no other lodging plans (apparently, Lucerne had been a 'one-day trip' on their itinerary — whatever that meant), I managed to convince them to join me at this apartment, where I received an earful on the phone from my mother before falling asleep for the night.

Mom no doubt plans on calling again this morning, but I'd rather have my eardrums blown off on a full stomach when she starts barking about safety and staying inside and out of sight until the agents arrive.

The smell of pancakes intensifies as I approach the kitchen. I peer headfirst through the doorway to catch sight of Cole by the hob, pouring a ladle full of pancake batter into the metal pan, while Emma rummages a neighbouring cupboard for toppings.

Her hand lands on a bottle of maple syrup, and she turns around in time to meet my eyes as I fully walk into the room.

"Oh, good. Cass, you're up," she says, setting the syrup bottle on the kitchen table. "I hope you don't mind, we kind of helped ourselves to your kitchen."

"It's fine," I say. "It's as much mine as yours anyway."

Emma runs her fingers down the sides of her face, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears as she gazes around the kitchen. "Well," her gaze drops to the spread she was assembling, "pancakes?"

"I'd love some," I reply, pulling out a chair and taking a seat on the table.

My action relaxes Emma enough to do the same, and she settles with ease into the chair beside me.