After The End: Alex Rider FanFiction

~Chapter Thirty-Two~

Alex's (POV)

       I yawn, my attention on Mack as I watch him attempt to make hamburgers for supper.

        I'm sitting on one of the barstools along the countertop, Mack bustling around the kitchen while he gathers his ingredients.

      "Some spices, a tad of steak sauce." Mack mumbles to himself as he stirs the meat   In a bowl, mixing everything together.

       "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I quietly ask him, all energy depleted from me.

        I yawn again.

        "Are you kidding?" Mack loudly says in disbelief, waving the spoon around. "I was born to coo-." He hits a jar with his hand, knocking it off the counter.

       Thankfully that was a plastic one.

       Mack looks sheepishly down at it. "Whoops." He shrugs, going back to mixing his stuff.

      I hold in a laugh.

       You could say Mack and I are done with avoiding each other. The atmosphere having gone back to what it had been last week before I told him.

       I frown, reality returning.

       I rub my forehead, a headache pounding away.

       I'd been able to distract myself for a short time while watching Mack fool around in the kitchen.

       But I can't avoid it anymore.

       Dark thoughts that've been circling around in my head since my discovery early this morning, returning now with full force.

      Tell him.

      Because now I know without a doubt that Ben is with the group of people that've been terrorizing farms.

       I open my mouth, trying to make the words come. But all I manage to get out is another yawn.

       Let's face it, I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Everything distracting me.

       Mack moves over to the skillet that's on top of the stove, his bowl securely tucked in his arms.

       He uses his "clean" hands to ball up some of the meat, then places them onto the skillet, squishing them down flat.

      Do it.

      I make fists with my hands, nails biting into my skin.

      "Mack." I say, trying to get his attention.

       He glances over at me for a second, then goes back to his cooking. "What?" He questions.

       "Umm, I-I thin-." A knock sounds through the house, interrupting my poor attempt to reveal my thoughts.

       My heart jumps.

       It's not them, they wouldn't knock and - I look over at the clock on the stove, It's only six o'clock. Still daylight.

       They wouldn't do anything in the daylight.

       Mack grumbles something incoherent, brushing off the apron he's wearing. He looks down at the sizzling meat on the stove, a frown on his face.

     Another knock on the door, sounding more impatient.

       I get up, heading into the living room.