27. Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Sunshine
I have no idea how long I was out before Elias showed up. Half of it feels like a fever dream. Bits and pieces were real—I think they were. Not like I can remember.
He's been here since, like my own private sentry who doesn't know the meaning of clocking out. Half of me loves having him here when my eyes open, the other half is ready to strangle him.
Speaking of, I’ve slept so much, I don’t know what day it is anymore. Sure, I could look at my phone, but what good would that do when I don't know when I went manic to begin with?
As a matter of fact, don't ask me where the stupid thing is, anyway. It disappeared into the ether of this apartment and died. I still hate the fucking thing, so maybe I’ll stop complaining.
Anyway, I woke up a little while ago in agony.
Every muscle, tendon, bone, cell, and atom in my body are sitting beneath the crushing weight of time and space in the form of a sheet.
It’s barely draped over me but feels more like fifty-grit sandpaper and a battleship.
It rasps across my skin anytime I think about moving, driving me mad.
For… I don’t know, thirty minutes, I’ve been lying here listening to the world forget about me beyond the barrier of my window. A helicopter went by a bit ago; its deafening rotors had me burying my head under the pillows wishing for death.
People talk about being numb when they're coming down, yet never mention how sensitive you are to everything around you. That's where I'm at now, and fuck it's torture.
Elias's deep voice is rumbling out in the kitchen. If I had to guess, he's at the island talking to his own ghosts. Nah, he wouldn't. It's strange to think about the minds of other people and how theirs aren’t screwed up like mine is.
Makes me special.
What a loser.
Like, what do you mean the world is still?
You don't see the walls rolling like ocean waves while you stare?
The floor doesn't breathe and swallow your feet with every step, starving for human skin?
Stars don't twinkle and explode in real time?
Trees don't reach for you in the shadows with talon-like claws that creep across the floor?
Demons don't join you in the mirror, angels don't look at you with pity through the eyes of your family, and hell doesn't burn at your back when you're swimming through steam in the shower?
Do they not see ANYTHING?
I catch one-sided bits and pieces of his conversation.
Even when he's trying his damndest to chase away my demons, he's working.
Every once in a while, I hear the faint click of his mouse.
Of course he doesn't use the trackpad on his laptop; the dinosaur has a corded one because batteries are the enemy.
"Yeah, got it;" he grunts, then sighs audibly.
I bet you he’s rubbing his face and dragging his hand through his hair.
"I said I got it, boy," he sneers this time.
Told you.
His frustration makes me smile—it’s aimed at someone else for once. Maybe that means today’s the day I’ll start feeling better.
My body jerks when I plummet to the Earth and the angels catch me right before I smack against the hard ground. Friction from their last-second touch sends heat exploding through me, jumpstarting every sense I’ve ever had.
I roll off my back onto my right side, acutely aware of my bedding and the way its barbed fibers chafe my abused skin.
I can't escape—mummified in my own bed by cotton I once bought for comfort.
One leg's tacked to the mattress, unable to move or squirm, keeping me hostage. I kick and claw, but it doesn’t budge, setting off a barrage of warning sirens.
"Hey, hey! Sadie." I hear Elias holler from a lightyear away.
Low in my chest, pressure builds. It slithers up my throat to feed the throb threatening to blow my eardrums out.
Off.
Off, off.
OFF.
"Sadie!"
Get me out, please!
My heart’s ready to burst through my rickety ribs. It tricks my lungs with sporadic stutters that refute air and deprive me.
A cold blast scores along my right arm, into my shoulder then chest. Before I know it, Jack Frost has his frigid hands rabidly trying to collect my gasps.
"There you are. Breathe, Sunshine."
I am, I...I think I am. Right now, there’s a swarm of bats stretching their wings in the depths of my chest.
"Slow it down, you're going to hyperventilate." His dangerously smooth timber helps fractionally.
Numbness starts at my toes, the only sign my body’s calming down. It eases up both legs into my hips, torso, neck, and lingers under the gentle brush of Elias’s roughened fingers as they push a lock of hair out of my face.
"Think you should move around some. Can't stay in bed fighting the sheets all day. Also, your medication’s due in an hour, and I need to make a quick run."
No, don't—don't go.
Jerk must see right through me, or I made a stupid titty-baby face, cause he shushes me.
“Grocery run. Should take me an hour, then I’ll be back.”
An hour...I can do that, I think.
It takes a moment for my eyes to start working. Mr. Sandman must have come and poured concrete into them as I slept. Finally, they flutter open; scared of sudden light pouring through the fathomless hole in my irises.
Elias glides his fingers over my forehead, down my temple and to the apple of my cheek again right as I open them.
"There we go," he sighs. "That's better. Want help?" His blurry figure leans over me.
"N...no. I...I got it."
I sound like I smoke a pack a day—damn throat’s dry and tender which makes me cough. Somewhere, somehow, I must have swallowed a pile of still-hot ash.
Elias looks on as I lift the dreadful sheet that was dead set on killing me, and slide out of bed. Lush carpet softens the pads of my feet. The elevation change makes me woozy and sway, but Elias steadies me without a second guess.
God, I feel like shit. Empty and levied at the same time.
Balanced better, I take a step toward the bathroom but he stops me.
Worry creases the corners of his pretty green eyes when I turn to look at him.
I hate them—his eyes. I’m a fucking wreck, and though it's my fault I lost my shit, he left me.
He was the straw, and that camel's back was broken umpteen million years ago.
Masking the irritation in my voice, I ask, “What?"
An awkward hesitation floods the gap when he doesn’t speak, pissing me off.
I have no patience for his silence when my bladder’s five seconds away from bursting.
"Do you need anything specific while I'm out?"
"No, Elias," I answer with a bite.
"Alright. Your pill’s in the cup on the counter. Water's next to it. There’s a kitchen timer counting down. Take it when it goes off. Do not miss it, Sadie. You're awake right now because I managed to fix your schedule.”
Yes, first drill sergeant.
Without another word, I disappear into the bathroom and lock the door like I’m being chased. It’s disgusting how much I have embarrassed myself in front of him. The last thing I need to do is pee with the door open.
I don’t understand how he can stomach looking at me.
He's watched me go from an unstable teen to an unstable adult, and now someone who is one wrong sneeze away from carving out her own heart. If I were him, I’d have left my ass high and dry the day I turned eighteen—I was never his responsibility to begin with.
Finished with the restroom, I turn the shower on high and step in, clothes and all. What’s the point of taking them off when I’ll have to put them back on?
At first, the torrent is freezing as it reaches down to my bones. Then gradually warms until it’s hot and turns my skin a bright shade of red.
Jack Frost’s touch doesn’t stand a fucking chance as my spongey bones absorb the heat.
Is it too much to ask for the things I see and hear to be real?
Maybe I wouldn’t feel so insane then. I mean, I know they’re not, but the things that happen to me when I can’t control them makes it more than real.
The damage shows up in my skin, syphons my energy and health, but no one can put their eyes on it.
They call me crazy, imbalanced, and want to lock me away.
They're wrong, my childhood psychiatrist and the asshole I have now. I know my parents don't believe me either. They’ve never come out and said it, but I know—they’re good at lying.
All they want is the validation of being loved.
So, they take their damaged kid any way they can get me just to feel better about themselves.
Once upon a time I thought Elias did, but now that I see myself, and the way his gaze has changed? He tells me what I want to hear, like everyone else in my life.
It's not fair. I was a good girl growing up. I don’t know what I did to be punished this way.
Nor do I understand why the creator, whoever they are, chose me to be the soldier responsible for carrying all of this weight.
Why would they do this to an innocent? I mean, I…
I know I’m not anymore because I’ve hurt people but what about before?
What terrible wrongs did I commit in the past that warrant punishment in this lifetime?
I only want to be normal, wanted, and loved. Whatever’s plugged my soul into this body has decided I'm not worthy.
There's nowhere to go from here, is there?
Exhausted isn't a strong enough word to describe just how depleted I am.
Which, if my life has been any indication on how the rest is going to go, it will never end.
I'll forever be haunted by things no one else believes in.
Why would they? I'm real—stand in front of them and carry a conversation real—and they don't believe me either.
What's the fucking point?
If they'd stop being selfish for one moment, I could close my eyes and find what I've not had since I was a little girl. Peace.
BAWK-BAWK-BAWK.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DO.
Recoiling, my eyes snap open. Nothing but thick steam and several unexpected strobes of light fill my vision. The sudden flash sends a sharp pain shooting through my retinas.
BAWK-BAWK-BAWK.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DO.