Dear Diary | Proxies

ix. whiskey filled mumbles

Dear Diary,
I almost forgot how much I missed Margaret.

I didn't sleep much that night, truly only about two or three hours, and the rest of the time was spent laying in my bed, staring at my wall. I had woken after falling asleep for a bit only to freak out at the sight of cobwebs lining my ceiling, stretching across the vast expanse of my room. I closed my eyes and hid under my covers until they went away, trying to force my body back into unconsciousness. I was not blessed with sleep, though.

I eventually peered through the thick blankets again and let out a low sigh of relief at the sight of a clean ceiling. I slipped from my bed and stood on shaky legs. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been yesterday, but it was still enough to have me panting loudly as I grabbed a change of clothes and shuffled to the bathroom.

Once I finally made it to the bathroom, I stared between the shower and my bandages. I could take them off so I could shower, but I didn't have any other wrap or gauze, and I was in no state to go to the store. I sat on the edge of my tub and placed my face in my hands. Why was I such a fuckup?

The feeling of my phone buzzing in my pocket interrupted my train of thought. I pulled it out slowly, still angry at myself, and read the message.

'Hvn't seen you recently. U dead?' It was a message from Margaret. I could practically hear her voice as I read it, a small smile slipping across my face. I had called out of work the past few days, but I didn't expect her to notice.

'not dead, jus injured.'

'fucker.'

'BRUH'

'well, can I come over?
ill bring snacks nd movies !!!!!
miss u'

I stared at my legs again and let out a deep sigh. 'think u can bring bandages? Like. alot?'

'sure, :)) b there sooN!'

I placed my phone on the counter and stripped down before slowly peeling the bandages from my legs, cringing at the sight of dried blood and dirt. When they were all pulled away, I took another break, steadying myself against the wall before stepping into the shower. I had already left it running for a while, wanting it to be hot when I stepped in, and the feeling of the water on my skin made me practically melt.

Most of the shower was spent just standing, relishing in the warmth and pressure of the water, but I knew I couldn't stay in there forever, and I begrudgingly hobbled out after a good thirty minutes. I pulled an old pair of sweatpants up my legs and shimmied into a sports bra, finishing right as I heard Margaret make her way into my house. She had a spare key that I had gifted her after we had been friends for a few months. Work friendship had turned into full-blown sleepovers and mock-dates, and I couldn't be happier.

"I brought the bandages," she yelled out from the living room.

I opened the door and slowly made my way to her, grinning when I finally came into her line of sight. She was sprawled out across my couch, a bag of Doritos in her lap and a giant first aid kit beside her.

She watched me shuffle in and snorted loudly. "You an old lady now?"

I shook my head and threw myself onto the couch beside her. "No," I grumbled, taking the first aid kid, "just stupid."

I rolled my pant legs up the best I could and began to wrap them again, trying to remember how Hoody had done it. It felt nice to finally call them by their names – no matter how absolutely ridiculous said names were. I wonder what they looked like under their masks.