The Light Behind Death (Book 1)

Chapter Six

A/N - hey guys, so here's the next chapter. hope you like it and vote and comment, whatever you guys like to do. I would appreciate it so much. i think this chapter is longer than my usual ones, so here goes:

_________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Six

I sat up, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. Autumn, Ashley and Vlad were still asleep whereas Channing was not even in the room. I tried to swallow my spit only to find that my throat was dry to the core. I forced several coughs in order to set the lump in my throat free but it refused to leave. I traced my lips with my tongue where a crisp lining of skin covered them to soften them up again. I released a final cough in another attempt to force the lump free but, again, this failed.

I got out of bed and made my way to the main room towards the fridge in irritation. Channing was watching TV as I took out a can of coke from the fridge but he didn’t glance my way when I came through the door. I chugged down half the content of the can, feeling the cold fizziness against the inside of my throat and I was filled with sensation as the lump finally vacated the centre of my throat.

“Where are the Officers?” I asked, strolling over to Channing where I stopped beside him as he was sitting on one corner of the sofa. I thought he wasn’t going to answer me at first so I stared down at him, boring my gaze to his right cheek until he frowned up at me.

“…leave…first person…up.” Even with the closeness I was barely able to hear him. After a moment thought I assumed he was talking to himself.

“Did you say something?” I took a sip of the remaining drink.

“I said…” And he repeated himself, louder this time.

I should’ve thanked him: that’s what anyone else would’ve done but instead I went for the more ill-mannered option, “You could’ve spoke a little louder the first time!” It was almost a hiss.

He ignored me and continued to flick through channels in search of a programme of his preference. I went around and took a seat on the same sofa as him, making sure there was a good distance between us.

“So they left when you woke up? When was that?” His response was a nod where he barely took his eyes off the TV screen. One more flick of the channel and then he stopped, placing the remote on the arm of the chair beside him.

“I woke up around six, err… half an hour ago,” he eventually replied. I turned my gaze to the television, the cheers from the set caught my attention. For a while I was captured by the programme unable to divert my eyes off it: A race between two cars was just about to begin with two commentators introducing the two. Moments into the race I found myself cheering and sitting at the edge of the sofa, praying for the yellow racing car which was ahead of the purple one, to finish at front.

Long ago, back when my mother, my father and I were living happily together, my father would buy us three tickets to go watch racing cars live. My father’s friend owned a racing track which we would all regularly attend.

Channing joined me with the cheering and I warmed up to him just a teeny tiny little bit; having the same interest has to count for something, right?

“C’mon, c’mon! One lap left.” I heard him chant as the yellow car, which he was also rooting for, fell behind into the last lap. “Damn!”

All too soon the race ended with triumphant. We both ended up briefly looking at each other with a gleeful smile. The commentators announced a break before the next race and so I took this opportunity to fulfil my curiosity. I mean, technically we’ve bonded through our love of racing cars.