Saving Olivia

Chapter 17

I drop my backpack on the floor, dragging my feet towards the kitchen.

"Whatcha making?" Kian calls from behind me, leaning on the counter.

"I was gonna make some popcorn and then watch a movie," I explain. I look back to the pantry, where loads of junk foods fill the counters.

Where's the damn popcorn?

I huff. "Why is it that I can never find things?"

I hear Kian chuckle quietly. "You're just not looking hard enough." He waltzes up the the pantry and picks out a bag of popcorn. My jaw drops.

"How-why, how did you-" I stutter, dumbfounded. "How did you find it so quickly?"

"I have the eyes of a hawk," Kian's eyes narrow, focusing on something behind me. Suddenly his face breaks out into a goofy smile.

"Nah, I'm just kidding. I was the one who put them there, you goof." He hits me on the shoulder, and I push him away.

"I hate you."

He just laughs and walks away. "I get to choose the movie!" He shouts.

"No you don't!" I yell back. "You choose it every time!"

I open the microwave and put the popcorn in there. I press the popcorn button and walk towards the living room, where Kian sits holding the remote in his hand.

"Nuh-uh uh," I say, moving my index finger back and forth. "Give me the remote. It's my turn to pick what movie we watch."

"But Livie..." he groans, slouching forward.

"Don't Livie me now. You choose every time. Give me the damn remote." I hiss, my mood switching from happy to irritated.

Kian looks taken aback. His eyes are wide, jaw dropped. He looks hurt for a moment, and then his face loses all emotion whatsoever. He gives me the remote, shoving it in my hand.

"Fine. You want the damn remote, you can have the damn remote." He pushes himself up off the couch and stomps up the stairs quickly.

What's his problem? All I did was say give me the damn remote.

Ohhh... I know. Before most of this year happened I never swore. Not out loud, at least. So... I've never sworn at Kian before, which probably made him mad. I can understand that, but it's not my problem. He's needs to toughen up, be a man.

I sigh, plopping down on the couch to find a movie. The popcorn has only just started popping, so I should have enough time to find something. I scroll through the channels, remembering any numbers that have food movies on.

"Should I just go on Netflix?" I think out loud. "Yeah, I'm just going to go on Netflix."

I start to get up to switch the input when the microwave beeps. I turn and head towards the kitchen. On my way there, I hit the sharp part of the counter top.

"Shit! Ouch, ouch, ouch..." I clutch my side, breathing in and out quickly. I lift up my shirt a little bit, exposing my side. A small scratch is there, blood slowly forming.

"Stupid counter," I pout, walking slowly towards the microwave. I open the door to let the fumes out and then walk to the bathroom to get a bandage.

I rummage through the drawers. Melatonin, Lunesta, Antidepressants...

Yeah, my dad got me antidepressants. I'm never going to use them, though. I'm fine with how I am.

There. Band-Aids. I grab the box and take out a single band-aid, lifting my shirt up again. I unwrap it and place it carefully on the cut.