Boredom is Blue
Chapter Fifteen
Jay's P.O.V
I hate tight spaces. I hate them with a passion. Kai and Zane have even more irrational fears, so I don't want to hear any laughter. But, yes, I'm claustrophobic. Ever since childhood, I've had this phobia. It isn't really small spaces that gets me, like being inside a closet. It's the feeling that I can't move. Movement is just so vital to me; I'm always moving, constantly going. So when I'm in a place that restricts my movement, I panic. Just go blank with uncontrolled desire to get out of there.
It started when I was five. My house, or trailer really, is really small. My parents hated it when I would hang around in there, especially my mother, because my father was always out on a project and never was in during the day. So, she would boot me out, to explore the junk yard. Trust me, it was a young inventors dream come true, to have unlimited access to all those scraps just waiting to be turned into something useful. So out I would go with no complaint. It wasn't the safest place for an impulsive five-year old, so maybe one of my parents should have at least tried to keep an eye on me. Hey, maybe they did try, but even then I was just too quick to keep watch over. In any case, one day, I was exploring a pile. I had excavated a tunnel, and was crawling through it, when I found something infinitely interesting; the handlebars of an old bicycle. I'd been wanting a bike forever, but my parents couldn't afford to buy a new one, and their favourite saying is "why buy something, when you could make something." So, I set about building my very own bike. Thus, I'm sure you can see how important those handlebars where. Better yet, if the still had a bike connected to them.
In my young and innocent mind, I never once considered the dangers of yanking on something, deep inside a tunnel of junk that you yourself built, and therefore having absolutely no support. Also, tugging on something that may play a vital part in holding up my lovingly, but hurriedly built tunnel, wasn't the best of ideas.
And I think you can see where this is going.
Upon my excitement to find something I needed, I didn't stop to think about possibly getting Pa to come help me get it. Nope, I just dove right in there, pulling and panting with all my very slight might. Apparently, it was just enough might, as out came the handlebars, along with a bike, albeit missing its tires. Then the whole thing came down right on top of me.
Before I could take a breath, I was smothered. The weight, the weight, of all the junk was unbelievable, pushing me down, crushing me. I was suffocating, felt like I was suffocating, even though my head was miraculously in an air pocket. The rest of my body wasn't, however, and my arms were twisted up around my neck and chest. One leg was bent awkwardly around a rusty metal pipe, the other straight, with the foot under a precariously balanced refrigerator. Too terrified to move, thank goodness, as movement would probably make things worse, I opened my mouth and screamed. I'm not even ashamed that I screamed. I was fucking petrified.
Pa finally found me half an hour later, when my throat was raw from my cries. Ma had heard my first scream, and had gotten him right away, but it still took that long for them to find me and then dig me out. They didn't even need to scold me; I had learnt my lesson very well. Ever since then, I've suffered from claustrophobia. I can still remember the pressure of that junk pile resting on my body, restricting my movement. So when I get into those situations, my mind reverts back to the terrified little boy I was then and I can't control my panic.
So, now I'm sure you're wondering why I told you that story. Just imagine my delight when Ken stops at a small, unguarded man-hole at the back of the Amazon base. It would pose no problem for Ken to crawl through, but it would be a very tight squeeze for the rest of us, especially Cole. We'd have to commando crawl through it. And having my forearms held to my chest, so the only thing I can move is my head and hands? No, thank you.
"No. No, no, no. I can't go in there," I say quietly, but firmly, emphatically gesturing with open palms.
"Why not?" Ken asks with a scrunch of her eyebrow, looking more confused than a buffalo at a rodeo. "It's the least risky way in."
"I just can't," I reply, widely my eyes in desperation. "I really, really can't."
Cole steps up to me, resting his heavy paw on my shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring, no doubt, but freaked me out just a tiny bit more.
"What's the matter, Jay? We're going to rescue Nya, remember Nya?"
I give him a scathing look. "Of course I remember Nya. She's my girlfriend and the love of my life. Don't question me about her, okay?"
"Then, what's the problem?" All pairs of eyes turn to me, and I feel the panic filling my blood, pumping into a desperate frenzy. Then, Zane's pale grey eyes of marble widen in understanding.
"Jay," Zane begins, taking a small step toward me in an attempt to be unthreatening. I want to back away, to keep as much space to myself as possible, but even in my weakness, I'm no coward. "Jay, are you perhaps claustrophobic?"
Bowing my head in barely suppressed shame, I nod my head. I can hear even quieter whispering than the way we'd already been speaking going on between Lloyd and Kai, Lloyd questioning meaning of my phobia and Kai maybe not so patiently explaining. Cole is looking at me with the sympathy of a majestic rhino. Why a rhino, I haven't a clue.
"Ken, is there any other way?" Cole asks her. She considers for a moment, than regrettably shakes her head.
"I'm sorry, Jay. But this is the best way."
Sighing, I take a deep breath. You can do this, Jay. You can do this for Nya. Squaring my shoulders, and without any further thought other than, I'm probably going to regret this, I follow Ken into the pipe, cringing the whole way. My breath starts to come in pants; I'm starting to hyperventilate. No, Jay. You're doing this for Nya. For Nya.
Apparently then, my brain decides the best way to cope with the stress is just to shut down. My mind goes black, and I'm only semi-conscious of my body squirming through the constricting tunnel and the whispered encouragement. All my thoughts feel like they've been coated in a layer of charcoal, smudging and smearing the voices and images.
For Nya.
Nya's P.O.V
Good lord, what is that racket?
"Jay," I mumble and grumble, still half asleep. "Whatever you're doing, stop it." The clanking, yelling and screaming continues. Why does Jay have to be so bloody noisy at this time of morning? Some people just want to sleep! Groaning, while keeping my eyes stubbornly squeezed shut, I attempt to pull my pillow over my head, only to realise that my arm is my pillow. What the? As my body and mind succumbs to consciousness, I become aware of the fact that I am not lying cosily in the big, comfy bed Jay and I share, but instead am lying on cold, damp stone. Finally catching up to what had happened, I sit straight up. Because something very important is happening right now. The sounds that woke me are coming from down the dark hall, and I can just make out shadowy figures. Now obvious to me now that I am fully awake, these are the sounds of battle. The thunk and buzz of electric nun chucks. The slice and sizzle of a flaming katana. The pierce and crack of frozen shuriken. The bang and grunt of a rock-solid scythe. All sounds very familiar to me.
They're finally here.
Jay's P.O.V
Whoosh. The crude, but nonetheless sharp, edge of a hastily made short sword slices through the air where my neck was located just seconds before. Oh no, killing me is not going to be that easy. Not when I'm so, freaking close. Trying my very hardest not to look at her, knowing that once I do, I'll lose all sense of time and place, I twist and spin through well practiced movements. Amazons fall like pen thrown at a student's head; flung with great speed and hitting their heads on cold stone walls and floor. How did they get it so bloody cold down here? Magic, I tell you, because it's absolutely boiling up there.
Before I know it, all the Amazons are piles of timber, and Cole is smashing on the lock to Nya's cell. Moving faster than humanly possible, I push past him. Nya's tiny frame collides with mine in unrestrained passion. Tightly wrapping my arms around her, I bury my face in her shoulder and cry.
.
.
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Katy's Note: Hey, guys! So sorry that I haven't updated in ages. But things have been very hectic lately, having just started my last year of high school. In fact, my other stories should have been updated before this one, but honestly, I felt (and still feel) more passionate about this story than my other two, even though it's less popular. Hence, here the chapter is! Fifteen, wow. When I was initially planning this story, I thought I'd only write 12 chapters of a thousand words each. How wrong was I! The story just kept expanding as I was writing it. So, I'm expected about five-seven more chapters, but that's only a rough estimate. Anyway, on to reviews!
Guest: Thank you! Yeah, I felt that it was important to show him as an actual athlete. His talent is for speed (so I made him more lithe than the others) and I really wanted to show that and his incredible agility, something the rest of them don't have.
Nya909: Thank you for the ideas! And for reminded me to update every four days :P. I don't think I'm going to make Nya evil in this story. Perhaps with another character? I'm not sure.
Nya2468: Thanks! Yeah, it's good to always be looking for inspiration. Yeah, you're probably right.
ForeverDreamer12: I'm glad you loved it! Jay's cool like that.
Birthdaypi: Thank you! That's exactly what I wanted to do; show how and why the characters think the way they do, instead of just what they think. Your commission will be put up as an extra in the next chapter, so look forward to that!
Lya200: Thank you! Especially for sticking with me for so long!
NinjaMeap: Yeah, you're probably right; he could be ADHD rather than ADD. I might change it later. Thank you for that :D
Harlienne: Thank you! Here's your next chapter!
xWAITINGx: You can cease your waiting, for the next chapter is here! And then you can start again, because your near the end of this chapter and will have to wait for the next one. All well, c'est la vie!
Megietheballerina: Thank you very much! I love my story, too.
Okay, so that's it for today's reviews! Please keep reviewing; it brings a smile on my face. And a happy writer means that no main characters get suddenly killed off. Which leads me to believe that George R. R. Martin is a very unhappy guy. Never mind.
Please, fav/follow/review! It honestly brightens my day! Speaking of days, I hope you guys have a great one. Chat to you again with the next one!
Katy Kate.