Handcuffed

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It took forever for me to fall asleep. It shouldn't have really considering this was the first time in a long time I was sleeping in an actual bed. It was so nice and comfortable; warm. Yet, god was punishing me for laughing at my mother's distress. I was sweating and a sick feeling began to crawl over me. I needed the drugs. Not the ones that called me a psycho. The ones that numbed everything for me. Weed, pot, smoking, marijuana... oh god, I needed it badly last night. What I didn't realize was how stupid I was being at the moment. It wasn't just pot I needed. No, it was much more than that....

Now that it was no longer last night, it was much worse. I was shaking, my whole body having a reaction to not having the drugs in my system. And my body wasn't all that was affected. The stress, the worry, and guilt was over me again and I did not like it. I didn't like having those feelings. I wanted them gone and getting high could do that. I had to get those drugs.... I just hoped Mark would be willing to help me. I would understand if he didn't want to - since I technically stole from him. And if he couldn't help... well, that meant I would have to get to the next town that much sooner tonight. I was still determined to meet that town's drug dealer I was going to be heading to. It seemed like to long of a wait since it was still only morning.

Walking downstairs after I woke up, I smelled something I never imagined smelling (in this house anyway). Eggs. By now, I was on alert once that scent reached my brain. This doesn't happen. I am the only one that cooks and it was usually when Clare demanded it. I never woke to breakfast made.

Slowly walking downstairs, I walked through the living room that was still a little hard to get use to. There were a lot of changes to this place including who was living in it. Looking around and seeing nobody in the living room - which was where Clare usually is most of her time if I recall correctly - I then proceeded into the kitchen.

But as I stepped into the new kitchen, I froze, seeing Luke standing before the stove I figured they never used. I guess I was wrong. Standing over the pan of eggs he was scrambling, he flipped the eggs over and over with the spatula in his hand. His back to me, I was still able to see the small amount of smoke that rose from the frying pan towards the ceiling as he cooked the eggs.

I took in his form, curious. Because I was the only person to ever cook in this house - well, besides the people that once lived here before us I'm sure. But just watching someone else cook, and just someone in general cooking after a year of barely any cooking, made me fascinated. He was wearing a worn out green tee-shirt that hung off the shoulders in a way that looked too big. Too bad too because I wouldn't mind seeing him in a tighter shirt. He looked muscular. I wouldn't mind finding that out for sure though. He was also supporting a pair of comfortable looking blue jeans and as my eyes crawled down him, taking him in, and they lingered. He had a nice ass in those jeans.

"Where is Clare?" I asked, interrupting the crackling of the eggs on the stove. I wanted to know if I should be on guard or not this early in the morning. I felt myself shaking and I needed to go to Mark's place as quickly as I could. I just hope Luke goes to work soon because I figure that after last night, he wouldn't freely let me leave the house. He must suspect that I was interested in running away again from the struggle I put up with last night. But from how he was looking now, he didn't look ready for work yet. No uniform, just casual clothes. He didn't look much like an officer now; just a regular guy.

After I spoke, Luke turned around, seeing I was there and the one that asked the question. His eyes met mine. They were twice as tired as they were yesterday. His mouth was set in a line. He looked exhausted. I can only imagine why. He faced me now in a lazy stance.

"She is gone." He said, voice dead and tired, before turning his back to me again, continuing with the breakfast he was preparing. Moving the spatula in the eggs, he flipped over the still wet and slimy side of the eggs, the side cooked now up.