⋆·☆·⋆ chapter eleven - "Spencer isn't the only one with cabin fever in this cage."
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Day 14
The night was hot, Lottie was laid out on the couch. One of her legs bent upwards holding her book up the candle behind her being the only light downstairs. Sweat beaded her skin and coating any part of her skin that was covered. Even in her sleep short and tank top she was still suffering from the L.A. heat. Everyone was upstairs asleep, leaving only her and Gomez awake. Her sister was worried that she would take off again, but Lottie insisted that she had had too much coffee to even think about falling asleep.
To say she wasn't thinking about last night was an understatement. Here she was the only one awake, once again. The urge to leave was much stronger. Except this time she wasn't going to leave without any of her family. Wanting to get far away from any and all things the military had their dirty hands in. But she couldn't think of any other way to get all of their stuff out without just going through the front gate. She knew that most (if not all) of their important things were still packed and ready to go. Including the rations they were able to stockpile. Of course leaving her house wasn't going to be a smooth and easy thing to do. This was her Grams house. Her childhood house. Her first steps, her first words, her first everything. Her sister's first everything. Their mother's childhood house.
Every physical item that meant anything was put in a fire proof, water proof, crush proof, anything proof portable safe. Important documents, all four of them, items from their mother and grams, and important jewelry or keepsakes. Especially after the blackout they each packed the thing to the brim.
Scratching at the back door caught her attention. Thinking it's probably either a branch limb, or a stray cat. But she heard it over and over.
Slowly and quietly moving from off the couch she went over to the fireplace. Picking up one of the fire poker, one of the only sharp objects left out. Holding it slightly behind her as she took a step up to the dark glass door. Only able to see her reflection. Seeing a black figure now standing at the handle on the other side. Seeing the door slowly open and the person slowly slip it's way inside and shutting the door behind him. "Christ Lot's, you wanna take a swing at me now too?"
"Nick?!" She whispered yelled, dropping the stick to her side. "I was about to stab you, what the actual fuck?"
She went over and placed the poker onto the coffee table. "Why are you here?" She asked with her brows frowned, seeing the yellow flame show his face was red. Not like you just ran the mile, but like someone just slapped the shit out of you. "Lottie–" She already had his elbow in her hand and walked them to the bathroom. Shutting the door and placing him so his back was against the sink counter. Taking a few steps over towards the towel closet. Having to stand on the tip of her toes to reach the first-aid on the top shelf.
Placing it on the counter space next to them. Pinning him between her body and the counter. Reaching past him to the flashlight, turning it on and having the beam pointing up towards the ceiling. Because of the angle it lit up the entire room. Now with the better light she was able to see how red his check and a small cut on her brow. "We're matching," She teased, holding his chin to see the cut better.
