After

Chapter 9

Noah's pov
I wake up feeling the warmth of Amanda's arms around me, making me smile. I slowly look down at her, she looks as tired as can be! Her work really must've tired her out, like it does everyday. I decide not to wake her, because she'll be cranky, and she probably wants to sleep. So, I slowly slip out from under the covers, out of her grasp, and quietly tiptoe out of the room, making sure I don't wake her.

Instead of going downstairs, I decide to see if Richelle is awake. Without hesitating, I gently tap my fingers on her door. Quietly, I ask, "Richelle? Are you awake?"

Almost immediately, the door swings open, causing me to fall forwards a little. I regain my balance, and see, standing in front of me, Richelle. Her curly blonde hair is slightly tattier than it was when I last saw her. Well, duh. She probably moved a lot in her sleep, causing her hair to tassel. Her lips look cracked and dry, probably needing some of Amanda's lip balm. Last, but not least, her expression seems frightened, and her eyes are staring into mine as if something is wrong. But what?

"Richelle," I say softly, "are you alright?"

The most obvious answer is no. How could she be alright? After what she's been through! Why do I always ask stupid questions? But, aside from all that, what is there for her to be afraid of? There's me and Amanda, we aren't scary! Well, she did seem a little intimidated by Amanda last night, but certainly not me!

She looks down, taking her eyes off mine to focus on her thumb-twiddling that she has just started, a distraction technique. I look at her sympathetically before saying, "Sorry, stupid question. How about I get you something to eat, before we go?"

"Go? Go where?"
"The police, Richelle. They have to know what happened, and that you're here."
"Okay..."

Her voice was faint, but audible. Gently, I tuck my arm around her, pulling her slightly closer to me. To my surprise, she didn't flinch or try to get away, she just went with it. I smile a little before taking her downstairs and sitting her down at the table.

I pour her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and put some toast on for both of us. Once, it had pops up, I give it to her, along with the juice, and took my slice. She devours it in a matter of seconds, where I, on the other hand, haven't even had a chance to take a nibble of mine. I chuckle a little, before asking, "Do you want some more? I expect you're still hungry."

As a response, she nods her head, yes. Quickly, I stand up and walk towards the bread bin, picking out two pieces and pushing them into the toaster, waiting for them to pop up. To break the silence, I decide to make conversation. "How did you sleep last night?"

She pauses for a few seconds, hesitating whether to answer my question or not. But, she does. "Fine, thanks."

Somehow, I don't feel convinced. But, I'm not going to argue with her. The last thing I want to do is scare her.

"So," I say, changing the subject, "do you think you can tell the police your story?"

Slowly, she nods her head, yes, but looks unsure. I hope she can, I won't be allowed in there with her, so I can't reassure her that everything is fine if she starts to become uncomfortable, not to mention scared.

Suddenly, the two slices of toast pop up, dragging me out of my thoughts like a cat being dragged out of a hedge by its tail. (Random, don't judge me). Quickly, I grab them out of the toasted which was a big mistake. I forgot how hot toast is when it comes straight out of the toaster. Ouch!

"Ow!" I yell in pain, "That's hot!"
"Here," Richelle's small voice says, and, instantly, she's by my side with a cold, damp paper towel, gently wrapping it around my finger, stopping the burn.
"Thank you," I reply, smiling at her.

Whilst she goes to sit down, I wait until her toast isn't scorching hot, and serve it to her. She takes it from me, and mumbles a 'thank you'. I sit down beside her, placing an arm around her, making sure she feels safe. That's all until we both hear- "NOAH!"