Olivia Summers
Nearly suffocating in the blanketing sheets and pillow smothering over her ears, Olivia stared at her bedroom door, as if her vision could bore right through it and locate the origin of noise. It's probably 4 AM now, maybe even 5. Why can't you all sleep in and relax, for once. She bolted upright, face twisted with irritation. This is all his fault... Furious, she hurled a wrinkled pillow at her writing desk, Sabastien's face as a mental target. Grazing the top of the desk, the pillow wreaked havoc on the innocent articles and items, before losing momentum and descending to its demise on the floor. Yellowing parchment crackled, their dry fibers stretching after a long slumber, left to be forgotten and age with time. Dawn's first feeble rays penetrated Olivia's parted curtains, briefly transforming dust into shimmering specs of gold, the fleeting miracle ending once the dust floated out of reach. Murky water dirited with paint dripped off the desk's edge, from a glass jar knocked over. Olivia cursed under her breath. Irked, she hastily scooped up a heavily creased shirt from the floor to clean up the mess. Doesn't water and wood make mold or something? It's got paint though. Won't it stain? Instead of handling the problem at hand, Olivia slipped on the slick, wet floor. She yelled something unintelligible. This wasn't like herself. Granted, she was a klutz, but she approached things passively and tolerated them. Embaressed at her pathetic state, unable to truly burden her three, dear friends, Olivia latched onto the only scapegoat to take the blame. "Quill! Quill!" Feeling not even a morsel of guilt or shame at the moment, Olivia called forth her bound servant, even louder. "Ugh...Sabastien!"
She waited for a moment, catching her breath from the surprisingly exhausting fit. Now that her mind settled somewhat, Olivia could think more clearly, hopefully with rational logic as well. She stared at her door, hesitant. She'd never allowed her friends into her room, and guys were out of the question. For once, Olivia took in the state of her room. Clothes, both clean and soiled, littered the floor. Her closet was practically sealed off by the armada of unfinished canvases that leaned up against its sliding doors. A thin, sleek laptop---the latest model of its series---emitted a droning hum, never physically turned off to rest and recover. Besides several video game consoles and manga series that were scattered and unevenly stacked around the room, one could not overlook the immense amount of dust. Thick layers of the stuff formed dingy, grey blankets on the window sill, in the air conditioner, and beneath her uplifted bed---shadowed lair of several dust bunny colonies and the occasional spider.
Maybe letting him in isn't a good idea, after all. Besides, what is he suppose to do? I already cleaned the spill up (with my foot). Why did I call him over anyway? Ugh, seriously. This is all his fault! I'll make him wish he never had to serve me. He'll be pleading for mercy! Getting carried away with her scheming imagination again, Olivia coughed to herself. Refuse to let him in and end up having to explain everything and the mess to him?...or...pretend to sleep and avoid trouble all together. Although the latter was full of extranious variables and holes, Olivia submitted to her favorable bias. Mmm...sleep sounds good. Lazily tugging her comforter and blanket off her bed, she curled up beneath her desk, snuggily wrapped in a soft cocoon.