♥Chapter 3: ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀ ɪɴʜᴀʟᴇʀ♥

✿Kennedy✿

My eyes flutter open in the middle of the night and I groan immediately.

Once my eyes open in the middle of the night it gets really hard to go back to sleep.

Knowing my fate, I kick the covers off me and get down the bed.

I remember when this happened literally every night and I used to run over to the next room where mom and dad would be sleeping. I used to jump in between them and them knowing my daily night routine would just cuddle up with me instead of sending me back to my room.

I miss my old house. I'm glad I got all my precious stuff before the house got sold off. My finger trails over one of the photo frame with mom and dad in it. I got over them much quicker than I ever thought I would.

I cried and starved myself for the very first days when Dr. Gabriel gave me the news of their deaths. Eventually, the nurses forced the food down my throat and told me I needed to eat to recover from the accident.

A sigh comes out of my lips before I lift my eyes off the frame and look around.

Now what do I do?

Should I call Gary?

He'd block me.

A slight uneasiness blooms in my chest, and I tiredly look around for my inhaler. I scan the bed, the desk, the dresser, inside my wardrobe.

I freeze.

Where's my inhaler?

Oh no, no, no, no, no. Gary would get so mad at me if he knew I lost my inhaler.

I throw open my door and run down the stairs as slowly as I could. I don't want to trigger anything without my inhaler with me. I search around the living room, the kitchen, the cabinets—Ooo my knives. Not the time!

I force myself away from the knives.

Inhaler, first.

But those knives are so pretty.

Inhaler, first!

I never really imagined how my life would go without my inhaler. If I don't use it I might as well as die right now. Take me away Angel of Death!

The dull ache in my chest grows as I move to find to my inhaler. My back hits something and a loud crash clangs throughout the house.

A wince crosses my face as I slowly turn around.

There lies the innocent victim. Le vase.

Moments pass before the sound of a door opening reaches me. Footsteps thud down the stairs and I tense up. I didn't actually mean for the Angel of Death to come get me! Am I really gonna die?

Deciding to defend myself from that evil soul, I grab a cushion from the couch and hide against the wall beside the stairs. When the footsteps come closer, I raise the cushion above my head, ready to attack.

He appears before my eyes with a tall body and a confused frowning face. Sea-green eyes blink at me in surprise, but I was already swinging the cushion with a battle cry from my mouth. The cushion whacks him hard on the chest.

A squeak leaves my mouth when I realize too late who it is.

"Jake?" My eyes widen.

His eyebrows join together as he glares at me.

"I didn't know you're the Angel of Death," I say, quietly.

Is Alex Lucifer then?

Jake frowns at me before looking around. His eyes roaming around my toys with a distasteful look until his eyes lands on the broken pieces of the vase.

"Oh um that," A nervous laugh comes out my lips, "Your cat broke it."

He brings his frown back at me.

Before I can make up another excuse, a fit of coughs erupts from my throat and my eyes water. I lean against the wall, holding myself up as I cough my lungs out.

Jake just stands, watching me with a blank face.

After regaining myself, I stand up straight, laughing with a scratchy throat, "Oh mama. I was about to puke my lungs at you. Pretty sure that won't be pretty. I mean I would obviously die but what would you do with four lungs?" I snort.

He only gives me a weird look before walking past me without a word.

Why doesn't he speak? Is he mute? I pout sadly.

I follow Jake into the kitchen and give him a sorry look while he searches through a cupboard, looking for something.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were mute. I could never imagine having to live without talking. I mean people say I'm too silent for my own good, so I don't really know. Do you know sign language? We can both learn some tutorials on YouTube and maybe-"

"Can you shut up?" He snaps, spinning around to glare at me.

I blink in surprise, "You're not mute?" I ask then add, "Obviously not. You just spoke."

He rolls his eyes, "Just shut up for a moment."

He looks annoyed as he takes out a broom and a dustpan from the cupboard. He walks towards me and for a moment I thought he was going to stuff me on that dustpan and throw me out. Instead, He walks past me, bumping into my shoulder, purposefully, which almost causes me to fall.

"Rude." I mumble under my breath, rolling my eyes, and follow him out the kitchen and into the living room.

I watch as he quietly brooms the broken glass pieces into the dustpan. The muscles of his arm ripple as he works them with dark veins running up and down his arms. I look at my own scrawny arms. Oh mama, I need to start working out. Maybe I can ask him for some bicep muscle tips.

Does gaining muscle strength help you take over the world? I mean if I'm strong then I can toss people around and maybe they'll fear me and hand me over the world.

Should I try lifting Jake right now?

I raise my arms and take a step towards him. His eyes flick in my direction, noticing me, and I quickly change my position and pretend I'm marvelling at the ceiling.

"Dang you got some great lightbulbs," I say. "Are those LEDs?"

When I got no answer, I look back at Jake to see him continuing with his sweeping.

"You clean almost as good as Snow White." I compliment.

He picks up the dustpan with the glass pieces, moving towards the trash.

"Oh have you seen my inhaler by the way?" I ask. "I must have dropped it here somewhere."

He responds by giving a shake of his head.

"You sure?" I ask. "Think deep. It's small yellow color plastic type thing with smudged Sharpie drawings on it."

His eyes roll upwards as he thought. The same frown etched on his face.

"It's in the trash." He speaks after a while.

I blink, not seeming to hear his words properly, "You mean it's in my room under my pillow where I've probably kept it and forgot to check properly?"

He silently gazes at me.

I almost march towards Jake to grab his shoulders and shake the living daylights out of him.

"Did you say trash?" My mouth drops wide open.

He gives a shrug, "Saw it lying on the floor outside my bedroom door."

My mouth drops even wider. "So you put it in the trash?"

"I didn't know it was an inhaler."

"You-you don't know what an inhaler looks like?" I ask in bewilderment.

He silently gazes at me again.

"I'm going to die!" I yell before pacing around the living room with my hands behind my back thinking how much time I have left.

If I call Gary he'll kill me first before giving me a new inhaler. Then what's even the use of a new inhaler if I'm already dead? Gary doesn't make sense sometimes. Weird guy.

I usually don't survive thirty minutes without my inhaler. I always need frequent pumps from it to keep my windpipe from feeling like a clogged toilet. Oh mama, do I have to use my nebulizer now? How am I going to carry it all around with me?

Will I feel good if I attack Jake right now?

I don't think I can. I mean he's literally so huge making me look like Chicken Little. I need Alex's gun to knock him out.

"Why did you throw my inhaler in the trash?" I ask, resisting the urge to cry.

"It looked like trash." His tone is short, clipped...and really deep and gorgeous. Like a man. Oh wait, he is a man. I think. I mean he looks like one.

"How does a life saver look like trash?" I ask.

He chooses to ignore me and move towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" I call after him. "Are you going to find my inhaler?"

"I'm going to sleep." He speaks in an annoyed tone.

Why does he act as if he hates me?

Wait, does he? He acts like it. But what did I do to him? I don't want anyone to hate me.

I climb up the stairs to follow him but pause and sit down in the middle when I couldn't catch my breath and breathe properly. The dull ache in my chest rises until the pain resembles someone stabbing me. My lungs seem like they would combust, and I start gasping for air, leaning my head back on the step behind me.

Heavy footsteps thud above me and for a moment I thought Jake was going to trample over my body and finally get rid of me. Instead, he just stands above me, frowning down at me with his beautiful sea-green eyes.

"You have asthma." He states, blankly.

So he doesn't know what an inhaler looks like, but he knows what asthma looks like?

"Nebulizer..." I breathe hard, "...in my bag."

He glances at the room where I'm supposed to be staying before looking back at me.

I think people are supposed to rush around and call the ambulance when they see someone dying but this man looks as calm as a freaking fish.

After a long moment, he bends down, grumbling under his breath, as he slides his arms beneath me and picks me up in his arms. Woah, strong arms. My eyes widen when my face comes near his huge chest.

Holy mama, are my cheeks supposed to turn this hot?

He walks up the stairs carrying me and kicks the door open to my room, placing me down on the bed. He looks around and spots my suitcase. I watch as his large arms work to open my suitcase and pull out a box that has my nebulizer inside.

I hate using nebulizers because of how you'll have to hold that mask on your face until the whole medication passes to your lungs.

"How do you turn this on?" He asks flipping over the nebulizer machine in his large hands.

Watch a YouTube tutorial.

"Plug the machine." I could barely breathe anymore as I lean against the headboard of the bed.

Jake plugs in the machine and from that he seems to understand what to do next. He connects the tube to the mask and machine and hands me the mask. I put the mask to my face securing it around my head with the band.

After clicking a button on the machine, a cool mist seeps from the mask as I breathe it in. Jake watches me for a while, his eyes gazing at my face before travelling down my body and stopping at my bare legs. Boy, he wishes he could have my legs.

Not that his legs aren't good. They're thick and long and gorgeous. Am I supposed to feel this way about someone? I never felt this way about Gary. If I could see his legs that is. His stomach covers half of it.

Just kidding. Gary has a slim stomach. I only tease him that way.

After staring at my skinny legs, he turns around and walks towards the door.

"Thank you for helping-"

The door slams shut before I can even complete my sentence.

I huff and lean back onto my bed as the nebulizer continues soothing my lungs with the cool mist.

Why does Jake have to be so rude? Is he jealous of my legs? I know they're gorgeous, but he doesn't have to be jealous. I should compliment his legs tomorrow. Maybe he'll feel better and stop hating me.

✄ ✄ ✄ ✄

How's the book so far?

Words: 2,000

Date of posting: 17th March