My Waitress (NOT EDITED)

Chapter 38

I wish I dreamt last night. A moment to escape reality to something bizarre like flying in outer space with your favorite fictional character or dancing with frogs in the desert. Anything to forget until you wake up the next day and your mind begins to flood again.

But sadly, I'm waking up seconds after I fell asleep last night. I groan as natural light finds its way in my eyes, so I turn in the other direction. I keep my eyes shut to try to fall back asleep, but it's no use, my mind wants to start the day already as the sun begins to rise. Of course, I've been forced to wake up for the past 5 days at 7 am, so by body got used to starting up early in the morning.

I really have been here for only 5 days.

"I know you're awake."

In the back of my head I was waiting for him to say something. After the first stay, Sam had to shake me to wake up, and I did not want to get out of bed so early. But I had no choice. Now, I just know that he's waiting for me to wake up in the cushioned chair in the corner of my room.

I also know I can't cheat my way out of this by not replying and pretending to fall back in my slumber. I've tried that before on my third day here, but he plays with me until I finally open my eyes. If I mean play, I mean pinching my ears, poking my cheeks, squishing my face, and booping my nose until I couldn't bare no more. If I had the chance to kick him then, I would've. Severely.

Since I can't escape him, I finally open my eyes. I feel satisfied to find him in the cushioned chair. He's been keeping me company. At first, it was irritating to have him sit with me during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and in my room, especially when I wasn't able to go anywhere with a broken leg. But he grew on me. He opened up to me about his family, and how they met my aunt in Paris and they became close friends. But then both of his parents died early. My aunt was looking for another bodyguard anyway, so he took up the offer, and she brought him back to the US. I guess I can empathize with him, about the whole parents dying thing. We both were alone in this cruel world, but then we met someone in our lives that took that loneliness away.

He stands up. He walks towards me as he straightens the jacket of his suit. "You should know the routine."

"Of course I do."

Here's what's been happening for five days: Wake up at 7am. Take a pill out of that solid white bottle, gush it down with water. I have to drink the whole bottle with it. Sam leaves the room and two maids step in his place. I brush my teeth on my own, but they help me bathe. After drying off they take out the clothes I wear for today. I can't pick my own clothes. I hate not having to. Then, they fix my hair, usually just curling up the ends just a little bit. They put on a touch of makeup for me; little foundation to hide my eye bags, a layer of mascara, and cocoa butter vaseline for my lips. After getting ready, Sam takes over, pushing my wheelchair downstairs for breakfast. Then Sam takes me to the library on the second floor, which he forgot to show me the first time I came here. I pick out a book, then we head outside in the backyard for some sun. He sits with me as I read for a few hours, then we head back in for lunch. Then we go back up to my room. That's when I take a nap. I kill time until 7pm, when Sam takes me downstairs for dinner. After dinner, right back upstairs. The two maids step in to remove my makeup, and help me put on pajamas. Sam helps me to my bed, and he stays with me, sitting in that cushioned chair, till I fall asleep. The whole process starts again in the morning.

And I don't even see her all day.

I hate it so much.

I'm surprised I'm still sane. I'm surprised I keep my cool. After I take that pill in the morning, I let the day pass like it's any other, like this is normal for me. My body feels too lazy to do anything but I'm aware of how I'm acting.