The Little House of Paints

Chapter 21

Numbly, I watch as John is taken away in the ambulance. I tried to step forward to get in with him, determined to stay by his side, but something stops me. The person gripping my arm is holding me back. I try to fight them, using any reserved energy that I can muster up, but they are too strong. I can't shake their grip.

"Kendahl." My name is accompanied by a shake. Looking over, I see Miller.

"What are you guys doing here?" I realize that not only is Miller here, but also Levi and Max.

"I called them." Teagan pipes up, from her spot on the other side of me.

"Okay, I'm going to go home. I need to take a nap." I start going towards my car, but Miller stops me again. When I look at him, he shakes his head.

"I'll take you." Levi hands him a blanket, the same one from the clearing, that he takes and wraps around my shoulders. It is only when the slightly scratchy fabric is circled around me that I realize I'm shaking. My white shirt, now covered in blood, is hanging limply in my hands and somewhere in all the mess someone put me in a sweatshirt. I try to push the blanket off my shoulders.

"I'll ruin it." Miller quickly stops me, wrapping the sides of it tighter around me.

"It's fine." He moves me closer to his car. I slide into the seat without further protest. He puts out his hand to me and I look up at him, the question clear in my eyes, "Car keys."

I shift slightly and take them out of my pocket. He jogs away leaving me alone.

"I call driving!" I vaguely hear Levi yell before leaning my head against the cool glass of the passenger window. The last thing I remember is the driver's door closing before I drift off into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

______

When I wake up, I'm not in my bed. Not even in my own bedroom. Instead, this one is a dark gray color and has different sports trophies lining its walls. Rock band posters fill in any of the blank spaces between the trophies. The bed is also much larger than mine. Most likely a queen or even a king, which dwarfs my twin. However, there is one familiar thing about this room. The orange purring ball of fluff that is settled at my feet, cocooned the multiple blankets covering me.

Sensing that I am awake, Jericho moves towards my hand to get scratched. At least that is what I think he was doing. Instead, he steps over me and goes to my back.

Bracing myself, I turn over. In the time that it takes me to reach my final destination, I realize that I've seen this room before. The closest I ever got to it was when I was passing by on my way to his sister's room that is a few doors down. Seems like even though the man changed, his childhood bedroom remained much the same.

The sight of its owner greets me as I complete my turn. I'm not surprised by this though, it makes sense that he wouldn't leave someone alone in his room. I know that I wouldn't. Well with the exclusion of a few people.

What does surprise me though is that Jericho is happily allowing his chin to be scratched by Miller. Whenever he has come into contact with any male either he runs or attacks. There are only two options. Never, never has he let any of them touch him. I am broken from my stupor when Miller finally speaks.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" I know that isn't the question he wants to ask, but I am appreciative that he doesn't go for the kill immediately.

"As well as you might think." The response is short and blunt, but I still don't have it in me to be talkative. A few hours of sleep, restless sleep, is not going to get me in the conversing mood. Especially with him, whom I have still yet to figure out a connection to Sandra.