Lucid

CHAPTER 5 - JUST ANOTHER KID

I knew this day would come, but I didn't expect it so soon. If I'd known how it would pivot our world, setting it on an unforeseen path, maybe I'd have tried to stop it. At least, my past self would have. But now, there's no stopping it. It has to happen.

I felt the shift in him—every hour since he woke. It's a change none of us can ignore, for better or worse. I used to hope he wasn't too far gone. Now, I just hope time won't rush the day any closer...

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My whole body felt like I'd run a marathon—no, like I'd been running it for days. My arms, legs, even my eyes were heavy, wanting nothing more than to close and drift back to sleep. Back to that dream.

The thought dropped in my chest like a stone. I felt awkward, like that mortifying kind of awkward you feel after a romantic dream about someone you shouldn't be thinking about. I just wanted to roll myself up into a ball, hide under my sheets, and disappear.

And so, that's what I did—pulled my knees close and hid under the blanket. It's a little pathetic, maybe, but I almost wished I could be back in that coma. Because this feeling? This tension, this knot in my stomach? It was toxic.

My door swung open, and there was Mom's voice, sing-song and unrelenting. "Ethan, sweetie, you're going to be late. Better get in the shower, honey!" She lingered in the doorway, hands on her hips. "And make sure to put on deodorant this time."

I groaned as she shut the door. Great, just what I needed. As I threw the covers back, though, I saw it—the faint dampness on the sheets, leftover from last night's dream. The awkwardness spiked, along with an overwhelming need to shrink into nothingness. What am I, five?

With a sigh, I peeled off the sheets and shoved them in a pile near the corner of the room. Okay, so I'd need an excuse, fast—something I could tell Mom without sounding like a toddler. Then, grabbing fresh clothes, I ran to the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go, scrubbing until every ounce of last night faded down the drain.

Dressed and more composed, I emptied half a can of deodorant, giving myself an extra dose of reassurance. My hair? Left it wild, a barely-there Mohawk. When I finally shouldered my bag, it was time to confront Mom with my impromptu laundry.

I sprinted down the stairs and into the kitchen, trying to sound casual. "Hey, Mom, can I wash this?" I held the sheets up, praying my excuse would fly. Mom, seated at the counter with her coffee, gave me a curious look.

"Sure," she said, her tone shifting from relaxed to concerned. "Why?"

"Got a little warm last night." I tried to shrug it off, keeping my voice as light as I could manage. The excuse sounded weak, even to me.

Mom raised an eyebrow, but with a twitch of her nose, she finally took the sheets and headed to the laundry room. My dad, meanwhile, just looked at me over his coffee mug. "Everything okay, bud? You look a little... off."

"No, no, everything's fine." I gave him what I hoped was a convincing grin and tightened my grip on my bag. "Can we just... head out?"

He nodded slowly. "Sure. Let me just grab the keys." As he stepped toward the door, I dashed upstairs, nearly diving under my bed to retrieve my stash of pills.

A quick gulp of water at the sink, and I was back downstairs, where Dad was waiting by the car. With a final, deep breath, I climbed in and slammed the door, hoping to shut out the memories along with it.

"Ready?" Dad asked, eyeing me calmly.

"Ready. Let's go."

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