Emily's shift was finished, and she was about to leave when she remembered how Michael had saved her earlier from the crazy lady, and she couldn't thank him enough.
With an empty tray in his hands, he walked through the kitchen door.
She dashed to the kitchen, colliding with Michael, who was exiting with the empty tray now holding three cups of lemonade. The platter slipped from his grip, spilling the contents all over the place.
"Shit!" Michael exclaimed, his jaws clinched. What the hell is wrong with you, Em? ".
Oh my God, I'm so sorry, "she cried as she knelt and gathered the shattered glass into the tray.
After a few seconds of standing and staring, Mike squatted.
He dipped his hand fiercely into the floor to pick up a broken piece, but it sliced deep into his wrist skin.
Emily's eyes widened as she noticed the broken glass embedded in his wrist as he hurriedly pulled back his hands.
"What...? How...? How did this h-happened?" She was stuttering.
When he removed the fractured piece from his wrist, blood began to ooze out.
"I'm going to clean up the restroom." Michael stood up and walked away peacefully. Emily finished washing the floor and dumped the garbage in the trash can after he left.
Michael's angry, yet innocent face worried her, and she felt responsible for everything that had happened. She must make amends for her errors.
*
"Hey, Chris, can you tell me where the first-aid kit is?" Chris, who had just entered the kitchen with a tray of leftovers, was the one she asked. He tossed it in the kitchen sink and turned to Emily, who was perplexed by his ferocious smile.
"Was it really so awful that you needed first aid? " Snickering, he said.
Emily, still perplexed, inquired as to what he was talking about.
"How can you forget such suffocation?" He inquired and then burst out laughing.
"Do you think that's funny?"
Emily inquired, having realized what he meant.
"You should've seen your face and how your tongue was sticking out." Chris remarked this while resting his hands on his neck and making obscene faces in an attempt to imitate her. Emily resisted the temptation to slap him in the face.
"You were enjoying watching me get strangled, weren't you?" She inquired, her eyes narrowing and her head nodding slightly.
This sparked a new round of laughter, this time a very vicious one.
He'd try to converse when he needed to regain his breath, but then he'd laugh again. Emily stormed out the door, glaring fiercely at him.
Michael had mentioned cleaning up in the restroom earlier, so she was heading there.
The door had been left open. Michael was standing in front of the mirror, focusing so intently on his reflection that he didn't even notice she was there. He was absorbed in a deep thought.
"Mike?" She called him a third time, slightly shaking him.
He carefully turned around and looked her in the eyes. She was concerned because she could sense the agony and sadness in his dark brown eyes.
"Can you tell me what's upsetting you?" She inquired, her gaze riveted on his.
"Nothing," As he sought to flee, was his fast response.
She grabbed his hand to keep him from walking away. "Listen, I'm truly sorry for everything that occurred today. "
He nodded in response to what she said.
"I see you've done a good job of cleaning your wound." She remarked this while raising his wrist to get a better view.
She rubbed her brow; She was confused. The wound had healed. There were no scars, cuts, or blood stains.
"Where's your wound?" She was curious.
"Go home," he muttered as he walked out of the restroom, leaving her alone in the facility. She was perplexed, and she began to believe she was going insane.
Yeah, going home right now is the best thing to do, "she reasoned as she walked out of the restroom and toward the exit.
"Where are going?" Emily could hear something behind her. She groaned and said, already knowing who it was.
"And where do you suppose I'm going?."
"You can't just walk away," Chris explained.
"How come I can't?" She inquired. "My shift is over, and don't expect me to cover for Elsa today; I'm sick of having to cover for that jerk." She remarked this as she mounted her bicycle.
Chris opened his lips to talk, but something drew his attention away from him, and Emily turned to see what it was. She should've known it was Elsa when she stepped out of the white Lamborghini that had dropped her off and nodded to the person inside before turning around and coming towards the entrance, pretending not to notice Chris and Emily.
Chris couldn't take his gaze away from her.
She was dressed in a short white gown with black polka dots and straps that clung to every inch of her body, revealing her strict feminine figure and glistening skin from the ointment she applied. Her lips were painted crimson, and her thick, black, and perfectly curled hair was slightly touching her shoulders.
Elsa was the same age as Emily. She was the girl Chris had admired since they were both fifteen years old.
When Emily noticed Chris's eyes were fixed on Elsa, she shook her head slightly and pedaled away, leaving him alone.
He realized that Emily had left and he dashed inside. When he arrived, Elsa was sitting in a chair near the kitchen, her legs crossed and her gaze fixed on the nail she was filing.
"Why haven't you been coming to work, Elsa?" He asked, attempting to keep his nerves in check.
"It's only three days; I didn't miss the entire week." Elsa spoke up, her gaze never left the nail she was filing.
"Do you realize how difficult it was to fill in for you?" So, my father, your boss isn't aware of your absence. He stated it again, this time more solemnly.
She raised her eyes to his. "Oh, please!" She said, then returned her attention to her nails.
With a sigh, Chris said, "Anyways." "Can you tell me why you aren't in the kitchen?"
"Customers have already placed their orders." Chris stated.
Elsa turned her head to face him. You don't think I'm going to cook, do you? "It'll eat away at my nails." Elsa expressed her displeasure with a frown on her brow.
"Seriously? You haven't shown up for work in three days, and all you worry about right now are those obnoxious-looking nails. " Chris finished with a chuckle.
Only a moron would fall for a girl with clumsy nails. Her lips twisted into a wicked smirk as she uttered it.
"I'm done with you, Elsa!" He screamed.
"No, you're not!" She retorted with a cry of her own. "Do you believe I'm blind to the way you stare at me? How flirtatious are you? "
That's all there is to it! He was going to inform his father about how she hadn't been showing up for work, and he didn't care if it meant she'd be fired.
He quickly moved away from her. Feeling his legs becoming linked, and as he tried to take another step, he staggered and fell to the ground. When he tried to stand up, he discovered he couldn't budge.
He walked towards him and intentionally stepped on his hand, her pointy heels piercing the back of his loof, making him yelp in pain. He tried to free his hands, but he still couldn't move.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She said it in a whisper before walking away. Chris felt the heavy force that tied him down slip away. He pulled his injured hand to himself and sat up immediately. Many thoughts started running through his mind.
How did Elsa know what he wanted to do?
Did she read his mind?
Why was he not able to move?
Is Elsa a paranormal creature?