Chapter 106

Aron looks at me with a sort of mortified and regretful expression. He looks like someone who had committed an unforgivable crime, and yet the person who he has offended is refusing so adamantly to give him any chance to speak

"Will you at least give me a chance to explain myself?" he asks me reluctantly, his voice coming out barely a whisper.

"Where is my friend first of all?" I say. He simply motions to me to follow, and I do. We walk around his apartment and the familiar landscape of stairs that I know leads to his rooms.

You might be asking yourself what exactly i had been doing there, but yet that room only holds pleasant memories to me. It is the same room that we are played chess and talk for hours on end with each other.

It is the same room where I spent almost each and every one of my free days, basking in the fact that I had gotten such a nice guy, such a caring and loving guy that wouldn't request anything from me without him considering me first of all.

It was the same one that I had come to, for almost a straight week consistently for some time, always to remind Aron that we had an exam that morning. It seems the memories bring back a little bit of a chuckle, as I remember the sort of muddled expression he always wore whenever I came to ring his doorbell, fully dressed and ready to go to school, while he is just waking up.

He looks at the room with a sort of decadent expression, as he also seems to be reminiscing something of the happy days that we spent in there, or something else.

That doesn't matter to me though, the only thing that matters to me is exactly where my friend is, and how she's doing.

We stop at the front of his door, only for him to open it and I see Oakley sitting on his bed, delightedly eating a bag of chips and scrolling her phone. I do not even know what to feel at this point.

Scott's audibly slaps his face with his hand, and she gives us something of a shy embarrassed smile.

"Exactly what is going on here?" I ask her, and she stands in front of me sourly wringing her hands and shuffling her feet.

"It's not my fault you know, your boyfriend here kidnapped me, and I had to fight for my dear life with him. We later came to a compromise that I would gladly stay, if he untied the ropes and got me a bag of chips while we awaited your arrival".

The explanation seems none the less daunting and it is comical, and I can only imagine the sort of panic I have been in this past few hours, only to come that the person whom I had been so eager to save, was sitting on the bed of her captor and eating an half finished bag of chips.

"Exactly how were you even kidnapped in the first place?" I ask, and the ardent flush of red that creeps up her face tells me it's something so embarrassing, she dosen't want to talk about it.