With different eyes

The horror comes for a visit

I wake up through whining. Since I can't move my body, I guess Ace is already awake. My body is curled up in a fetal position on the bed and it seems to be early morning. Ace is moaning and pressing his hands on his stomach. "Stomach aches?" I ask him sympathetically. I could say 'I told you so' but stomach ache is punishment enough. He nods agonizedly. "Please look at the cell phone, the thing on the sideboard," I urge him. He reaches caustically for the cell phone and looks at the clock. 8:00 a.m. Some pharmacies must already be open. "Ace, you need to get some medicine for a stomach ache or chamomile tea," I confess to him. He whimpers and is about to put the cell phone away when it starts ringing. "Please answer it, press the green button and hold it to your ear," I tell Ace. He follows the instruction tortured and whines a: "YES?" into the cell phone."How many times have I told you to answer by name? And anyway, where is the greeting?" I hear my mother's sweet voice, or in other words, she grumbles into the phone. Ace blinks irritatedly before he says into the cell phone, "You didn't greet me either!" I groan. But before the moral lecture can come, Ace whimpers again. "I have said that my body does not hold out a D's nourishing way. This is my mother, by the way!", I explain to Ace. "Are you okay, sweetie?" Suddenly sounds concerned from the phone. Ace reflexively answers: "Stomachache." "My poor baby, how good that we are on the way, so I can take care of you." I hear my mother say. That my mother always has to call me that. "Wait, what did she say?" I ask Ace, horrified. He couldn't answer because my mother continued: "I'm going to the pharmacy and shopping, then I'll come to you!" Oh my God, can it get any worse? "Ace, you have to tell her that she can't come!" I ask him, but before he can react my mother has already hung up. I sigh, this could be something. Ace is silent and curls up again. At least someone can take care of Ace. I am curious when my mother will realize that I am not me.

I try to comfort Ace, for someone who never seems to be sick, it must be awful to be suddenly sick. I hear the door open and barely a moment later my mother is standing in the bedroom. Ace is about to jump up when I calm him down: "It's just my mother, she's not dangerous in most cases." He relaxes and asks me: "In most cases?" I giggle and say: "Well, when someone hurts her children, she can get angry." Before Ace can answer, my mother rushes up to him and hugs him while stroking his head. Ace tenses up for the first time and blinks in irritation. "Now let the girl catch her breath before you rush at her like that," I hear my father say. He stands in the doorway and watches the spectacle with a grin. Then he also approaches my body and presses it against him after my mother has let go. I meanwhile laugh at Ace, who seems to have no idea what he is supposed to do now. "Lucia?" he asks me irritated. "Ace, there's nothing you can do, they're my parents. With them it's like with a storm: keep your head down, keep your mouth shut and hope that it passes quickly!" "I'll make you a nice tea now," my mother says lovingly, stroking Ace's head. My father still holds Ace in his arms and strokes his back. "Lucia, what do you want me to do?" Ace asks me. "Enjoy and relax you can't escape anyway!" I explain to him laughing. "What have you been doing these days my little star?" my father asks me lovingly. "Little star?" Ace asks me amused. "I can't help it that my father calls me that. By the way, how's your stomach?" I ask him sarcastically and Ace now seems to be aware of his stomach pain because he whimpers again and curls up in my father's arms. He carefully puts him back on the bed. And already my mother comes into the room with a cup of tea and broth. Where the hell did she get the broth? Ace is already looking greedily at the broth and seems to have finally forgotten the pain. He greedily grabs the plate and starts spooning the soup. "At least you've come to your senses and is the soup without fanfare, when I remember how much bitching there was when you were little." Starts my mother grumbling. "Well actually a D is eating the soup and usually that's not a good sign," I say sarcastically although I know that only Ace can hear me. He splutters into the soup. "Oh dear, too hot?" my mother asks worriedly, scurrying around the bed. She covers Ace properly and feels his forehead. The latter lets it happen without grumbling. I say annoyed: "Could you please tell my mother that I'm not five and very well able to take care of myself?" Ace translates for me. My mother snorts and gives Ace a kiss on the forehead, then says, "I'm your mother. And for a mother, her child will always be her child! And now sleep a little. You'll feel better when you wake up." Then she strokes Ace's head again and leaves the room together with my father.