Fractured

Chapter 39

Groaning, I closed it and when I looked elsewhere, I had better luck. I found a package of sausage in the freezer and when I checked the small cupboards, I found pancake mix.  God yes.  Heaven.  Though I was making this for Luke, you can bet I'll be stealing some food away from him. 

By the time I got the sausage sizzling on the stove, I let my thoughts consume me. The entire time I was cooking too. It all came back to me too.  So vividly... especially the guy that was over me with that knife.  Trying to slash it down on me.  I stopped him and held his arm up and not a second later did Luke shoot him.  He shot a lot of people.  And all I could think... was how much he is suffering.  I honestly began to ponder over whether we should forget about everything today - the files, Clare, talking to the ones that did live and were arrested.  I knew we could handle it but it's not good to just let what happened pass by us as equally as every other insignificant thing that has happened.  This deserved my thought, more importance, and most of all, my time to deal with it. 

When I got to mixing the batter and found a pan for it, I started to cook the pancakes with the sausage.  Pouring just enough in the pan, I couldn't stop thinking about it.  He deserved a break.  After the mental hospital, I had a couple days just to relax at home.  That seemed short enough but if we don't get any time to let this process at all, it would sting.  It would make Luke feel guilty.  That he shot them then the next day, it was back to work.  If we could just stay here....  My thoughts began to revolve around that.  

I don't know how much time passed but even by the time I was finished with the sausage, shutting that burner off, I felt more determined to take care of him.  In any way I could.  Sighing, I slid the pan to another burner that wasn't as hot and continued with the pancakes.  I flipped the fourth one I made onto a plate where the steam it produced reached us in the air and overwhelmed me.  Glancing over to the clock on the yellowish walls, I noticed that it was 2:45 now.  And it was clear too.  The mid afternoon sky and sun shined in through the little window above the sink that was adjacent to where I stood at the stove, cooking.  With the sun lighting up part of the room, the floor, and partially my back, I felt it warm me. After all, it was a worn down looking place and very drafty.  Not to mention, I was still in my same shirt I wore before as well as my jeans.  I was cold and the heat of the food I was making helped as did that shining sun. 

With no more than the hissing sound of the pancakes still cooking, I flipped the fifth one over and since done, picked it up with the spatula and placed it on the big plate next to the stove with the rest of the finished pancakes. 

It was at that point where I heard something from behind me.  Of what sounded like footsteps coming down the hall.  And when I looked behind me, and towards the table and chairs where the entrance was next to, not a few seconds later did I hear those footsteps get closer and come into the kitchen. 

I groaned the moment I saw him come into the kitchen.  He took two steps into the kitchen before he stopped to look at me.  But those few steps towards me I noticed weren't too steady.  He still had a limp and I could see that the moment he came in the kitchen, his fist was clenched as was his jaw. Yes, very sore.  Still surrounded in pain.  I hoped the magic of food could help.  Of course, I wanted to surprise him instead of having him get his ass up and wobble to the kitchen.

"Cooking breakfast?" he asked from where he stood across the kitchen from me.  His hair being a mess, I noticed he put more of his weight on the one leg that didn't have the stitches.  He was still hurting, obviously.  I wished he was still sleeping when he wasn't tense like this.  His bare stomach and chest were tight, muscles beneath his skin putting pressure on his body.  The bandages scattered, they stopped at his sweat pants that were tied at his waist.  And if he wasn't as pained as he was, I would be openly appreciative of his looks.  Right now, I was just worried - and mad.