Cabin Fever
A Silence
I reached into the fridge, pulling out a bottle of an expensive IPA beer that I had requested from Marcus. It was the least he could do in terms of payment, since he expected me to keep his friend alive and breathing. Kat had chided me for using alcohol to cope with my frustrations, but as I skillfully cracked open the can her words were a faint white noise in the back of my mind. I took a swig and cringed pleasantly at the strong taste. Beer wasn’t my preferred drink, but it was the only thing Marcus would budge on.
“Beer? I thought a woman such as yourself would prefer wine. Or at least something a bit more expensive.” Viktor had followed me into the kitchen and was now leaning against the counter, his eyes glued to my figure as I swallowed down my drink. I scoffed indignantly.
“You thought wrong, which isn’t shocking.” I informed him in a sickeningly sweet way, being sure to flash him a smile that was so fake that it pained my facial muscles. I’m sure it came across as more of a constipated grimace.
Viktor snorted as he shook his head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really big sweetheart?”
“It never hurts to hear.” I replied to him sardonically. He let out another snort, shaking his head in disbelief as I choked down the rest of my beverage and tossed the can in the garbage. I rolled my eyes at the annoyance as I went to move past him; he grabbed onto my wrist to prevent me from stepping further, his long fingers curling easily around my thin wrist.
“You’re killing me, Demi. I-“
“Damn it Viktor, it’s Demetra. We aren’t friends, so don’t call me Demi.” I growled. I tried to snatch my wrist from his grubby hand, but his grasp did not relent. We engaged in a staring competition as my dark, hazel eyes bore into his considerably lighter ones. His eyes looked curious and dangerous as they flitted across my face, assessing my cold expression.
“Fine, Demetra. You’re killing me. I don’t know why you hate me so much, but can’t you light up a bit? I never remember you being this big of a bitch.”
I wanted to point out to him that he’d only known me for a little over a year, which is the length of time in which Kat and Kruger had been seeing one another. Thus meaning he couldn’t have known me that well. However, Viktor was the type of man that would argue any little fact and at this point my irritation had developed into a throbbing exhaustion behind my eyes. Opting to ignore him, I extracted my wrist and paraded to the other side of the kitchen. I began to rifle through the pantry, scraping together whatever ingredients we had to craft myself a snack.
My cheeks burned as I mulled his question over in my mind, recalling the defining moment in “Demetra Bruckner history” in which my hatred for Viktor Stalberg developed. Letting out a growl of detest in spite of myself, I kicked at the pantry and snatched a box of cake mix from the top shelf.
I continued to gather what I needed, dutifully going about my actions as if there wasn’t a large, abnormally obnoxious Swedish fly in the room watching my every move.
“I know what this is about,” he spoke, loudly and confident in a way that made me want to bring harm upon something. I ground my teeth together, something that made the weak joints of my jaw crack in protest as I stopped in my tracks. I questioned whatever higher power made a living thing like this exist.
“I suggest you don’t say whatever moronic thing you are thinking of saying. There are knives within grabbing distance, and I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of ending your life.” I instructed him lowly. He asserted his expression, slapping his hands on the counter.
“You liked me. You’re mad because that little date we-”
“Shut up, Viktor! Stop! Speaking!” I commanded loudly. “Did it ever occur to you that I could care less about that? How about, did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I don’t like you because you’re the most insufferable prick I’ve ever met?”
After my words Viktor remained silent for a few moments, the only sound in the room being the bowls moved around as I prepared the ingredients. “Are you like this toward everyone?”
“No, I’m not.” I grumbled. I moved to preheat the oven before I returned to the mixing bowl, dumping out the packet and expertly cracking two eggs.
“Well you know what, Demetra,” Viktor sneered. “It’s pretty childish to stomp around biting someone’s head off if you won’t give them the decency to explain why. I mean, shouldn’t it bring you satisfaction to tell me what grand thing I did? Other than be an “insufferable prick”?”
My fingernails dug into the side of the plastic bowl as I inhaled, trying to focus on the task at hand. To Viktor, this was a game. He was by no means unintelligent. He knew the things that made me tick, and he knew exactly why I didn’t like him. Unfortunately, I was a pawn in this game he was currently playing and he was slowly backing me into a dead end.
I glanced at the clock on the opposite wall, and felt my heart lurch. It was only a little after seven. Marcus and Kat’s coming home was so far away, and I already felt my resolution crumbling.
“Quit playing dumb, Viktor. It isn’t very becoming. You know what you did. Why rehash it? Why not just accept that I am one of the only girls in Chicago who isn’t lining up for your autograph and let it go? For fuck’s sakes.”
This small spiel silenced Viktor once again, only this time, he walked away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I resumed making my cake, reveling in the silence as I felt myself relax. When I wasn’t being antagonized, I enjoyed being at the cabin. It held fond memories for me that I refused to let him tarnish.
Once my cake was baking, I washed off my hands in the sink and walked into the living room. Where I had once been sitting, Viktor lay lounging like a predatory, wild cat boasting his typical smirk. Instead of speaking, however, he merely looked at me. Refusing to break this silence, I mirrored his expression and moved to a different part of the cabin.
The second family room was significantly colder without a fireplace, but I felt a sweet victory overcome me knowing that I had finally silenced the beast.
“Beer? I thought a woman such as yourself would prefer wine. Or at least something a bit more expensive.” Viktor had followed me into the kitchen and was now leaning against the counter, his eyes glued to my figure as I swallowed down my drink. I scoffed indignantly.
“You thought wrong, which isn’t shocking.” I informed him in a sickeningly sweet way, being sure to flash him a smile that was so fake that it pained my facial muscles. I’m sure it came across as more of a constipated grimace.
Viktor snorted as he shook his head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really big sweetheart?”
“It never hurts to hear.” I replied to him sardonically. He let out another snort, shaking his head in disbelief as I choked down the rest of my beverage and tossed the can in the garbage. I rolled my eyes at the annoyance as I went to move past him; he grabbed onto my wrist to prevent me from stepping further, his long fingers curling easily around my thin wrist.
“You’re killing me, Demi. I-“
“Damn it Viktor, it’s Demetra. We aren’t friends, so don’t call me Demi.” I growled. I tried to snatch my wrist from his grubby hand, but his grasp did not relent. We engaged in a staring competition as my dark, hazel eyes bore into his considerably lighter ones. His eyes looked curious and dangerous as they flitted across my face, assessing my cold expression.
“Fine, Demetra. You’re killing me. I don’t know why you hate me so much, but can’t you light up a bit? I never remember you being this big of a bitch.”
I wanted to point out to him that he’d only known me for a little over a year, which is the length of time in which Kat and Kruger had been seeing one another. Thus meaning he couldn’t have known me that well. However, Viktor was the type of man that would argue any little fact and at this point my irritation had developed into a throbbing exhaustion behind my eyes. Opting to ignore him, I extracted my wrist and paraded to the other side of the kitchen. I began to rifle through the pantry, scraping together whatever ingredients we had to craft myself a snack.
My cheeks burned as I mulled his question over in my mind, recalling the defining moment in “Demetra Bruckner history” in which my hatred for Viktor Stalberg developed. Letting out a growl of detest in spite of myself, I kicked at the pantry and snatched a box of cake mix from the top shelf.
I continued to gather what I needed, dutifully going about my actions as if there wasn’t a large, abnormally obnoxious Swedish fly in the room watching my every move.
“I know what this is about,” he spoke, loudly and confident in a way that made me want to bring harm upon something. I ground my teeth together, something that made the weak joints of my jaw crack in protest as I stopped in my tracks. I questioned whatever higher power made a living thing like this exist.
“I suggest you don’t say whatever moronic thing you are thinking of saying. There are knives within grabbing distance, and I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of ending your life.” I instructed him lowly. He asserted his expression, slapping his hands on the counter.
“You liked me. You’re mad because that little date we-”
“Shut up, Viktor! Stop! Speaking!” I commanded loudly. “Did it ever occur to you that I could care less about that? How about, did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I don’t like you because you’re the most insufferable prick I’ve ever met?”
After my words Viktor remained silent for a few moments, the only sound in the room being the bowls moved around as I prepared the ingredients. “Are you like this toward everyone?”
“No, I’m not.” I grumbled. I moved to preheat the oven before I returned to the mixing bowl, dumping out the packet and expertly cracking two eggs.
“Well you know what, Demetra,” Viktor sneered. “It’s pretty childish to stomp around biting someone’s head off if you won’t give them the decency to explain why. I mean, shouldn’t it bring you satisfaction to tell me what grand thing I did? Other than be an “insufferable prick”?”
My fingernails dug into the side of the plastic bowl as I inhaled, trying to focus on the task at hand. To Viktor, this was a game. He was by no means unintelligent. He knew the things that made me tick, and he knew exactly why I didn’t like him. Unfortunately, I was a pawn in this game he was currently playing and he was slowly backing me into a dead end.
I glanced at the clock on the opposite wall, and felt my heart lurch. It was only a little after seven. Marcus and Kat’s coming home was so far away, and I already felt my resolution crumbling.
“Quit playing dumb, Viktor. It isn’t very becoming. You know what you did. Why rehash it? Why not just accept that I am one of the only girls in Chicago who isn’t lining up for your autograph and let it go? For fuck’s sakes.”
This small spiel silenced Viktor once again, only this time, he walked away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I resumed making my cake, reveling in the silence as I felt myself relax. When I wasn’t being antagonized, I enjoyed being at the cabin. It held fond memories for me that I refused to let him tarnish.
Once my cake was baking, I washed off my hands in the sink and walked into the living room. Where I had once been sitting, Viktor lay lounging like a predatory, wild cat boasting his typical smirk. Instead of speaking, however, he merely looked at me. Refusing to break this silence, I mirrored his expression and moved to a different part of the cabin.
The second family room was significantly colder without a fireplace, but I felt a sweet victory overcome me knowing that I had finally silenced the beast.